Too Many Blooms Read online

  “And I’m still getting used to everything,” Mom went on. “Don’t worry, it will all fall into place.” She thought for a moment and then her face brightened. “I got three new walk-in customers just from my window display! They told me so.”

  “Okay …” I said, trying to be supportive. But I couldn’t help grabbing a garbage can and tossing stems and leaves into it.

  Mom took it from me gently. “Del!” she said. “Relax. Things will be easier and neater in here once Daddy’s done with finals.”

  Yeah, I thought to myself rather meanly, things will be much better with both Mr. and Mrs. Disorganized in charge. But I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  “Go home and do your homework,” Mom added. “I’ll close up and meet you there.”

  I looked at her, about to argue.

  “Stop worrying, Delphinium,” she said firmly. “I can handle this.”

  I left the store without even getting to tell Mom about Ashley Edwards.

  I walked home, my shoulders drooping. I didn’t like the way things were going. Not one bit. Then as I reached my house, I felt my spirits lift. Gran and Gramps would be back in three months. As long as the store didn’t fall apart before then, everything was going to be okay.

  Right?

  The next morning, I went down to the kitchen, my stomach growling. Mom makes us a healthy breakfast every morning. She likes to be sure we start the day with a balanced meal. So I blinked in surprise to see Dad manning the stove, a frilly apron around his waist and a whisk in his hand.

  “Good morning, my dear,” he said. “I trust scrambled eggs will be to your liking?”

  “Um … sure,” I stammered. I glanced at Rose and Aster, who were sitting at the kitchen table in stunned silence.

  Just then Poppy made an appearance. “Twenty-two!” she announced. Poppy likes to count each step as she goes downstairs. If you somehow get caught behind her, this ends up taking forever. And she always tells us the number, as if somehow it could change from day to day.

  Then she saw Dad. And she wasn’t as polite as the rest of us.

  “Daddy’s cooking?” she wailed. “Yuck!”

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

  “In the study, on the phone with Olivia,” he said. “For forty-five minutes now. I realized if you girls were going to get a decent breakfast, I had to step in.”

  “Great,” I said with a sigh.

  Here’s the deal — Dad is a bad cook. Mom may burn dinner now and then, but when she manages to set the timer, her food is very tasty. Dad, on the other hand, has a special talent for turning ordinary meals like scrambled eggs into something completely gross. It’s like his secret, evil superpower. If he were a supervillain he would be Inedible Man — able to destroy appetites with a single dish!

  I poured Poppy and myself some orange juice.

  “So,” said Rose, looking around at all of us. “Does anyone want to ask me how the play is going?”

  “How is the play going, Rose?” we all asked in unison.

  “I’m glad you asked,” she said, fluffing her hair and smiling.

  Aster snorted. Rose gave her an elbow to the ribs.

  “The play is going great!” Rose went on. “This is the best cast yet, I swear. And I tell you, I was born to play this role. Now” — she paused for dramatic effect — “Aster helped me with my lines when we did Annie Get Your Gun last fall, so I was thinking that this time …” She smiled in my direction like she was about to give me a large and expensive gift. “… Del, would you like to do the honors?”

  “Oh!” I said in surprise. “Really?” I thought of a million excuses not to do it. Rose can be demanding, and running through the same dialogue over and over is crazy boring. But my sister was looking at me so hopefully that I had to say, “I would love to.”

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” said Rose, spreading a paper napkin daintily on her lap. “Now we have to figure out how not to eat breakfast,” she said in a low voice.

  “Voilà!” said Dad, presenting us with a towering platter of gray eggs. “I don’t know why I don’t do this more often,” he said. “This cooking thing is pretty fun!”

  Aster bravely ate a forkful, but the look on her face was enough for me. She slipped the rest into her napkin. Rose put hers back on the platter while Dad’s back was turned, then hurried out of the kitchen. Poppy tried to feed hers to Buster, but even he was not interested.

