Too Many Blooms (10 page)

I woke up the next morning, my stomach already in knots. It felt like I’d barely slept. Probably because I hadn’t.

Tired as I’d been the night before, I had laid out my clothes before climbing into bed. I decided in honor of the wedding to go completely girly — a purple empirewaisted dress with teeny pink flowers, pink tights, and my cute but comfortable black Mary Janes for all the running around I knew I was going to do.

I yawned a jaw-cracking yawn on my way to the shower. We had a crazy day ahead of us.

After breakfast, Poppy led me upstairs to her room, where her pink party dress hung on the doorknob.

“I want to wear this dress just in case,” she said.

“Just in case of what?” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Del! In case Olivia needs a flower girl!”

“Oh,” I said. I knew she was going to be disappointed, but there was no time to argue with her. “Okay.”

“One more thing,” she said. “I want you to have this for luck.” She reached into her bathrobe pocket and stuck something small and plastic and fuzzy into my hand. It was a tiny troll doll with bright blue hair and a blue jewel in his — or was it her? — belly button.

I was touched. “Thank you, Poppy,” I said. I tucked the troll into my dress pocket and helped her get changed.

Once everyone was ready, we gathered on the porch as Mom locked the front door behind us. I smiled. Olivia had lucked out. It was a cool morning, but the sky was clear, not a cloud in sight.

We went straight to the store, where I did a lastminute bouquet count, Rose tallied up the corsages and boutonnieres, and Aster counted the centerpieces. All set. I checked for any wilted blooms, but everything looked as fresh as it had the night before. Dad started loading up the centerpieces into the delivery van.

Our plan was this: Mom would drop me off at Olivia’s house with the bouquets for her and the bridesmaids, and the corsages for her mom and grandmother. Then Mom and my sisters would head to the church with the rest of the corsages, the boutonnieres, pew decorations, and altar flowers. Once I was done at Olivia’s, I would meet Mom and my sisters at the church. After the wedding, we would go to the Country Club where Dad would be. We’d help him finish decorating and then go home to relax for a while before heading out to the second night of Rose’s play. Whew!

“Whoa!” Mom said as we pulled up the circular driveway in front of Olivia’s house.

Whoa
was right. The house was huge. Maybe even a mansion. It had tall columns and a wide lawn. Plus, those bushes that are trimmed into funny swirly shapes that look like soft-serve ice-cream cones.

“Good luck,” said Mom as I climbed out of the car. “Call if you need anything. See you at the church!”

Rose and Aster helped me get the big box of bouquets and corsages out of the back and carry them to the front steps. I waved good-bye to them as I stood on the marble
front steps and rang the doorbell. No answer. The door was unlocked, so I stepped inside. I could hear voices upstairs, so I walked up the large staircase, carefully balancing the box of flowers in my arms.

“Hello?” I called when I got to the landing.

A bridesmaid, her hair set in large rollers, poked her head out of a doorway. “The flowers are here!” she cried. Bedroom doors began to open and I saw bridesmaids, in various stages of bridesmaid dress. Some were getting their makeup done, others were having their hair styled. I went from room to room handing out bouquets to everyone. They all smiled happily and thanked me. “They’re gorgeous!” said one of the bridesmaids, taking a deep sniff. “Simply gorgeous!”

In the last room, there was Ashley, sitting at a mirror and looking pouty while the other bridesmaids got ready around her. I approached my nemesis nervously. I had resolved not to be anything but completely professional today, but I was sure that wasn’t going to be easy. I handed her the bouquet and she took it from me without a word.

“Looking good, Ashley,” I said.

“Go away, Delphinium,” she replied, turning back to the mirror to reapply lip gloss to her already well-slicked mouth. Maybe she was in a bad mood because she didn’t get to wear the sleek navy blue bridesmaid dress she had been bragging about, but instead was clad in the junior bridesmaid version — which had a very full skirt and goofy puffy sleeves.

“Has anyone seen the flower girl?” I asked.

One of the bridesmaids grimaced and pointed to a room down the hall. As I got closer, I could hear the shrieks. I knocked on the door. A harried-looking woman in a black sheath dress answered. Behind her, I could see a little girl on the floor in full temper-tantrum mode in her pretty pink flower-girl dress.

