But there weren’t any coupons inside, just a piece of expensive-looking stationery. I unfolded the letter and began to read. I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. I must have read that incorrectly, I thought. I began reading the letter again. A chill ran through me and I literally shuddered. I stood up, still feeling discombobulated, as if I had just had a scary dream but wasn’t sure if I was awake or still asleep.
Slowly, I walked to the front of the store.
“Hey, Del!” Mom called, a wilted rose in each hand. “Almost ready to go?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “I … I …”
Mom dropped the roses on the counter and came up to me, putting her hand on my arm. “Del, what’s wrong?” she asked worriedly. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I was cleaning,” I finally managed to say.
Mom laughed. “I know it’s a mess, but don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”
“I found this,” I said, holding out the letter. “It’s from Boston Beans.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “Coupons, right? I should have just thrown that away. Their coffee is so bitter.”
I shook my head and finally found my voice. “That’s not it. Boston Beans wants to open a store in Elwood Falls,” I told her. “And I’ll give you three guesses as to where they think the perfect location is.”
“Boston Beans?” said Dad that night at dinner. “That’s preposterous! We have the Corner Café. We don’t need a Boston Beans on Fairfield Street!”
I nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, they think that Petal Pushers is the perfect spot for their new store,” I told my family, who all wore expressions of shock. “And they’re willing to pay a lot of money for it.”
“How much?” asked Dad.
Mom named a sum so large that everyone at the table gasped. Dad even put down his iPhone, mid–cannellini bean harvest.
“Daddy, they’re going to wither!” Poppy squealed. She scooped the phone up and began to harvest the beans. The sound effects were comical. Ploop, ploop, ploop, ploop, ploop. Too bad I couldn’t laugh.
“The crops are saved,” Poppy said solemnly.
“That’s a lot of money,” Dad said to Mom thoughtfully. “Think about it. We could open a bigger place. Hire a full-time delivery person. Maybe another designer to work on arrangements.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“And not have to worry so much about every little thing,” he added. “We’d have a cushion.”
Mom wrung her hands. “That’s all true,” she said. “But it’s our place. It’s been in the family for a hundred years!”
“I know,” said Dad, “I know. But we have to at least consider it.”
Mom’s eyes brimmed with tears.
I put down my fork. “You can’t be serious!” I said to my father. “We can’t sell the store!”
I thought about the uneven floors and the drafty windows. The rattling flower cooler and the scratched wooden worktable that was a century old. Those things might sound like good reasons to sell the place, to some people. But I loved everything just the way it was. With the name change that we had introduced when Mom and Dad took over and a new location, there would be nothing left of the original place. Nothing left of Gran and Gramps. It left a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Rose shrugged. “The place is kind of old,” she offered. “We could get a cool, new store.”
I glared at her. “Like Fleur? That place is cold and impersonal. It’s the history of our store that makes us special. The old-fashionedness of it. The tradition.”
Mom sighed and dabbed her eyes with her ever-present bandanna. This one was red. I could feel a tightness in the back of my throat and my eyes filled with tears, too. I blinked them back. I hate to cry in front of people, even my family.
Aster spoke up. “And Boston Beans is a chain! I thought we didn’t like chain stores. They put the mom-and-pops out of business and all that.”
Like our store, I thought, but then shook my head. They wouldn’t be putting us out of business. Just forcing us to move!
“That does bother me,” Dad said thoughtfully. “Contributing to the decline of Main Street.”
Now that’s what I was talking about.
“But they’re offering an awful lot of money,” Rose pointed out.
Dad nodded. “It’s true.”
Mom blew her nose.
Dad leaned forward. “I know this is hard,” he said in measured tones. “But this is a business. We need to discuss this with Gran and Gramps and Aunt Lily. The decision is ultimately up to them, since they are the owners.”
Mom nodded grimly. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll call them now.”
I hid my smile. There was no way Gran and Gramps would agree to this ridiculous idea. Petal Pushers would stay where it belonged. No question about it. We’d be telling Boston Beans to get lost in no time.
“Well, of course we have to sell,” said Aunt Lily. “I’ll have my lawyer contact Boston Beans tomorrow morning. End of story.”
It was an hour later. Aunt Lily, upon hearing the news from Mom, had insisted she come over immediately so we could call Gran and Gramps together.
“Whoa there, Lily,” said Gramps. “This is a family decision.”
We were all huddled around the computer in Dad’s office, staring at Gran and Gramps on the screen. As always, I marveled over how happy and relaxed they looked. Life in Key West was treating them well. And they loved their new place. I had been relieved to hear they were renting it instead of buying. It gave me a small hope that maybe one day they would return to Elwood Falls.
“I don’t understand why you all aren’t jumping at this chance,” Aunt Lily said huffily. “Offers like this don’t come along every day.”
I cleared my throat. “What do you think, Gran and Gramps?” I asked pointedly.
Gran looked at Gramps. “I don’t want to speak for both of us, but I think that the choice needs to be made by those we left in charge — Daisy, Ben, and Lily. You know how things are going right now.”
