Mom sat up straight and put her knitting to the side. I handed her the phone, then lingered in the entryway to listen.
“Hello, this is Daisy Bloom,” she said. “Hi, Marcia, how are you? Oh, that was so nice of Laurie to ask you to call me. Thank you. I can’t wait to show you our amazing idea for the Homecoming bouquets, I was hoping we could set up an appointment this week….”She paused to listen and a frown crossed her face. “Oh, I see. Well, is that your final decision?” She paused. “Okay, well, thank you for your time. Good-bye.”
Mom sat there, hanging her head. I was too afraid to say anything. Dad did it for me. “Oh, Daisy,” he said sympathetically. “That didn’t sound like it went so well.”
“It certainly didn’t,” Mom said with a groan. “This Marcia person told me that she already hired another florist to do the bouquets!”
My heart sank. “Fleur,” I said. I felt sick to my stomach. It all made perfect sense. On Monday, at the mall, I had overheard Hamilton’s mom ordering a huge quantity of red roses and yellow ranunculus — McIlhenny University’s school colors. I should have seen this coming.
Mom nodded grimly. “Fleur,” she confirmed.
Dad frowned. “Marcia is the new geography professor. She just started this fall. She probably doesn’t know that Petal Pushers has always done the flowers for Homecoming. Do you think I should talk to her?”
Mom shook her head no emphatically. “She’s allowed to make her own decisions,” she said. But then she dropped her head into her hands. “But she didn’t even give us a chance. This is the first time that our family isn’t doing the Homecoming bouquets in almost ninety years. How am I going to tell Gran and Gramps?”
My head started spinning as the true significance of what had just happened sunk in. No Homecoming business meant we would be behind in our budgeted sales for this month. We had been counting on that money. I put my hand to my forehead. This would give Aunt Lily yet another reason to insist we needed to sell the store.
What I didn’t want to think about was that maybe she was right.
As I lay in bed that night, my phone pinged, which meant I had a new text message. I reached over and picked it up. It was from Heather.
RUMOR IS HB WILL B BACK 2MRW! GONNA ASK HIM 2 HC???????
I shut off my phone and flopped over to my side. With this new turn of events, I didn’t know what I was going to do about Hamilton. Fleur had stolen away our business, yet again.
Hamilton and I had agreed not to let business get in the way. But it didn’t seem possible, not this time.
Chapter Six
“What are we going to do with all these leaves?” Mom asked sadly, holding a bright red-and-orange maple leaf by the stem.
I had stopped by the store after school and found her contemplating the collection of paraffined leaves, which she had spread out over the counter.
“I guess you could use them in birthday bouquets,” I told her with a shrug.
I wished I could be more upbeat. But school had been bleak. Hamilton was back, his eyes not looking pink in the least. Or at least that’s how it looked from far away. I was keeping my distance, too upset about the turn of Homecoming events to be friendly.
At least I was spared from discussing the store, Homecoming, or Hamilton in the cafeteria. Becky had warned my friends that all of those subjects were offlimits. That was a relief.
“I don’t know,” Mom said, setting the leaf down. “I just wish there was something really special I could do with them.” She sighed. “Not as special as Homecoming bouquets for the whole town to see, but something.”
“Well, just be sure to use them before Thanksgiving,” I said. “After that, everyone’s going to want nothing but Christmas and Hanukkah colors.”
“You’re right,” said Mom. “You’re always so practical.”
I felt terrible. Not just for Mom, but for all of us. Petal Pushers had been a part of the Homecoming tradition since the college was first founded in 1925. It seemed crazy that our involvement was over, just like that.
“You’re never going to guess who came to the store first thing this morning,” Mom said, walking behind the counter.
I was pretty sure I could guess. “Not …”
Mom nodded. “Aunt Lily. She marched in here, set her pocketbook down on the counter, and said, ‘So I heard you lost the Homecoming business.’ “
“But how …” I started. I shook my head.
“Old Lady Mafia!” we said together.