  Just then Mom swept in, still on her cell phone. She balanced it on her shoulder as she poured coffee into a thick, purple mug I had made for her in pottery class. “That’s great, Olivia. Okay, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Just think about what I said. Okay, good-bye.” Mom snapped the phone shut and sat down at the table.

  “Well, she’s certainly a handful,” she said, slathering raspberry jam on a cold piece of toast. “She’s freaking out about the centerpieces and we haven’t even talked themes or colors yet. I suggested she might want to get a wedding planner to help her.” She poured some milk into her coffee and stirred it. “I hope she takes my advice,” she added with a sigh.

  “I know she’s a pain,” I told Mom as I got up from the table, my napkin concealing the uneaten eggs on my plate. “But just remember, she’s our customer and the customer is always right, no matter what.” I hurriedly dumped the eggs in the trash, rinsed my plate, and placed it in the dishwasher.

  Mom stood up and kissed me on both cheeks. “You’ve learned very well from your grandparents, Del,” she said. “It’s just that Olivia is such a …”

  “Bridezilla,” we both said together.

  “Grrrr!” said Poppy delightedly, baring her teeth and curling her hands into claws.

  I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but when I got to school, I was totally looking for Señor Guapo, I mean, Mr. Do-Si-Do. (Or maybe I should call him Mr. Do-Si-Don’t, considering my squashed toes.) I told myself I just felt bad for him because he didn’t know anyone.

  It wasn’t until lunchtime that I saw him on the other line in the cafeteria. He had a hamburger, French fries, and three, count ‘em, three chocolate milks on his tray. Not that it was any of my business, but you have to admit, that is a lot of chocolate milk, growing boy or not. I briefly considered calling his name and inviting him to sit with me and my friends, but before I got up the nerve, he had disappeared into the crowded lunchroom.

  I joined Becky at our usual table, sitting with our friends Jessica Wu, Amy Arthur, and Heather. As soon as I sat down, Becky leaned forward eagerly and started to talk. But her mouth was full and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

  “Chew!” I said, laughing.

  She swallowed her mac and cheese and started over. “I forgot to tell you something last night on the phone!” she said.

  “Go on,” I said, unwrapping my chicken salad sandwich.

  Becky shivered with excitement. As the daughter of the “About Town” columnist (Becky’s mom hates to be called a gossip columnist, but technically, that’s what she is), Becky loves to share a good story.

  “My mom told me that there’s going to be a cover story on Olivia and her fiancé in the Stylish Times section!” she said breathlessly.

  “Wait, who’s Olivia?” Jessica wanted to know, running her hand through her jet-black pixie cut. She dresses super-girly, mostly in short skirts and leggings, so no one ever mistakes her for a boy.

  Becky looked like she was about to burst as I hit the pause button and filled our three friends in.

  The Stylish Times is the section in the local newspaper that features all the wedding announcements, fundraisers, fancy parties, concerts, and openings that happen in town. It’s a big deal to certain people to get featured in it. Olivia must be totally excited, I thought.

  Once everyone was up-to-date, Becky continued. “And get this — remember last year when that revival of The Sound of Music came to town with that famous singing lady and everyone in town was fighting over tickets?”

  “That’s right,”
I said. Rose had begged my parents to get tickets, but they hadn’t been able to.

  “Oh, I remember!” said Amy, looking studious in her new rectangular glasses. The glasses looked good with her pale skin and reddish hair, but I still hadn’t gotten used to her wearing them. “My mother was so mad she didn’t get to go.”

  “A lot of people were,” Becky said. “My mom got an entire column out of that one!”

  “So what does The Sound of Music have to do with Olivia?” I wondered. I pulled open my barbecue potato chip bag, fished out a chip, and crunched it. Yum.

  “Well, Olivia went to the concert with her boyfriend at the time. And she just so happened to be seated next to a very handsome man who was there on a date himself. But for Olivia and the handsome guy, it was love at first sight. By the final curtain call they had exchanged e-mail addresses. And now they’re getting married.”

  “Ooh!” squealed Amy. “That is sooooo romantic!”

  I licked orange barbecue powder off my fingers. “Not for their dates, it wasn’t!” I said.

