I explained where she could find them and refrained from adding Where they belong. No need to rile anyone up any further! I also decided to skip going to the store that afternoon. I might be tempted to do some more organizing and I knew how well that would go over!
In the middle of breakfast the next morning, Mom’s cell phone rang. It was the theme from that old movie Jaws — you know, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-Dum, da-DUM! Just before the shark attacks.
Mom reached over to the kitchen counter and picked the phone up, looking confused. Her eyebrows rose as she recognized the name on the display.
“Hello, Olivia,” she answered. “Of course this isn’t a bad time …” We all watched as she made a “sorry” face at us and wandered out of the kitchen.
I stared at my sisters. Which one was the ringtone culprit? Rose looked innocent, but she was an actress, I reminded myself. I turned to Aster. She tried to look really busy cutting up her rock-hard waffle, but I could see the mischievous look in her eye.
I glowered at the two of them, since the twins rarely worked alone. “Jaws?” I said, shaking my head. “Very unprofessional.”
Rose shook her head back at me. “You are no fun,” she said.
“Totally,” added Aster.
That stung. Who wants to be thought of as un-fun?
I looked at Dad. “May I be excused?” I asked.
He put his hand over his heart. “‘All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast’!” he quoted dramatically. “John Gunther.”
I apologized and left the kitchen, grabbing Buster’s leash from the doorknob. Sometimes I just needed a break from all the Blooms.
That was not the last family meal that Olivia would interrupt. She called a few times a week, sometimes every day. Even though she had her wedding planner, she liked to run things by Mom, too. She said she “trusted her taste.”
It turned out that Mom liked the idea of a special ringtone just for Olivia so she was always mentally prepared when the phone rang (or, I suspected, so she could send her calls straight to voice mail). So I helped Mom change it to the more appropriate “Here Comes the Bride.” We were all pretty sick of that song after a while. One day, Olivia had flipped out because she hated her headpiece and couldn’t find one that she liked. The next day she didn’t like the song she and her fiancé had picked for their first dance. And she changed her mind about the shade of the flowers in the centerpieces a million times.
One night I heard Mom on the phone, saying to Olivia: “Well, I don’t know if the roses will match the exact shade of pink in tonight’s sunset. But we’ll try our best.”
Olivia really was a Bridezilla. Though we never used that word in Poppy’s presence again, just to be safe.
One rare phone call–free morning, we sat at the kitchen table finishing up breakfast. We had opted for cold cereal despite Dad’s insistence that he would make “tasty French toast.”
“So I was thinking tonight felt like a Muppet Movie kind of night,” said Dad, looking up from the newspaper.
“Huh?” I said.
“For Movie Night,” Dad said. “And how about some rocky road?”
I stared at him. Was he for real?
“Movie Night,” he repeated. “You know, we do it every Friday?”
Mom spoke up. “Well, maybe Dad’s right,” she said slowly. “There’s no reason not to continue with Movie Night …”
I stood up, feeling a lump in my throat. “No way,” I said. “Movie Night is what we do with Gran and Gramps. End of story.”
Everyone stared at me.
After a moment, Dad shrugged. “Okay, okay,” he said. “But it would be a lot of fun …”
I sat back down and shook my head. And then we all went back to eating our Rice Krispies in silence. Though I did notice Rose and Aster exchanging glances. I don’t understand Twin, so I had no idea what they were saying to each other. Maybe they thought I was being unreasonable. But I didn’t care.
At school that afternoon, I sat on a bench in the locker room, tying my sneakers. My gym uniform was freshly laundered (and ironed!) and smelled like fabric softener. I was even wearing matching yellow socks.
Not that I was trying to look good for anyone.
I marched into the gymnasium and sat down in my spot. I turned around and waved to Hamilton, who gave me his trademark lazy grin back.
Tweet! Mr. Rolando blasted his whistle. “I have an announcement to make,” he said when he had everyone’s attention. “It seems that one of our students has broken his leg skateboarding and will be excused from gym class until his cast is off.”
