Born to Be Wild Read Online Free

another angle. “I’m going with an all-white theme for Betsy Endicott’s wedding.” Lady Ashford, her mother, would never approve—naturally—of an all-white theme, but her mother wasn’t around. Mr. Friedrichs didn’t approve of all-white, either, but going with the same old mixed-color bouquets seemed terribly boring.
    “Very well,” Mr. Friedrichs said, flipping open his calendar and studying his notes. “I’ll be here early Saturday morning to personally supervise the arrangement of all the flowers.”
    “The interior designer will be here as well,” Lauren said. “She has yards and yards of white satin ribbon and lace for the chairs—”
    “Ms. Templeton and I have already coordinated our efforts. Naturally, it will be much easier with both the wedding and reception held here in your home. We won’t have the logistical difficulties that can sometimes occur when we divide our efforts between a church and a reception room.” Mr. Friedrichs moved one of the anthurium stems about a quarter of an inch in the vase. “You can trust me implicitly, Miss Remington. Betsy Endicott’s wedding will be perfect.”
    He might be a tad stiff, Lauren thought, but she’d never hire anyone but Friedrichs of Palm Beach to do the flowers. He was persnickety, but his tastes were impeccable and his work habits decisive and prompt. Nothing could ever go wrong using someone like Mr. Friedrichs.
    Of course, she’d also felt that way about Henri.
    She quickly gave Mr. Friedrichs the once-over. Thank goodness—for his sake and hers—he didn’t look like heart-attack material. Not only that, but she imagined a thorough and precise man like Mr. Friedrichs would have an operating procedure for his employees to follow should he suddenly expire. He was not a man to leave anything to chance.
    She looked at her watch. One-fifteen. Max Wilde should be arriving within half an hour... she hoped. If he was late for their appointment, she’d worry from now until Saturday that the food for the reception would be a bust.
    As she walked Mr. Friedrichs to the door, he offered more assurances that there wouldn’t be a single wilted flower in sight, but it wasn’t wilted flowers that worried her. Wilted lettuce and barbecue sauce were uppermost on her mind.
    “Excuse me, Miss Remington.”
    “Yes, Charles,” she said, closing the door as Mr. Friedrichs climbed into his Mercedes.
    “ Lady Ashford is on the phone.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “Would you like me to tell her you’re out?”
    Charles knew her feelings all too well, bless his heart, but she hadn’t talked with her mother in well over a week, and even though their conversations were usually one-sided, she loved her mother dearly and enjoyed hearing her voice.
    She retreated to her conservatory, a homey place brimming with orchids, palms, and ferns. This was the place where she’d hoped to read to her children, where she’d planned to rock them to sleep at night. Much to her dismay, the only things she’d nurtured in this room were the tropical plants she loved.
    Thoughts of children and family had been on her mind a lot in the past few months, ever since she’d received the wonderful news that her sister-in-law Samantha was going to have twins. Her brother Jack had waited a long time to get married, and when he did, he went completely against convention and married someone Mother claimed was totally wrong for him. But Jack had never been happier.
    Lauren wished she’d gone against convention a few times. She definitely wished she’d ignored her mother’s dictates. If she had, maybe she’d be married to the most wonderful man in the world by now. Maybe she’d have a house full of children to love. She laughed to herself. Celeste, Lady Ashford, was not completely to blame for Lauren’s poor choices in men, even though she’d shoved Chip, Leland, and even Peter in front of her daughter’s eyes. No, Lauren knew she had to take responsibility for her own actions—the