  Becky let out a yelp. “You’re right, Del!”

  “Oh man!” said Heather.

  I guess it wasn’t particularly funny for their dates, either. But we all got a good laugh out of it. We had to explain it to Jessica, who can be a bit of a space cadet, but when she got it she laughed, too.

  “What’s so funny?” said a voice.

  I looked up to see Ashley standing by our table, wearing her usual snotty expression.

  “None of your business,” I replied.

  Ashley shook her head at the bag of chips in front of me. “I can’t believe you eat that stuff, Delphinium,” she said. “Yuck!”

  I ignored her and shook a couple more chips into my mouth. “Mmm-mmmm good,” I said, smacking my lips. I smiled sweetly at her. “Can we help you, Ashley?”

  Ashley tossed her hair proudly. “I just wanted to let you know something totally fab,” she began. I gritted my teeth. “The guest list has been finalized for the wedding.” She smiled. “Five hundred people are invited.”

  What? My heart skipped a beat. That’s a lot of centerpieces for one small store to make! But I tried not to let my panic show on my face.

  “And,” she continued, “you do remember that the groom’s father is the mayor, don’t you? As you can imagine, there are several very important people invited.”

  “Oh yeah, like who?” I asked. “The town dogcatcher?”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Hel-lo, Delphinium. Like the fire chief and the entire city council?”

  “How exciting for you,” I said.

  “And we’ve been dress shopping for superexpensive bridesmaids dresses,” she added. She eyed my faded jeans, vintage Snoopy T-shirt, orange cardigan, and my favorite Vans with the multicolored robots on them. “One dress will probably cost more than your whole wardrobe.” She paused, then added, “I really hope you guys can handle this wedding!”

  Now what was my comeback? Oh yeah! “Calm down, Tinky Winky,” I said. But Ashley was already headed back to her table, her off-white suede boots click-clacking on the lunchroom floor.

  “That was funny, Del,” said Becky supportively. The rest of my friends nodded. But it was too little too late.

  Chapter Five

  It was the first Saturday — my full day at the shop — since Gran and Gramps had left. Mom and I headed out bright and early, grabbing breakfast bars from the kitchen on our way. Dad was already tying on his frilly apron, and I was glad to have an excuse to skip another of his culinary creations.

  “I think today should go well,” Mom said as we set off down the front steps.

  “I’m sure it will,” I said absentmindedly. Then I turned to her. “Wait, what do you mean? Is something special happening today?”

  “Olivia finally hired a wedding planner!” she said happily. “And the planner is going bridesmaid dress shopping with Olivia and her friends this morning. So when Olivia comes in to the store this afternoon she should know her colors and we can get started choosing flowers!”

  “Wait, Olivia is coming in today?” I asked. “Alone?” I added hopefully.

  “No, I think she’ll have her bridal party with her,” Mom said.

  “Mom!” I cried. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sure I did …” Mom said. She shrugged. “Or maybe I forgot to. Does it really make a difference, anyway?”

  The difference was that if I knew we were having a special meeting — possibly with Ashley there — I would not be dressed up like a reject from that old show Gramps liked to watch called Hee Haw. I looked down at my patched jeans and ratty sneakers and briefly considered running home and changing my outfit. I had been planning on cleaning out the flower refrigerator that day and had dressed accordingly. I hadn’t even washed my hair.

  “You’re never going to believe this,” I told Mom with a sigh, “but it turns out that Ashley Edwards is Olivia’s cousin. So there’s a chance she might be there today.”

  Mom grimaced as we crossed the street. She knows how much I dislike Ashley. “I can open up by myself,” she said. “Do you want to run home and change?”

  I mentally started going through my wardrobe and assembling a cool yet casual outfit, then stopped myself. “No way,” I concluded. “If I change my clothes, then it’s like I care what she thinks.” I quickly pulled out the two pigtails I was wearing and combed my fingers through my hair. “This look says I don’t care at all.”

  Mom seemed like she was trying not to laugh.

  “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?” I asked.

