22 April, 1941 - Beverly Hills, California
“Merci, Danielle,” the young woman said as Danielle placed an armload of fragrant white lilies next to the blush pink roses and purple hydrangeas she had already chosen. “You always choose my best flowers.”
Danielle smiled at her friend, the owner of the Flower Pot in Beverly Hills. “And you always have the best flowers in town, Mimi.”
“Mais oui, my brother sent some potted gardenias from the farm, too. They’re heavy with buds, perfect for your boudoir. Did you see them? They’re in the front of the shop.”
Danielle meandered through a brilliant maze of cut flowers, charming topiaries, and magnificent floral arrangements. The scents that swirled through the air lifted her spirits. She drank in the aromas wafting through the air, closing her eyes
