Coming Up Roses (6 page)

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 carrying 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?’

She shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

When Poppy and Aster emerged from the store, Poppy grabbed the headband out of my hand and put it on her head. “It’s about time you shared!” she said.

Inside Petal Pushers, Mom squealed when she saw Poppy. “My Deely Boppers!” she cried. “I haven’t seen those things in years!” My eyes widened. Mom wore those things in public — on purpose?

Miraculously, Mom had finished all of the orders that needed to go out. She was ready to devote the rest of the day to making the rose dress. She had laid out every red rose we had in the store on the worktable. But first things first. She reached into the sewing basket and pulled out the tape measure.

“Del, I think you should model the dress,” she said. “I’ll have to adjust it a bit to fit you.”

“Lucky stiff!” said Poppy. Rose scowled. And I have to say, I was pleased to be picked.

Mom took my measurements and adjusted the dress form accordingly. Then she ripped open some seams on the dress and pinned it to fit the Del-sized form.

Meanwhile, we cut the roses under Mom’s strict instructions — precisely one-quarter of an inch under the sepals, which are the pointy green things on the bottom side of roses. They protect the flower when it’s a bud.

When that was done, I went into the bathroom and slipped on the dress, which fit almost perfectly. We didn’t have a full-length mirror, but I wondered if I looked as glamorous as I felt in the strapless dress, red wine stain or not. I stepped back into the shop and spun around, the skirt poofing out prettily.

“Looks great,” said Mom.

“Give it a rest, Maria von Trapp,” Rose said grumpily.

With a sigh I went back into the bathroom and changed back into my regular outfit. I came back out with the dress and Mom laid it on the counter.

She ran her finger over the stain on front of the dress. “Let’s start with the top,” she said. “See how it goes.”

We all leaned forward in anticipation. Even Rose’s bad mood seemed to have lifted in the excitement.

Mom threaded a needle, picked up the first rose, and, with a certain amount of effort, forced the needle through the stem just below the sepal.

“Ouch,” she said. “Where’s my thimble?” I rooted around in the sewing basket until I found it. Then she sewed the rose right to the dress. All alone like that, it looked like a lame corsage someone had mistakenly pinned
to their belly button. But as Mom added more roses, the dress suddenly began to take form.

We were surprised to discover how many roses it took to cover just the top half of the dress. We had seriously underestimated how many roses we would need.

“Well, good thing we’re not in a rush,” I said.

“Um … we kind of are,” said Mom. “I already called Marcia and set up an appointment for this afternoon.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right,” I said.

“I’m not joking,” Mom said.

My mouth fell open in shock. “Mom! You set up an appointment with her before the dress was even made?”

Mom shrugged. “I’m thinking positively,” she said.

I shook my head, but I couldn’t argue.

We tried calling Dad to help us, but we couldn’t reach him. I hoped it wasn’t because he was too busy viewing the perfect new location for Petal Pushers!

So I sent out the 9-1-1 text to my friends. HELP! WE NEED 4 DOZ RED ROSES ASAP! CAN YOU BRING TO PP? PAY U BACK, PROMISE!

It’s in times of need that you find out who your friends are. Mine all passed with flying colors.

B RIGHT THERE! texted Becky.

C U SOON! wrote Jess.

HA! I’M AT MALL. CARE IF THEY COME FROM FLEUR? wrote Heather.

That made me laugh. NOPE! I wrote back to her.

Help was on the way!

So we had quite an audience as Mom sewed the final rose onto the top half of the dress.

“It’s gorgeous!” Becky squealed. “Awesome!” cried Jessica. “I want one!” said Heather.

Now all we had to do was convince Marcia Lewis that she wanted one, too.

We closed the shop and my friends took off. We dropped the protesting Rose, Aster, and Poppy at Mrs. Kelly’s, and practically flew to the university. When we got there, I crouched in the back of the van and put on the dress.

Soon, Mom and I sat in Marcia’s office, waiting for her to arrive. My heart beat double-time as I adjusted
the large black shawl that covered the top half of the dress.

Finally, Marcia entered her office. She was a little older than my mom, with jet-black hair pulled into a long, sleek ponytail. She was dressed casually but stylishly, wearing jeans, a black turtleneck, and knee-high black boots.

