in a fit of laughter. âRosie has to wear a dress?!â
Max knew his sister well. She was not a big fan of dresses. To be a detective, Rosie had to crawl on the ground and hide in all sorts of places. Those were not good activities for a dress.
âMax, stop laughing and get off the floor!â Mrs. Anderson said as she returned to the kitchen. âRosie is going to be a beautiful flower girl. She only has to wear a dress for one day, and it will make Greta very happy.â
Rosie felt dizzy. She fell back on the couch and covered her face with her hands.
âOh, no,â she thought. âWhat have I gotten myself into?â
Chapter Two
It was storming on the day that Rosie and her mom planned to meet Greta. When they arrived at the mall, the place was packed. Rosie remembered one other time when it had been this crowded. It was the day teen pop star Gaby Snow was there to sign autographs. As one of Gabyâs biggest fans, Rosie waited in line for two hours to meet her, with no bathroom breaks!
Rosie wished she were seeing Gaby today instead of buying a dress. As she and her mom walked through the mall, Rosie dragged her rain boots as if they were filled with slushy mush.
âThink of it as detective work,â her mom said, walking briskly. âYouâre on the search for the perfect flower girl dress.â
Rosie scowled. Dress shopping was not detective work; it was torture!
âRosie, we have to hurry. We donât want to keep the other flower girls waiting.â
Rosie froze right in her tracks. âWhat?â she asked. âI didnât know there were other flower girls.â
âYes, there are two,â her mom said, grabbing Rosieâs hand to pull her along. âThey are from out of town, and theyâre here today to help pick out the flower girl dress. Isnât that great?â
âWhatâs so great about it?â Rosie said under her breath. She didnât like surprises. And now she was afraid there might be more.
âThis must be it,â said Mrs. Anderson, stopping in front of Bettinaâs Boutique.
Rosieâs mouth dropped open. It looked like someone had set off a pink bomb inside the store. There were pink walls, pink decorations, pink carpet, and, of course, pink dresses everywhere. Rosie was planning her escape when a saleswoman with curly, carrot-colored hair approached them.
âHello, ladies. Iâm Bettina. How can I help you?â The saleswomanâs voice squeaked with glee.
âWeâre meeting Greta Goodwin to pick out a flower girl dress,â Rosieâs mother replied, looking around the store for Greta.
âShe isnât here yet, but this young lady is waiting for her too.â
Bettina motioned across the room. Sitting in a lounge chair was a girl with big, brown eyes and two long, blond braids. In her lap Rosie could see a huge, fluffy purple ball of yarn. The girl was busy knitting.
Rosieâs mom approached the girl, dragging Rosie behind her.
âHello, Iâm Mrs. Anderson, and this is my daughter, Rosie. Are you in Greta Goodwinâs wedding too?â
âIâm Iris,â the girl replied. âIâm one of Gretaâs flower girls. Greta is from Philadelphia, just like me. She was my babysitter before she went to college.â
Mrs. Anderson grinned. âYou and Rosie have a lot in common. What are you knitting? Itâs beautiful, donât you think, Rosie?â
Rosie knew her mom was trying to get her to talk to Iris. Instead of answering, she responded with a smile, the kind where the sides of the mouth go up and down really fast.
Iris didnât seem to notice. âThanks,â she said. âItâs a scarf.â
Iris got up to show off her knitting. Rosie wasnât interested in the scarf, but something else caught her eye.
Iris was wearing a T-shirt with sequins and a picture of Gaby Snow! âI like your shirt,â Rosie blurted