I scanned the room to see who was missing, and realized it was Bob the bully.
“So that means that Ashley Edwards needs a new partner,” Mr. Rolando added.
Ashley tried to look concerned about Bob’s well-being, but couldn’t hold back the big smile that spread across her face. My heart sank. I knew what was coming. There was only one student in class who didn’t have a permanent partner.
“Hamilton, would you please partner up with Ashley?” said Mr. Rolando. “Places, everyone. We’re going to start with ‘Duck for the Oyster.’”
We all rose to our feet, but I just wanted to disappear.
“Howdy partner,” said Ashley flirtatiously as Hamilton ambled up to her. She slipped her hands in his.
I tried not to cringe as Rodney placed his clammy hands in mine. This was going to be a long afternoon.
After school I stopped by the store. We had just gotten a delivery of roses and Mom was removing the thorns and lower leaves. I cleared my throat. “You know, Mom, when Gramps de-thorned roses he always —”
“I’m fine,” Mom snapped.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Mom closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Del. I’m just on edge. Olivia was supposed to come in hours ago to drop off her deposit.” She looked at her watch, and grabbed a rose stem. “Ow!” she cried. She put her thumb in her mouth. “It just doesn’t make sense,” Mom went on, reaching for the first-aid kit to retrieve a Band-Aid. “She called me four times yesterday. The wedding is in a couple of weeks. So why isn’t she here today? I wonder if there’s a problem.”
“Oh, there’s a problem all right,” said a familiar voice. We both looked up.
Aunt Lily, perfectly pulled together as always, stood in front of us. She looked even more serious than usual.
I stared at her. “Where did …”
“I came in the back entrance,” explained Aunt Lily, cutting me off. “The problem is that there’s a new florist in town. It’s called Fleur.”
“Floor?” I scoffed. “That’s a dumb name.”
Aunt Lily gave me a withering glance. “Fleur,” she repeated icily. “As in the French word for ‘flower.’”
“Oh,” I said sheepishly. “I take Spanish.”
Aunt Lily shook her head, annoyed. “It’s in the mall. Where the Nut Hut used to be. And apparently Olivia Post is considering them as her florist for the wedding!”
“What?” I cried.
Mom looked stricken. “But how …” she started to ask. “Ethel Murray had lunch with Olivia’s grandmother today and she mentioned it. Ethel called me immediately, of course.” Aunt Lily looked at me sharply. “What’s so funny, Del?”
I couldn’t help myself. Old Lady Mafia strikes again! I thought to myself, but I quickly wiped the smile off my face. “Nothing is funny, Aunt Lily,” I said. “Nothing at all.”
Mom groaned. “This is terrible!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.
“This is disastrous,” clarified Aunt Lily. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?” said Mom.
“Call her right now,” said Aunt Lily.
Mom picked up the phone and dialed Olivia’s number. She snapped the phone shut after a minute. “Straight to voice mail,” she said. My stomach tightened. It was official. Olivia was avoiding us.
“Call her again,” demanded Aunt Lily. “Leave a message.”
<
br /> Mom sighed and picked up her phone.
An idea came to me then. The mall was close by. And what could be so special about this Fleur place, anyway? There was only one way to find out.
I hated to leave Mom with mean Aunt Lily (and a shipment of roses) but I knew what I had to do. “I’ll be right back,” I said. Mom just nodded.
I ran home as fast as I could. My bike was in the shed. It hadn’t been ridden all winter, but luckily I didn’t have a flat. I hopped on my bike and rode straight to Becky’s house. She answered the door in her jeans and slippers.
“Hey, Del,” she said. “What’s up?”
“There’s a new florist in town and they’ve stolen away our Bridezilla,” I said quickly. “I need you to help me spy on them.”
“Okay,” said Becky, quickly ditching her slippers and pulling on her sneakers. One of the many reasons Becky is my best friend: She is always up for an adventure, no questions asked. “Sounds cool.”
Minutes later, we were pedaling over to the mall. Once we got there, we locked up our bikes in the rack and went inside. I could smell freshly baked soft pretzels, my favorite snack of all time. But I managed to walk right by the stand. I was on a mission.
