Kathryn Littlewood - HarperCollins Children's Books

kathryn littlewood
Rose and Sage found Florence the Florist asleep in a
comfy chair in a corner. Everyone speculated about
her exact age, but the consensus in Calamity Falls was
that she couldn’t be younger than ninety.
Her store looked more like a living room than a
floral shop—yellow sunlight splashed through the
shutters onto a little sofa, and a fat tabby cat lay splayed
out near a dusty fireplace. A collection of vases near
the window were filled with every conceivable kind of
flower, and a dozen baskets hung from the ceiling with
leafy green vines spilling out of them.
Rose brushed a curtain of ivy away from her face
and cleared her throat.
Florence slowly opened her eyes. “Who is that?”
“It’s Rosemary Bliss,” Rose said.
“Oh, I see.” Florence grumbled as if she were
annoyed at the prospect of having a customer.
“What . . . can . . . I . . . get for you?” she asked, rising
and panting as she shuffled toward the vases below
the window.
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