Mom and I have this theory. There seems to be a secret society of old ladies in Elwood Falls who pass around bad news seemingly as soon as it happens. It’s like they have gossip radar or something. These ladies rarely have cell phones or even know how to use computers, so it’s a wonder to me how they disperse news so quickly.
“So now she has even more ammunition to convince everyone we need to sell,” I said sadly.
Mom nodded. “She said that Fleur is going to continue taking away our business unless we take a new approach. She wants Dad to start looking at new spaces with her. This Saturday.”
I looked around the store, a lump forming in my throat. The place was so sweet and homey, from the creak of the wooden floorboards to the chipping paint on the walls. It was just so comfortable, like a cozy bathrobe or slippers. It was my favorite place in the world. And there was a really good chance I could be losing it.
It was finally Friday. Another nice thing about being an eighth grader (besides the adulation of the younger students) is the extra free period you get. Luckily, Amy had a free period at the same time, so we had met at the library to catch up on homework and hang out.
We sat at a table in the corner, Amy cramming for a science test. I was all caught up on my schoolwork, so I was inputting the phone numbers I had accumulated all week.
Amy looked up from her notes. “I know I’m not supposed to mention his name, but um, you-know-who is at the checkout counter,” she said softly. “He must have the same free period as us.”
I looked up to see Hamilton and Mike Hurley checking out two big stacks of books.
“And I also think he saw you,” Amy warned me. “Not that I’m mentioning his name or anything,” she added.
Without even thinking, I stood up and darted up the stairs to the balcony.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire library. I could see Carmine Belloni and Penelope Peterson passing each other notes and giggling. I spotted Bob Zimmer, the school bully, drawing an anchor tattoo on his arm in ballpoint pen. I stifled a laugh. Who did he think he was, Popeye the Sailor Man? And then I saw Hamilton and Mike heading right over to my table. They chatted with Amy for a bit. I guess one of them asked her a question because I saw her shrug in response. After what seemed like forever, the boys finally left the library.
When the coast was clear, I came back down the stairs.
Amy’s face was bright red. “Oh my God. I made such an idiot out of myself!” she whispered. “I meant to say ‘How are you guys?’ but I was thinking about his conjunctivitis, so I ended up saying, ‘How are your eyes?’ instead. Like he wants to be reminded about his pink eye! And then when I tried to explain, it just made it worse. How embarrassing.”
“I bet he laughed it off,” I said wistfully.
“He did,” she agreed. She looked at me searchingly. “Del, he’s a really nice guy, you know.”
“I know,” I said sadly. He was. That’s why I liked him in the first place. (Plus, there were those piercing blue eyes….) But it was just too complicated for me. And at this point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to Homecoming anymore, anyway. Maybe I’d just admire the Tupperware with Nicholas instead.
“How many appointments do you have with the realtor today?” Mom asked Dad on Saturday morning as we headed out to the store. Rose, Aster, and Poppy were coming, too.
I bent to tie my right, pink shoelace. I had an orange one in my left sneaker. A small gesture, but it cheered me up a little.
Dad looked up fro
m his bean harvest and smiled. “Four,” he said.
“Ask a lot of questions,” I told Dad as I stood up. This whole thing was giving me a major headache.
“I will,” he said, already returning to his game.
“We planted pinto beans this morning!” Poppy reminded him as we walked out the door. “They’ll be ready to harvest at three o’clock. Don’t let them wither! We need those snozzleberries!”
As soon as we got to the store, I put Rose and Aster to work dusting and sweeping. Poppy insisted on cleaning the front windows, but after she knocked down the display, crushing some of the Chinese lanterns and spilling water everywhere, I set her up at a worktable. She looked as happy as a clam to be surrounded with a pile of past-their-prime flowers we were going to throw out anyway and some curling ribbon. She immediately opened her purse and began hauling out doll accessories — brushes and barrettes and boots and sparkly minidresses. I gave a little laugh. Poppy could fit an awful lot of stuff into one tiny evening bag.
As Mom organized the orders for the day, I walked up to her. “You know I am entirely against selling this place,” I said.