“Marcia,” said Mom, standing up and reaching out her hand. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”

“This had better knock my socks off,” Marcia said brusquely. “Do you have any idea how busy I am? It’s a week before Homecoming!” She sat behind her desk and crossed her arms. “You’ve got …” She checked her watch. “Seven minutes. Start talking.”

I was glad Mom was in charge. I was so nervous I was pretty sure I’d be unable to form a complete sentence.

Mom took a deep breath. “Well, since this is your first year as Homecoming director, we realized you probably wanted to do something that would really make people sit up and take notice. So we created a floral piece that is guaranteed to get everyone’s attention.”

“We have all the flowers we need,” Marcia told her. But despite herself, she looked intrigued. “So where are these showstopping flowers?”

Mom nudged my leg. I stood and positioned myself next to Marcia’s desk, the shawl still wrapped loosely around my shoulders.

“Any Homecoming Queen can carry a bouquet of flowers,” Mom said. “But how many Homecoming Queens get to
wear
an entire dress made of flowers?”

That was my cue. I dropped the shawl to the floor dramatically and did my best supermodel pose.

“Oh my,” said Marcia.

“Imagine if you will,” Mom said, “a ball gown made entirely of roses from head to toe. Everything will truly be coming up roses!”

Marcia looked stunned. I watched her carefully. Was that good or bad? Then she picked up her phone. “The Homecoming Committee has got to see this,” she said, dialing a number. “Alison,” she said into the phone, “can you drop everything and round up the committee?”

Mom and I exchanged a hopeful glance.

About ten minutes later, the room was filled with faculty and students.

The room was buzzing as everyone gathered around me to take a closer look. “It’s amazing!” someone said. “Beautiful!” said another.

This time, Mom and I exchanged excited glances. The dress was a hit!

There was a knock on the door. A very pretty student with long, straight, dark hair and dark eyes popped her head in. “Oh, Professor, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize …” she said when she took in the crowd of people jammed into Marcia’s office. Then she saw the dress. She stared at it, her eyes as round as saucers.

“This is Emily, one of our Homecoming finalists,” Marcia explained. “So what do you think?”

“Oh. My. God,” Emily said. “If I don’t get to be Homecoming Queen and wear that dress I am just going to die.”

Mom and I grinned at each other.
Yes!

Marcia nodded. “Okay. We’ll need to discuss it and take a look at our budget and get back to you,” she said,
shaking my hand and then my mother’s. “Thanks so much for coming in.”

My face fell. I thought we would get our answer today. Mom and I walked through the familiar campus in silence. We passed by the quad on the way, filled with students acting like it was a warm spring day: eating lunch, tossing Frisbees, playing guitar. I stared at one guy who was walking around barefoot.

“There’s one on every campus,” said Mom.

“Well, everyone really seemed to love the dress!” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Marcia soon with good news.”

Mom shrugged. “They did like it. A lot,” she said. “And a ‘we’ll see’ is definitely better than a ‘no.’ But they might not have the budget for it. A dress made entirely of roses is not going to exactly be cheap, you know.”

“I know,” I said. The wind gusted, swirling dead leaves around our feet. I pulled the shawl around me more tightly.

“We should have brought your clothes with us,” said Mom worriedly. “You’re going to catch your death of cold.”

I smiled at her Gran-ism. “I’m fine, Mom,” I told her.

As soon as we reached the parking lot, Mom stopped in her tracks. “Delly? Do you happen to remember exactly where I parked the van?” she asked, looking around the parking lot. I groaned. I had been distracted and anxious when we arrived and hadn’t made my usual mental note.

She cupped her hand over her eyes and squinted. “Oh, there it is!” she said, relieved. We headed over to the white van. I walked over to the passenger side and jerked open the door. I blinked. Something wasn’t quite right.

Mom looked at the air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. “Vanillaroma,” she read. “Where did
that
come from?”

“Mom,” I said, looking at the floor mats, which were decidedly unfamiliar. “This isn’t our car.”

Laughing sheepishly, we slammed the doors shut.

“You know what Dad would say,” I told Mom.

She nodded. “ ‘ That never would have happened if people would just lock their cars!’ “

“That never would have happened if people would just lock their cars!” Dad said after we relayed the story to him that night over dinner.

The rest of us burst out laughing.

“I don’t get it. Why is that funny?” Dad wanted to know, which only made us laugh harder. So predictable!

He took a sip of water. “So what do you think? Will they take the rose dress?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mom said. “We’re just going to have to wait and see.”

