Page 42 of Wildest Dreams

At first, all I see is an arrangement of long-stem red roses so massive that it completely obscures the person carrying it.

“What in the world?”

A bright face with blonde hair and big brown puppy dog eyes pops out from around the flowers. It’s Rileigh Briddell. I recognize her from dance lessons when we were little, though she’s several years younger than me.

“Hi, Kendall!”

“Oh hey, Rileigh. What is this?”

“I’m working at Petal Place now. These,” she says, carefully putting the flowers on Patsy’s desk, “are from someone with very deep pockets.”

“I can see that.” She hands me a card, and I know it’s from Pierre without opening it. I stare at the roses. There must be three dozen in the massive white vase.

“Can you hold the door open while I get the rest?” Rileigh asks.

“The rest? There’s more?”

She laughed. “Buckle up, buttercup. He bought out the store. If anyone in Magnolia Row wants roses for the next few weeks, they’re s.o.l.”

I hold the door, dumbfounded, as Rileigh walks back to the hot pink flower van. She gets another arrangement out and brings it in, then another, and another, and another until the van is finally empty. There are so many flowers that most of the arrangements end up on the floor. There’s barely enough room to walk in here.

It’s all I can do not to cry. He remembered the roses from the picture of me in front of my parents’ house. The smell takes me back twenty years, like I told him it does every time.

Rileigh puts her hands on her hips, out of breath from hustling to get all the arrangements in.

“So, is it true?” she asks with a huge smile on her face. Her skin is so tan that it makes her teeth look bright white.

Immediately, I’m snapped back to the present. Here we go.

“Is what true?”

“Oh, please. Is it true about you and Pierre Chatham?”

“Um, I don’t really know how to answer that.”

“These are from him, huh?”

“I think so.”

“Good for you, girl. Whitney’s a real bitch. Nothing like attention from a movie star to get Tucker crawling back to you.”

“I don’t want Tucker to crawl anywhere, especially not back to me.”

She gives me a look that sayssure you don’t.

“Well,” she says, “Enjoy these. They’re beautiful.”

“Yes, thank you,” I say. She starts to leave. “Rileigh?”

She stops and turns back to me.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’m trying to keep this…this…whatever it is quiet.”

She nods and walks out the door, leaving me alone with what feels like a thousand roses. At least it smells nice in here.

What am I supposed to do with these? I shake my head, overwhelmed, then can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of someone sending me every flower in town.

Who does that?

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