Mom put a cool hand to my cheek. “Of course I do,” she said. “I feel the same way. But what can we do? Aunt Lily is so set on it.”
“I’ve been thinking. Aunt Lily said that to compete with Fleur we would need to take a new approach,” I said. “But who’s to say it needs to be as drastic as selling our store? Maybe we could take a new approach … to Homecoming.”
Mom frowned. “I don’t see what we could do. The flowers for the float and bouquets have already gone to Fleur. What’s left for us? The queen and her court can’t carry two bouquets each. We can’t both decorate the float.”
I frowned. “Dad said this parade was going to be bigger than ever. Maybe we can do a new float, like …” I frantically tried to think of something. “Like … a moose made out of roses. Now wouldn’t that be fun?”
Mom almost choked on her coffee. “Do you know how long it would take to design and make something like that? Weeks! Homecoming is next Saturday!”
I frowned. “All right. But there’s got to be something,” I said. I brightened. “How about wreaths of roses for the queen and her court to wear in their hair?”
Rose spoke up from across the room. “Brill idea, Del,” she said sarcastically. “No self-respecting queen is giving up that sparkly tiara.”
“She’s right,” Mom said. “Though there’s no need to be rude about it,” she added pointedly to my sister. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Look, Del, I want to be a part of Homecoming, too, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Dejected, I leaned on the counter next to Poppy.
“Play with me, Del,” she begged. I can never resist Poppy’s puppy-dog eyes
“Sure,” I said. “For a minute. What are we playing?”
“Dress store,” Poppy told me. She picked up her Barbie doll and walked it up to me. “Hello, madame,” she said. “May I come into your store? I need a fashionable party dress to wear to the ball.”
I stifled a laugh. Poppy’s doll, as Gran would say, was in her birthday suit. “Ah,” I said. “I see you are unexpectedly naked and in need of some clothing. Well, you have come to the right place. Welcome to my fashionable party-dress store. May I interest you in an evening gown, perhaps?” I picked up a tiny, satiny purple dress.
“That would be lovely,” Poppy said.
I struggled to get Barbie’s rigid arms into the slinky dress. Poppy looked at the outfit and frowned. “Too purple-ish,” she decided. “It needs to be fancier.” I fished a little white feather boa out of the pile and draped it around Barbie’s neck. Poppy shook her head. Still not fancy enough. Then she had a sudden inspiration. She hopped off the stool, ran to the tape dispenser, and brought it over. When she had climbed back up to her perch, she started removing rose petals from one of the flowers and taping them to the skirt of the dress.
“Cute, Pops,” I said absentmindedly. She continued to add layer after layer of sweet-smelling rose petals to the skirt.
“Voilà!” Poppy said. “Presenting the Flowery Rose Skirt!” She hopped Barbie up and down. “Do you like my fashion?” she asked me seriously.
I didn’t answer. The wheels in my brain began to turn. A rose-petal dress — would it be possible?
I grabbed Poppy by the hand and we walked over to Mom, who was flipping through the day’s orders.
“Look at what Poppy made,” I told her.
Mom glanced up. “So pretty, Poppy,” she murmured.
“No, Mom, really look. What do you think?” Mom looked from the Barbie to me, then back again. “You want me to make a skirt entirely out of rose petals for the Homecoming Queen?” she said in disbelief. “No,” I said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mom replied. “I want you to make a dress entirely out of rosebuds for the Homecoming Queen,” I explained. “What?” Mom gasped. “Sounds weird,” said Rose.
“I don’t know,” said Aster slowly. “It could be cool.”
“It was my idea,” Poppy put in.
I patted her on the head. “Yes, it was. Thank you, Pops,” I said.
I grabbed Mom’s notebook and turned to a clean page. I quickly sketched a long evening gown, then started to draw in rosebuds.
“I just can’t figure out how to attach them,” I said. Mom thought for a minute, her forehead wrinkling. And just when I was sure she was going to say “impossible!” she grinned. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a deep-red rose, flipped it over, and studied the base. “I think this could work! I would sew them on,” she said. “Glue gunning them would make it too stiff and heavy.” She nodded. “Sewing is the way to go.”