I smiled. “Here’s the flower girl’s basket!” I said cheerfully.

The girl’s mom rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Meltdown,” she said. “She stayed up too late at the rehearsal dinner. I’m sure she’ll settle down in time for the ceremony.”

“Good luck!” I replied.
You’ll need it!
I thought. I was glad Poppy was past the temper-tantrum stage.

Just then the maid of honor reappeared and escorted me to a large bedroom — and there was Olivia, sitting in front of a dressing table. I gasped. Her blonde hair was in a sleek French twist and the delicate headpiece we had made for her looked like a fairy crown. She stood up and her dress rustled around her. It was a strapless cream-colored silk gown with beading on the top. The skirt was full, draped delicately in gathers that looked like ripples in the water. Olivia was always pretty, but today she looked breathtakingly beautiful.

“You … you … you look like an enchanted princess!” I said.

“Oh, Del,” said Olivia. “Thank you!”

I handed her the bouquet, a simple arrangement of creamy white roses and cascading ivy. “It’s just perfect,” she told me, cradling it in her arms. Corinne, the wedding planner, who’d been fussing with Olivia’s train, nodded her approval.

Olivia’s mom and grandmother were in the room, too, so I handed them their corsages. The photographer was there and started snapping away as Olivia pinned the flowers on their dresses.

“One more thing,” I said. “Your ring bearer’s boutonniere.”

“Where is he?” asked Olivia.

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” her mother said worriedly.

The maid of honor left the room and reappeared, carrying the ring bearer, clad in a tiny black tuxedo. He whined and twisted his head around and tried to bite the collar. Did I mention that the ring bearer was named Louis Vuitton? He barked at me as I fastened his boutonniere. He didn’t like it one bit.

Finally, my work there was done. I walked down the large staircase, placed the extra bouquet in a box by the front door, and stepped outside. As I closed the door behind me, I heard a clip-clopping sound.
That’s weird,
I thought.
It sounds like a horse.
And sure enough, a horse and carriage pulled up in front of the house. The bridesmaids all spilled out of the house, laughing and chattering away. The photographer was right behind them.

“While we’re waiting for the bride to come downstairs, let’s take some photos of you girls with the carriage!” suggested the photographer. The bridesmaids laughed as they
clustered around the big white horse. The redheaded bridesmaid reached up to stroke his velvety nose.

Just then the horse, who apparently had not had his breakfast that morning, leaned over and took a big bite out of her bouquet. Maybe it was the strawberries that got his interest.

“Help! Help!” she cried. She yanked on the bouquet and ended up with a handful of slobbery half-eaten flowers. She looked like she was going to cry.

The horse, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself. The photographer snapped a quick succession of photos of the horse, a bright pink rose hanging out of his mouth like a cigar.

“Where is the wedding planner?” cried the maid of honor. “We have an emergency!”

“Nothing to worry about,” I told her. I ran inside, reached into the box, and pulled out the extra bouquet.
Just wait till I tell my family,
I thought proudly.

Soon, Olivia came out of the house, waving to her bridesmaids like she was royalty. But I couldn’t be annoyed at her — it
was
her special day. Everyone cheered. The photographer began positioning her and her bridesmaids
in front of the swirly-looking bushes. I checked my watch. It was about half an hour till wedding time, so I decided to head over to the church. I waved good-bye to everyone and walked the ten blocks in a quick trot.

From down the block I could see guests streaming into the church. I wove through the crowd, climbed the stairs, and walked through the big wooden doors. I stood in the vestibule, watching the tuxedoed ushers showing people to their seats — bride’s side on the left, groom’s side on the right.

I smiled. My family had done an amazing job. The church looked so beautiful it could have been on a movie set. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, leaving pools of rainbow light on the marble floor. Long swathes of white tulle ran down the center aisles, wrapped with ivy. Small nosegays of white and pink roses hung from each pew. The pink, purple, and off-white displays on the altar were big, but natural looking. Mom had somehow made them look like the world’s largest handpicked bouquets.

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned around. It was Mom. Aster and Rose stood beside her.
“What do you think?” Mom asked. She looked a little stressed.