“I agree,” said Gramps. “So really think this through. Decide what will be best for business and for everyone.”
I sighed. Gran and Gramps were being totally reasonable, like they always were. It was just so frustrating. They owned two-thirds of the business and could have told us all what to do and we would have had to listen. But no, they had to go and be fair!
Gramps laughed. “I see that look, Del!” he said. “I can’t be a dictator. It just isn’t right, especially with us being far away. You are going to have to make the decision for yourselves.”
I looked over at Aunt Lily. It was abundantly clear that her mind was set.
But then again, so was mine.
Chapter Five
I had managed to keep my worrisome news to myself all day at school, under the ridiculous theory that maybe if I didn’t talk about it, it would just go away. But on the walk home together after Yearbook Committee, Becky asked the seemingly innocent question, “Everything all right, Del?” and the story came spilling out of me like water from an open fire hydrant.
Becky shook her head. “Wow, that’s quite the conundrum!” she said.
I smiled despite myself. Becky liked to use new words as much as I did.
“It isn’t a conundrum for me,” I said. “I know what the right thing to do is.”
“But there are a lot of people involved in the decision,” Becky explained. “And it is a lot of money to turn down.”
“You can’t put a price on tradition,” I told her. I liked the sound of that and decided to file it away for our next family meeting.
Becky gave me a thoughtful look. “Del. I know how much you love the store and how much it means to you. But a business is about making money, you can’t forget that.”
I scowled. Just whose side was Becky on, anyway?
“But I understand how you feel,” she added. “Honestly. I want you to kee
p the old store, too. I can’t imagine your family anywhere else!”
That was more like it. I smiled at her and put my hands deep in my pockets. “It’s just … the store feels like my home, you know? When I was little I used to beg my parents to take me there instead of the playground. Before Gran and Gramps left, it was my refuge from my crazy family.”
Becky nodded. “So what’s going to happen next?”
“Aunt Lily is insisting that we start checking out available spaces for the store to relocate to.”
“Well, maybe she’ll find this amazing space that you like even better,” Becky suggested.
I stared at her.
She shrugged. “You never know,” she said. “Stranger things have happened.”
Becky was the ultimate the glass-is-half-full person and, in her case, it was usually half full of something incredible, like strawberry lemonade.
“Don’t you ever get tired of looking at the bright side of things?” I asked her.
She grinned and shook her head. “Nope.”
I sighed. “Well, I guess we just wait and see what happens,” I said, getting that hollow, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When I got home, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet. But I was at home — so what was I thinking? Immediately, I tripped over several pairs of black Doc Marten boots haphazardly discarded by the front door. Then I remembered that Aster was having some friends over that afternoon.
I couldn’t help myself. I lined up everyone’s shoes and placed my own in my usual spot. I was about to head upstairs to my room when I heard Poppy’s voice.
“Awesome!” she cried. I wandered into Dad’s office to find him and Poppy playing that stupid game. Again.
“Del, we just got six snozzleberries!” Poppy shouted.
“Um … great,” I said.
“We’ve moved up to a brand-new level,” Dad told me. “These snozzleberries are going to open up a whole host of opportunities! Nine more and we can get a Gnome wishing well!”
“I’m really excited for you both,” I said sarcastically. They didn’t even seem to notice.
I went to the kitchen to grab a predinner snack. Aster and her friends had completely taken over the rough wooden table, which was littered with opened bags of chips and pretzels, notebooks, and library books. The girls had been chattering loudly, but when I walked in, silence fell over the room.
“Working on your Washington Irving report?” I asked my sister, grabbing a bottle of lemon-lime seltzer from the fridge. “Hi, I’m Del,” I added pointedly.
“Oh, sorry!” Aster said. “These are my friends Maureen, Ellen, Susan, and Monica.”
I waved and smiled at them all. They were all wearing black, just like Aster. Monica had purple streaks in her blonde hair. Ellen was wearing a black cardigan with huge holes where the elbows should have been. Maureen had safety pins in her ears, and Susan was wearing black lipstick. Aster was fitting right in, that was for sure.
They all stared back at me. “Hey,” said one. Ellen, I think. Or maybe it was Maureen.
“So you guys stole all the snacks?” I teased them.
Susan got up and handed me a bag of Smartfood. “It’s all yours,” she said. “Frankly, I prefer Pirate’s Booty.”
Aster laughed and threw a piece of it at Susan, who expertly caught it in her mouth.
I stared at my sister. Had a playful alien taken over her body or something? This was so unlike her!
I tucked the bag of white cheddar popcorn under my arm and headed out of the kitchen. Then I heard the front door slam shut. I spun around. There stood Rose, looking decidedly unhappy.
“All those ugly boots!” she scoffed. “I guess the goth girls are still here?”
“Yeah,” I said. “They’re in the kitchen.”
Rose made a face.
“Actually, they seem pretty nice….”
Rose dropped her backpack to the ground and roughly removed her jacket. She let it fall to the floor. I was just about to say something, then thought better of it. “That’s because they worship eighth graders,” she said meanly.