Dad cleared his throat. “You do know that even if Marcia does take the dress, it doesn’t change the fact that we may still have to sell the store.”

Mom and I exchanged glances.

“We understand,” I said. “It’s just the principle of the
thing. Fleur can’t just take all the Homecoming business from us, you know?”

Dad nodded.

Still, I couldn’t help hoping that saving at least part of the Homecoming business would make everyone realize things weren’t quite so dire for the store.

I crossed my fingers for luck before I not-so-casually asked, “So how did
your
day go?”

Dad gave a small laugh. “Your great-aunt is quite a force to be reckoned with.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“She drove the realtor crazy. Nothing made her happy. One place was too big, the other too small. One didn’t have enough parking. Another was too close to a clothing store that sold ‘inappropriate attire for young ladies.’ “

“She really said that?” asked Rose.

“That she did,” said Dad. “She gave him quite a tongue-lashing for taking us there.”

“Oh dear,” said Mom. “The poor guy!”

In Spanish class on Monday, my phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. I had a text message. My heart skipped a
beat. I knew it had to be my mom, because all my friends were in class. And she would never text me during school unless it was something totally important — like she had heard from Marcia about the Homecoming dress! I briefly considered sneaking my phone open, but Señora Friedman was tough — using a cell phone in class meant instant detention. But I couldn’t wait a whole forty minutes to read my text, either.

I raised my hand. Unfortunately, my timing was off. Señora Friedman thought I was volunteering to answer her next question.

“Señorita Bloom,” said my teacher.
“¿Como se dice
‘she sleeps’?”

I thought for a minute. How
did
one say “she sleeps” in Spanish? Then it came to me.
“Duerme,”
I replied.

Señora Friedman smiled.
“Muy bien.”

“May I, I mean …” I racked my brain.
“¿Puede … ir … al baño?”

“Puedo,”
my teacher corrected me. Then she nodded.
“Sí.”

I practically skipped down the hallway in my excitement. In the restroom, I stood by the sink, the late afternoon sunlight struggling through the frosted-glass window. There, I flipped open my phone. Sure enough, the text was from my mom.

EVERYTHING IS COMING UP ROSES — THEY’RE TAKING THE DRESS! LOVE, MOM

“Wooo-hooo!” I cheered, which bounced around the tile-lined bathroom like an echo chamber. I cringed. Hopefully, no one had heard me!

Just then the toilet flushed and someone stepped out of the last stall. Someone with long, straight, brown hair, which she flipped over her shoulder. It was Sabrina, one of Ashley’s henchwomen.

“I should have known it was you,” she said. “Weirdo.”

But I didn’t care. Petal Pushers was back in business. I wore a huge smile as I walked back to class.

I wanted to run and tell Aster and Rose. I wanted to call Aunt Lily and tell her that we didn’t need to sell the store after all. I imagined how gorgeous the dress would look at the parade. And then I had an evil thought:
Who’s
going to be looking at the bouquets when
that
dress is on the float?

I grinned, feeling just a tiny bit guilty when I thought of Hamilton.

At lunch, I told my friends the good news.

“That’s amazing!” said Amy.

“Good for you!” said Becky.

“Nice!” said Jessica.

Heather, as usual, had one thing on her mind — boys. “And now you can ask Hamilton out!” she concluded.

I held up a hand. “Give me a minute,” I begged. “My head is still spinning!”

I unwrapped my turkey sandwich with cranberry mayo and ate it quickly. But I was still hungry, so Becky and I headed to the lunch line to get chocolate-chip cookies. On my way, I bumped into Rose.

“Great news!” I told her excitedly. “Mom texted me — they took the rose dress!”

“That’s great,” said Rose distractedly.

I grabbed her arm. “It
is
great. So why aren’t you more excited?”

Rose shrugged.

“Hey, I didn’t know you had third period lunch today,” I told her. Sixth graders’ lunch schedule changed every day. “You should have sat with us.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” said Rose. “I’m fine.” She waved toward a table in the back. “I had friends to sit with.”

“Oh, good!” I said.

“How do you like being in middle school?” asked Becky. “Everything you dreamed it would be?” she added teasingly.

“Totes,” Rose said. “Catch you guys later!”

Becky gave me a funny look as Rose walked off. I shrugged.
Totes?
Where had
that
come from?