Aunt Lily was right. The Nut Hut, which had been out of business for at least six months, was now a flower shop. A big GRAND OPENING sign hung in the window. An arch of white and silver balloons framed the door. I shook my head. After all these years, Flowers on Fairfield finally had some competition. And the timing could not have been worse.
Becky and I huddled in front of Kiddie Kasuals, whispering to each other. “We’ve got to come up with a story,” I told her.
She was excited. “Right! Our cover!” She thought for a moment. “Let’s say we’re adopted sisters who are buying a birthday present for our mom,” she said.
“Creative,” I replied. “But potential for disaster. We don’t have a lot of time to get our story straight.”
Becky nodded, disappointed.
I thought for a moment. “Let’s say your grandma’s birthday is coming up and you are thinking of sending her flowers.”
Becky frowned. “That’s boring because it’s true!” she said.
“But it’s easy,” I said.
“We’re spying, Del,” said Becky. “It’s not supposed to be easy.”
I was about to argue with her (since when was Becky a spying expert?) but it was getting late. So I took a deep breath and headed inside.
My heart sank as I looked around. The place was huge, at least twice as big as my family’s store. Sleek and shiny with lots of polished chrome. The floor was made of dark cement slabs that looked unfinished and dirty to me, but were probably the height of interior design. The flower cooler was gigantic, and packed with a dozen different kinds of roses. There were some blooms so exotic I had never even seen them before. There were also aisles and aisles of gifts — designer chocolates, retro-looking handmade stuffed animals, scented candles, and a whole row of potted orchids so beautiful (and expensive) they took my breath away. It was the exact opposite of Flowers on Fairfield. Even the name — Fleur — was sleek and cool compared to the unwieldy and old-fashioned Flowers on Fairfield. Flowers on Fairfield was the rotary phone to Fleur’s iPhone. Flowers on Fairfield was the horse and buggy to Fleur’s …
“Can I help you?” My dark thoughts were interrupted by a tall woman with blonde hair, who stood smiling at us.
“It’s my birthday!” Becky burst out. “I mean it’s my grandmother’s birthday!” She glanced around wildly. “She likes flowers!”
I looked at Becky in alarm. My friend had a lot of talents, but espionage was apparently not one of them.
Once Becky had gotten her story straight, the woman took us over to a brand-new computer sitting on a shiny table. “Now, obviously, we can design a beautiful bouquet for your grandmother,” she said. “But any flower shop can do that. What makes Fleur so special is this …” She clicked the mouse and a page opened up. “This is where you can design a virtual bouquet,” she explained. “You click here” — she demonstrated —”to pick your container — vase, basket, planter, jar, you name it. Then you fill your virtual vase with your flowers and arrange them however you want to. Then you can add ribbons, balloons, stuffed animals, or candy, if you like. Then you hit the CREATE button, and we will design your bouquet to your exact specifications. Part of the service here at Fleur, the florist for the twenty-first century!”
I wondered if that was a dig at the competition, since Flowers on Fairfield, Serving Your Floral Needs Since 1912, is pretty much the florist for the early twentieth century.
Despite myself, my fingers itched to design a virtual bouquet. Becky reached for the mouse at the same time, but I won. I had just chosen a tall, fluted vase and was considering my floral options when the store’s phone rang.
“I’ll be right back,” the woman said pleasantly.
I was trying to decide between dendrobium and calypso orchids when I heard the blonde woman say something that made my blood freeze.
“Thank you, Corinne,” she said into the phone. “I look forward to seeing you and Olivia tonight at five o’clock. I can personally guarantee that Fleur will create the wedding of her dreams!”
Chapter Eight
Becky looked at me, wide-eyed, and I could only stare back at her in shock. So it was true — we’d lost our biggest customer! Mom was going to be so disappointed. I felt terrible.
The blonde woman hung up the phone and walked back over to us. “Is everything okay?” she asked, seeing our wan expressions.