“You should be happy that Aster is making friends,” I scolded her. “It’s about time, you know.”
“Whatev,” said Rose.
I was all set to protest, but then thought better of that, too. “Um, bad day?” I asked her as she marched past me and started up the stairs.
“Don’t even get me started,” she replied.
I tentatively followed behind her.
“Anything you want to talk about?” I asked when we got to the landing. Rose marched to the bedroom that she and Aster shared (it was decorated pink on Rose’s side, black on Aster’s) and closed the door in my face.
Guess not.
When Mom got home and started dinner, I went downstairs to set the table. The last of Aster’s new friends was putting on her battered Docs.
“Good-bye, Del,” Safety-pin Girl said as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed out the door. She had lots of holes in her black tights.
“Good-bye … you!” I called after her.
“That was Maureen,” Aster said, shaking her head.
I headed into the kitchen. Mom had already set the table, and in the middle was a sample Homecoming bouquet that she had brought home. The tightly packed apricot, orange, and yellow roses were surrounded by the border of paraffined leaves. She had also added a little sprig of acorns. The ring of shiny leaves perfectly complemented the gorgeous fall hues of the roses.
“It’s gorgeous,” I told her truthfully.
“Thanks, Del,” Mom said as she picked up the pan and expertly flipped the chicken stir-fry. “I think I finally got it right.”
Everyone filed in for dinner. Dad speared a bean and held it up for all to see. “String beans!” he said. “We haven’t planted any of those yet, Poppy. They only take two hours to grow. We can harvest before bedtime. What do you think?”
“Certainly!” said Poppy. “String beans it is!”
“I have a new rule,” said Mom. “No Fairytown at the dinner table!”
“Gnomeland!” Poppy and Dad said at the same time.
I glanced over at Rose. She wasn’t eating, just pushing stir-fry around on her plate.
Mom sighed. “All right, Rose, you’ve got to tell us what’s wrong,” she said.
“Something’s wrong, Rose?” asked Dad. Classic absent-minded professor.
Rose started to say something, then stopped. She dropped her head and mumbled into her shirt.
“What?” we said in unison.
“I didn’t get the part I wanted,” she said.
“Oh, honey,” said Mom, putting down her glass and rubbing Rose’s arm. “That must be so disappointing. But you have to remind yourself …”
“That I’m only a sixth grader,” Rose finished sullenly. “There are no small parts, only small actors. I’ve already heard it from the director. It doesn’t help.”
Poppy leaned forward. “There are small actors in your play? Like gnomes?”
Rose ignored that.
“So who are you going to be?” Dad asked.
Rose knit her eyebrows together. “Townsperson number four. I say, ‘It’s a lovely day for a hayride.’” She laughed ruefully. “I hope I can remember my line. Del, can you help me practice my line?”
I winced. There wasn’t much to say to that.
“Sorry, Rose,” said Aster.
“May I be excused?” Rose asked.
Mom looked at Dad, then nodded.
After she left, we all sat in silence. Even though it had been a long shot that a sixth grader would have gotten a big part, it still had to be tough on Rose. She was used to being the star of the show.
Mom changed the subject. “You know, I still haven’t heard a word about Homecoming,” she said. “Can you see what’s going on with Laurie Rice?” she asked Dad. “I left her a message days ago and I haven’t heard back. I can’t wait to tell her about the ideas I ha
ve!”
Laurie Rice was a philosophy professor at the university, and she was also the head of the Homecoming Committee. She was the person who made the decisions about the flowers. I knew Laurie would be floored by Mom’s bouquets. How couldn’t she be?
“Oh, that’s right,” said Dad, slapping his forehead. “I totally forgot. Laurie’s on sabbatical this term.”
I felt a twinge of worry. A sabbatical is time away for a professor to do research or write a book. Laurie was clearly not going to be picking the Homecoming flowers this year.
“Oh dear,” said Mom, putting down her fork. “So who’s in charge?”
Dad patted her arm. “I’ll find out tomorrow, sweetie, I promise,” he said.
Mom nodded, but her forehead was creased with concern.
Dad pointed to the bouquet. “Your design is amazing. Whoever is in charge this year is going to be sure to love it!”
Since Rose was off sulking, I helped Aster rinse the plates and stack them in the dishwasher. Then I started on the pots and pans.
The house phone rang. I reached out a soapy hand and picked it up. “Bloom residence,” I said.
“Hello, may I please speak to Daisy Bloom?” a woman’s voice asked.
“May I ask who’s calling?” I said, looking pointedly at Aster and Poppy, who, along with Rose, were lacking in phone etiquette skills. They simultaneously stuck out their tongues at me. Nice.
“This is Marcia Lewis,” the voice said. “From the Homecoming Committee.”
A big grin spread over my face. I brought the phone to Mom, who was curled up on the living room couch knitting Aster a long black scarf.
“It’s a woman named Marcia Lewis,” I whispered. “She’s from the Homecoming Committee.”
Coming Up Roses Page 4