“So has the realtor found any more places for you to see?” Mom asked Dad that night after dinner.

We were all lounging in the living room, waiting for our houseguests to arrive. Debbie and Nicholas had landed, picked up their rental car, and were on their way to our house. Mom was still knitting that scarf for Aster. Rose and Aster were playing Crazy Eights. I was finishing up my reading for history class tomorrow. And Dad and Poppy were huddled over his phone,
as usual, harvesting beans and buying new farm equipment.

No reply.

“Honey, I said, did you talk to the realtor?” Mom’s voice rose a bit.

Dad looked up. “Yes, I spoke to him….”

Just then Poppy let out a piercing squeal and shoved the phone in Dad’s face. “Look — it’s a new kind of bean to plant — jelly beans!”

“Hey, look at that!” Dad said excitedly.

Mom threw a pillow at Dad. He and Poppy looked up at Mom, blinking slowly.

“
Jelly beans,
Mom!” Poppy explained.

Mom shook her head. “Forget it,” she said. “We’ll talk later, Ben. Go back to your silly game.” She grinned ruefully and returned to her knitting.

Soon after, we heard a car pull in to the driveway.

“They’re here!” Mom cheered, jumping off the couch so quickly she dropped Aster’s scarf on the floor.

I glanced over at Dad, expecting a sympathetic look. Nicholas was here. But he and Poppy didn’t look up from his phone.

Mom threw open the front door and gave Debbie a huge hug. Tall and big-boned, with thick chestnut hair, Debbie was the picture of good health. Mom said she ran ten miles a day.

“Deb-Deb!” Mom cried.

“Daisy Girl!”

My eyes widened in surprise. Goofy nicknames — how embarrassing!

“You look amazing!” Debbie gushed.

“No,
you
look amazing!” Mom insisted.

“Actually,” said a voice from behind them with a slight Texas twang, “you both look pretty amazing!”

“Nicholas!” Mom cried. “How big and handsome you are!”

“No,
you’re
big and handsome!” said Aster softly. I snickered.

I studied Nicholas as Mom gave him a hug. He was much taller than the last time I had seen him and his ears didn’t look quite so huge anymore. He had straight dark hair and green eyes. A camera bag was slung around his neck.

“You remember Nicholas,” Mom said to us. “And Nicholas, this is Ben, Rose, Aster, Del, and Poppy!”

Debbie gave us all big hugs and kisses and Nicholas shook everyone’s hands rather formally. Then Mom brewed some tea and she and Debbie settled in on the couch and, as Gramps would say, took a walk down memory lane. They laughed and reminisced about their college days. Unfortunately, most of their stories didn’t really make sense to anyone but them.

“Too much talking!” Poppy said crossly. “We’re harvesting!” That was Dad’s cue to scoop Poppy up over his shoulder and carry her upstairs to bed. Rose and Aster followed shortly after.

I glanced over at Nicholas, who sat on the couch, fiddling with his camera. “How was your trip?” I asked him politely.

“Actually,” he said, “there was an extended period of turbulence on the plane, so it wasn’t as enjoyable as I had anticipated.”

“Oh … okay,” I replied.

He nodded solemnly and returned to his camera.

“How is life in Texas?” Mom asked Debbie. “Tell me
everything
.”

Yikes. This was
my
cue to head upstairs. “Can I show you to your room?” I asked Nicholas.

“Good idea, thanks,” he said, yawning.

The steps creaked as we made our way upstairs.

“Old house,” I explained.

“Actually, if you grate some Ivory Soap and put it between the creaky boards the noise will go away,” he told me.

“Um, thanks,” I replied.

I opened the door to his room, and Nicholas surveyed his surroundings. Full-sized bed. Plenty of pillows. A bedside table and a lamp. What was he looking for? Finally, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good outlet-to-square-foot ratio,” he said.

“Um — great!” I replied.

“Do I have my own bathroom?” he asked.

“You’ll be sharing with your mom,” I told him. “It’s right across the hall.”

“Acceptable,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Okay, time for bed if I want to get my eight and a half hours,” he told me, starting to shut the door. Then he poked his head
out. “Del,” he said, “I’m really looking forward to going to school with you tomorrow morning. We can discuss what I should wear over breakfast. Good night,” he concluded, closing the door.

I stood there, blinking. Looking forward to going
where
with me tomorrow? This had to be a joke!