Free Too Many Blooms by Catherine R. Daly

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’sbirthday 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 onFairfield. 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 themhowever 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,