  “Well, maybe just a bit,” Mom admitted. Then she grinned. “I can’t believe Pinky Dinky is Olivia’s cousin!”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Oh, Mom,” I said.

  After we settled in, Mom sat down behind the counter and began flipping through her sketchbook. I opened the refrigerator door and started cleaning up stray petals and leaves from the floor. It was chilly work. The whole time I kept thinking, Please, Olivia, leave your junior bridesmaid at home today!

  At precisely 2:14 (the appointment was at 1:30, but who was keeping track? Besides me, that is.) Olivia entered the store, her engagement ring flashing like a paparazzi’s flashbulb. A seemingly endless line of people followed her inside. There were fourteen, yes, I said fourteen of her closest friends, all of them as pretty and polished as Olivia herself. There was her mom and grandmother. And, I was sorry to see, one obnoxious twelve-year-old cousin, dressed to the nines. She was wearing a fake fur vest (at least I assumed it was fake, but with Ashley you never know) over a ribbed turtleneck. Black jeans and ankle boots completed the outfit.

  She said nothing, but gave me the up and down and curled her lip.

  Maybe I should have gone home and changed.

  The store was now packed with chattering women. The mingled scent of hair spray and perfume canceled out the usual sweet flowery smell.

  Mom looked around wildly. “Um, Olivia, where’s your wedding planner?” she asked. Then she grew serious. “You did get one, didn’t you?”

  Olivia laughed a tinkly little laugh. “Oh yes!” she said. “I think she had to stop off at the pharmacy for something. She said she’d meet us here.”

  The bell over the door jingled and an older woman walked in. She wore a bright red coat, towering black pumps, and bright red lipstick. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a severe bun.

  “Hello, I’m Corinne Jacobsen, the wedding planner,” she said. “Can I get a glass of water, please?” she asked, holding up a bottle of aspirin.

  Mom and I looked at each other, our eyes wide. If the wedding planner had a headache, then the bridesmaid dress selection had not gone well at all.

  And that didn’t bode well for us.

  I pulled a couple of folding chairs from the back room, but there weren’t nearly enough places for people to sit, so we had bridesmaids all over the place, perched on one another’s laps and sitting cross-legged on the floor. I stood in
the corner, carefully positioning myself so I could avoid having to look at Ashley, who sat at her cousin’s feet.

  Mom got Corinne a cup of water, then stood in front of the group, her hands clasped, waiting for everyone to settle down. Finally, one enterprising bridesmaid stuck two fingers into her mouth and let out a whistle. Everyone quieted immediately. I stared at the girl admiringly. I could never figure out how to do that. And not for lack of trying, either. It would come in handy with my family.

  “Welcome to Flowers on Fairfield!” Mom said, her voice a bit shaky. I clasped my hands together anxiously. As I learned in English class when we did public speaking, there is nothing worse than listening to someone who is nervous speak. It puts you on edge, too.

  Calm down, I thought, trying to send Mom a message. You can do this.

  “We are so excited to be a part of your special day, Olivia,” she continued.

  Olivia nodded and beamed.

  “So I wanted to hear how dress shopping went this morning,” Mom went on in her fake cheerful voice. “Have you settled on a color?”

  Everyone started to jabber at once. Mom kept smiling, but her neck was starting to turn bright red. I had the sudden terrified feeling that she was going to throw up all over the wedding planner, who had managed to snag one of the chairs and was sitting right in front of her.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “No one can agree on anything!” she whined.

  “Well, that pink dress with the tulle skirt was totally perfect!” said a dark-haired bridesmaid with hoop earrings.

  “Yeah,” agreed the bridesmaid who had whistled.

  “That’s because you two look good in pink,” scoffed a redhead. “And I don’t!”

  “That’s just a myth,” said the dark-haired girl.

  The redhead gave her the evil eye. “Have you ever seen me in pink?” she asked. “I look like a baked ham.”

  Olivia shuddered.

  “Now that emerald green dress …” started the redhead.

  “Yuck!” called out a petite blonde. “I look like a corpse in green!”