“Um, we have to go home now,” said Becky. “Our mom is … I mean my mom … uh, my grandma …” Her voice trailed off. “We have to go home,” she repeated lamely.
And I couldn’t criticize Becky for her fumbling, because I wasn’t even capable of forming words at that point.
The woman seemed confused for a moment. Then she smiled and handed us each a magnet with the Fleur website’s URL on it. “You can design your virtual bouquet at home!” she said. “As long as you have a major credit card. And your parents’ permission.”
I took the magnet and shoved it in my pocket. “Thank you,” I said miserably.
I waited until we had exited the mall before I spoke.
“Ashley!” I hissed as we unlocked our bikes.
“Huh?” said Becky.
“I know what happened,” I muttered, fuming. “Ashley told Olivia that we call her Bridezilla behind her back,” I said. “So Olivia changed florists.”
“You really think so?” said Becky.
“Oh, I know so,” I said. “I bet Ashley even told her all about Fleur. You know how much time Ashley spends at the mall.”
“Maybe,” said Becky thoughtfully.
After I dropped Becky off at home, I pedaled back to the store in furious silence. Ashley was without question the most awful person I had ever met in my life. It was bad enough when she was mean to me. But to take away my family’s business — that was inexcusable. Just thinking about it made my blood boil.
“This is very bad. Very bad!” said Aunt Lily, pacing back and forth in front of the counter. I had just filled her and Mom in on my store visit. “Twice as big! Twice as many flowers! Visual bouquets!”
“Virtual,” I corrected.
Aunt Lily glared at me. “And they’ve stolen the biggest wedding of the year right from under our noses!” She turned to Mom. “Our store is in big trouble,” she said. “We could go out of business. Your parents never should have left.”
Mom just looked crestfallen. After Aunt Lily walked out, muttering to herself, I helped Mom put the flowers back in the cooler before we closed for the night.
“True, Olivia was a handful,” Mom said with a sigh as she locked the front door. “But I put a lot of work into her wedding. And it was such a big order! Fifty centerpieces!” she said. Her shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe it,” she added sadly. “What a disappointment.”
I balled my han
ds into fists. I didn’t have the heart to tell Mom about the Ashley connection. The afternoon had been hard enough as it was.
I walked my bike between us as we made our way home. “Do you think we should tell Gran and Gramps?” I asked.
Mom, Dad, and I had decided that we wouldn’t bother Gran and Gramps with work stuff unless it was a life-or-death emergency. Otherwise, Dad said, they’d come running back to fix things. But this was starting to feel a little like life or death to me. Maybe it was time.
Mom shook her head. “There’s nothing they can do,” she said. “It will only worry them. They’ll find out soon enough.”
“But is Aunt Lily right? Can we lose the business?” I couldn’t imagine us closing up Flowers on Fairfield … for good. There was just no way.
“I don’t know, Del,” she said. “But it will happen whether or not we bother Gran and Gramps. So let’s let them get settled before we tell them the bad news.”
“All right,” I said. We walked home the rest of the way in silence. The only sound was my squeaky front wheel. I’d have to do something about that when I got home.
To say I was distracted at school the next couple of days was the understatement of the year. I accidentally took Aster’s homework folder to school with me. (She was not very happy about that, as she got in trouble.) I forgot my lunch money. My teacher called on me in Spanish class and I answered, “rosa,” with the correct accent and everything, which means pink. Which would have been fine if I were answering her previous question, which had been What color is your shirt? But as the class (including, I noticed, my dear friend Amy) roared with laughter, Señora Jankowski explained that I had actually answered her next question, which was What color are your eyes? You can understand my embarrassment. How often does your teacher laugh at you?
Gym class was the worst. I was forced to watch Ashley and Hamilton dancing together, and having a great time. Hamilton’s square dancing had not improved one bit. He circled left when he was supposed to go right. His allemandes were all over the place. But that didn’t seem to bother Ashley. She giggled all class long. And that just made me more and more annoyed. Especially now that I knew the truth about what she’d done.
Too Many Blooms Page 6