“So we’re going to try this crazy idea?” I said, my spirits lifting.
Mom nodded. “Let’s do it right now!” she said. “I’ll take care of arrangements that need to go out today and you girls run home and get the stuff we’re going to need.” She paused, and I grabbed a piece of paper to take notes. “I’ll need my sewing basket, and a dress to practice on …” Mom thought for a minute. “I have a strapless dress in the back of my closet we can use. Someone spilled a glass of red wine on it at a wedding and I’ve been meaning to dye it black. It will be perfect for this project!” “Anything else?” I asked her.
Mom nodded. “Big needles. Waxed thread. And my dress form. I’m going to need to adjust the dress a bit.” She looked at my sisters and me. “What are you waiting for? Go! Go! Go! We have a dress of roses to make!”
Chapter Seven
As soon as we got home, I sent Rose up to the attic to get the dress form. The rest of us gathered the other supplies. After I located Mom’s dress shears in the cutlery drawer (don’t ask), I went upstairs to see if Rose needed help.
“Rose?” I called into the shadowy attic.
“Over here,” she said. I found her sitting on the floor. She looked up, a smudge of dust on her cheek. She was sifting through a box marked ROSE’S PLAY PROGRAMS. “Remember when I was Annie?” she said wistfully. She started to sing. “The sun will come out …”
“I remember,” I said, cutting her off. Rose had adored being the little redheaded orphan and had remained in character throughout the whole production. There had been far too many “gee whiskers!” and “leapin’ lizards” for my taste. Plus, she had insisted on calling our dog, Buster, “Sandy,” which totally confused him.
But Rose looked so sad I couldn’t say anything to her about wasting time. So I tried distraction. I saw a weird headband that kind of looked like Martian antennae with sparkly red hearts on top and put it on to make her smile. Then I helped her put the scrapbooks away and finally, behind a large, wire birdcage in a dark corner, we located the dress form. It loomed in the darkness, ghostly white and headless.
“Kind of spooky,” said Rose.
As we left the house, Poppy held the sewing basket on her arm like she was Little Red Riding Hood, off to visit her sick grandmother. Aster was c
arrying the dress and a bag of chocolate-chip cookies we had found in the kitchen. Rose and I carried the dress form — she held the base and I had my arms wrapped around the shoulders. We were quite an odd sight.
We giggled self-consciously as we made our way to the store. We got a lot of curious looks and one woman even slowed down her car and pointed us out to her kid in a car seat in the back. Finally, we reached Fairfield Street.
“Oops. We forgot one thing!” I said, backtracking half a block to Nellie’s Notions on Pine Street.
I sent Aster and Poppy inside for the big sewing needles and a couple of spools of the waxed thread that Mom had requested. Rose and I stood outside with the dress form, feeling slightly ridiculous. As a joke, I threw my arm around the form’s shoulders.
“Well, isn’t this a cute picture,” said a voice.
I groaned.
Ashley Edwards always seemed to show up at the most embarrassing times. It was a special gift she had.
She stood on the sidewalk in front of us with her two matching best friends.
“Del, this must be your new friend,” Ashley said snarkily, pointing to the headless form.
To my surprise, Rose laughed. I gave her a dirty look.
“Hello,” I said. I decided to be polite. “This is my sister Rose.”
“Oh, I know Rose,” said Ashley, waving her hand. “I see her at school all the time.”
I frowned. I had no idea Ashley knew who my sister was.
“So, rumor has it Petal Pushers isn’t doing the Homecoming flowers,” Ashley said. “I was really sorry to hear that.”
I gave her a look. She was sorry? I highly doubted that.
“Well, we’ve got to run,” she said. “Oh, and Del?”
“Yes?” I said.
“Nice headgear.” She and her friends laughed and laughed as they took off down the street.
My heart sank. Surely I didn’t still have … I reached up. Sure enough, the stupid antennae headband was still on. I snatched it off.
I gave Rose the evil eye. “It didn’t cross your mind to tell me I still had this stupid thing on my head?’
Coming Up Roses Page 5