“It’s perfect,” I assured her.

She smiled at me nervously. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “It’s really happening!”

“I know,” I said. “All that hard work and here we are!”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, Aster, Rose, and I are going to get the runner ready,” said Mom, referring to the white fabric that would go down the aisle for the wedding party to walk on. “Are you okay back here with Corinne just in case anything goes wrong?”

“Fine,” I said. “But where’s Poppy?”

Aster pointed to the corner of the vestibule.

Rose shrugged. “She’s waiting for Olivia, just in case she needs her.”

“Poor Poppy,” I said. “She’s going to be so disappointed.”

I found my littlest sister standing in the corner by one of the side doors, looking serious.

“Poppy,” I said gently. “I already gave the flower girl her basket of rose petals. So you’re probably not going to be able to walk down the aisle today.”

Poppy stuck out her lower lip. “Maybe she’ll need me,” she said.

I sighed. Talk about stubborn!

Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d inherited that trait from Aunt Lily.

I heard the clop-clopping of horse hooves and poked my head outside. Olivia, her dad, and Louis Vuitton had arrived, Louis looking dashing in his little doggie tux as he sat on Olivia’s ivory lap. Three limos full of bridesmaids were there, too. The guests were all seated. The groom and the minister were waiting by the altar. It was almost time to begin.

The bridesmaids began to file inside and fill the vestibule, whispering to one another excitedly. Corinne arranged them in order, giving last-minute instructions. The runner was rolled out. The music began and a hush fell over the guests. The first bridesmaid gave a nervous grin over her shoulder and set off down the aisle. I did a quick head count. Someone was missing. Where was the flower girl?

“No! No! No!” I heard a child shrieking.

I ran to the front door. The flower girl’s mom was
trying to drag her up the church steps and the little girl was pitching a fit. “I want to go home!” she hollered.

Corinne was right behind me. She grabbed my arm, a panicked look in her eyes. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

I turned to the little girl’s mother. “Do you think she’ll do it?” I asked.

“I’m afraid she’ll scream the whole way down the aisle if I force her,” she said with a sigh. “But I hate to disappoint Olivia.”

“I’ve got it covered,” I told her. “Don’t worry. I just need to borrow your daughter’s headpiece and basket.”

The woman gratefully handed everything over.

I walked back inside to where Poppy stood in the corner. I had a big grin on my face. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You still want to be a flower girl?” I asked her.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

I placed the headpiece on her head and adjusted it. I handed her the basket. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

“Now you go down the aisle right after the junior
bridesmaid, and right in front of the maid of honor,” I told her. “You need to walk with the dog
and
drop the petals on the way. And then you sit down in front. On the left. That’s
this
hand.”

She nodded solemnly. “On the left,” she repeated, holding out the correct hand. Then she beamed at me. “I’m going to be a flower girl!” she said. “I knew it!”

While Corinne did some last-minute adjusting of Olivia’s train, I took Poppy’s hand and led her to her place in line. I found the maid of honor. But where was Ashley? I asked one of the bridesmaids if she had seen her.

“She said she went to check her lip gloss,” she told me distractedly.
Uh-oh.
It was nearly time for Ashley to go down the aisle. Where was she?

As I was looking around, I spotted the maid of honor holding Louis Vuitton.

“Oh, great! I need the ring bearer,” I said to her.

“Here,” she said happily, handing him over. I placed the little dog on the floor, next to Poppy. He looked up at me, walked over to a pillar, and raised his leg.

“Louis Vuitton!” I cried. I raced forward, scooped him up, and took him outside. That was a close one!

I came back inside just in time to see Ashley come sauntering back. The bridesmaid in front of her had just taken off down the aisle. “It’s almost your turn!” I said.

“Calm down, Delphinium,” she said coldly. “I’m fine. I was just in the bathroom.”

She stood in the doorway, tossing back her hair. Poppy stood behind her, her mouth open in a little “o” of surprise.

Because Ashley’s puffy skirt was firmly tucked into the back of her underwear.

Ashley Edwards, my arch-nemesis, was about to completely humiliate herself in front of hundreds of her family members, friends, and neighbors!