“Sure it is. You’re the bride, and I’m the hostess who just had a baby not so long ago.”
“Are you still working that angle?”
“Until it runs through the last fume of gasoline.”
Emma chuckled. Surrounded in the safety net of her friends, she felt a little ungrateful at even the slightest trace of remorse in the decision she and Jackson had made. The Tanglewood and all of its accoutrements spelled security and love and professional fulfillment. As she stood at the microwave next to Sherilyn, waiting for the last Pop! from the bag of kettle corn, Emma basked in the sheer delight of marrying Jackson and settling into life with him and the hotel and everything that came with it.
“It’s going to be a good life!” she exclaimed to Sherilyn.
When she plucked the steaming popcorn bag from the microwave and shook it, Henry jumped up from a deep sleep and trotted into the kitchen to check it out.
“Em, it already is a good life,” Sherilyn told her. “It can only go up toward great from here!”
Giggling, Emma teased, “Grrrrr-eat! You sound like Tony the Tiger.”
“Hey. I like Tony. He was my first boyfriend, you know.”
“I remember the stories. And that ratty old stuffed tiger you used to keep on your bed.”
“This, from the girl who fell in love with Race Bannon,” Sherilyn returned as they headed into the living room to join the others, Henry close at their heels.
“Who’s Race Bannon?” Pearl asked.
“The hot guy from Jonny Quest.”
“Dude. You just called a cartoon guy hot,” Fee said.
“Hey, Race was hot,” Emma defended, plopping down between Audrey and Norma on the sofa. “An ex-secret agent with muscular arms and white-blond hair . . . bodyguard and friend to Dr. Benton Quest, the greatest scientific mind in the world . . . tutor to Jonny and his friend Hadji . . . and always saving their little dog Bandit at the last possible moment . . .”
“Are you people serious?” Hildie called out, her eyes still closed, not moving a muscle. “These are cartoon guys you’re talking about?”
They all broke up laughing.
“Oh sure,” Emma said, dipping into the bag of popcorn. “Laugh it up, haters. But Race is still the coolest guy on the Cartoon Network.”
“Norma, be sure to warn your brother what he’s up against, will you?” Sherilyn joked. “Race is a pretty tough act to follow.”
“Yeah,” Emma cracked dryly. “Not like Tony the Tiger.”
“Oh, hush!”
“From the cereal?” Hildie asked as she pushed her way upright. “Really?”
“Well, who do you crush on?” Emma asked her with a grin. “Justin Bieber? All he can do is sing. He’s not out there saving the world and making it a better place, like Race.”
“Justin Bieber?” Hildie rejected. “Not likely.”
“Who, then?” Kat asked her. “Whose picture will go up on your wall? Nick Jonas? Zac Efron?”
“Please.”
“Hildie likes a higher class of heartthrob,” Fee remarked.
“Like who?” Emma asked.
“Johnny Depp.”
“Ooh, Fee! The same as you,” Emma exclaimed. Turning to the others with a smile, she added, “Fee ah-dooores Johnny Depp.”
“You do?” Hildie asked her, and Fee shrugged one shoulder and gave a nod.
“No one these days is as handsome as Robert Redford in The Way We Were,” Norma told them with a swoon.
“Yeah, but if we’re going back in the day,” Audrey chimed in, “I think Humphrey Bogart was The Man.”
“I like Clooney,” Kat added as she plucked a handful of popcorn out of Emma’s bag. “George is dreamy.”
“I know who Sherilyn’s crush is,” Emma teased, and she sang his name. “Jon Bon Jo-vi.”
“Oooh, yeah,” Norma said, nodding enthusiastically.
“Norma! You surprise me,” Emma said with a giggle.
“Jon transcends generations, diversity, and tastes,” Sherilyn pointed out as she stole a handful of popcorn. “He’s been with the same woman for, like, thirty years, he’s a philanthropist, and he’s a gifted musician.”
“And he looks good in jeans,” Emma cracked.
“Well, there’s that,” Audrey quipped.
“You know who I think is cute,” Pearl piped up. “Joel Osteen.”
Silence boomed as the women exchanged curious glances.
“You mean . . . the television preacher?” Kat exclaimed.
“Yeah. I mean, he has such a nice smile.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to put Jon Bon Jovi and Joel Osteen in the same conversation,” Fee pointed out. “It’s in the Book of Isaiah somewhere.”
“Who’s your current-day Race Bannon, Emma?” Kat asked.
Emma pulled a very thoughtful face for a moment before singing, “Jack-son.”
Groans, moans, and laughter all around inspired Henry to bark a few times to join in the fun, and the hum of idle chatter and the happy joking of Emma’s friends morphed into a sweet melody for her.
These people, she thought, and she grinned and munched on popcorn as she looked around at them. They’re music to my ears.
Interesting Wedding Trivia
Although there is no law mandating that a bride must
take the last name of her groom, over 70 percent of
Americans polled think that she should.
In many Eastern cultures, a white wedding dress is not
worn because the color symbolizes mourning and grief.
The wedding ring is placed on the third finger of
the left hand because ancient cultures believed that the
vein in that finger leads directly to the heart.
The tradition of tossing rose petals at the bride’s feet
was derived from the intent of laying out a path
toward a beautiful and prosperous future.
The old adage “Three times a bridesmaid, never a
bride” dates back as far as the sixteenth century. It was
believed that if an unmarried woman had been a
bridesmaid three times, she was doomed to remain single.
However, if she served as a bridesmaid a seventh time,
the spell was broken and she would at last be married.
In Roman times, a small bun was broken above the
bride’s head at the end of the wedding ceremony,
and during the Middle Ages the bride and groom would
kiss over small cakes.
These traditions led to today’s wedding essential:
the wedding cake.
Note: Facts found at http://facts.randomhistory.com/interesting-
facts-about-weddings.html
20
Emma’s eyes fluttered open, burning as the morning sun poked at them from outside the window. She blinked several times to bring Sherilyn into focus on the other side of the bed. Instead, however, a large white blob looked back at her through a mop of unkempt hair.
“Morning, Henry,” she muttered, and the dog panted at her. “Oh, man, Henry, did you ever hear of mouthwash?”
She turned and buried her face in her pillow and, as she did, something jingled. She jerked her head upright at the sound. Henry flinched at the same time, and the two of them lay there, face to face, eye to eye.
“What was that?” she asked him, but when she rolled over, the jingle sounded again, this time with the intensity of a clamoring alarm.
Clumps of silver sleigh bells were strapped to both of her ankles with elastic bands. As she moved, they clanked out a ballyhoo that sent Henry flying from the bed, out the door, and down the stairs.
Emma stood up and peered at herself in the mirror. In addition to the sound effects fastened around her ankles, she’d been wrapped in pink streamers and a bright feather boa, her messy hair held back by the previous night’s plastic rhinestone tiara. She glared at her reflection for a closer look and discovered that block
letters spelled out the word BRIDE in purple glitter on her forehead.
“Very funny, ladies,” she called as she tromped down the hall to the stairs.
A stream of muffled giggles was the only reply.
“I scared the poor dog half to death, and that’s on your heads,” she continued as she descended the stairs. And through the hall she sang dry, one-syllable exclamations that synched with each jingling step. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Sherilyn met her at the end of the hallway and handed her a steaming pink mug with a large purple flower on the side.
“English breakfast tea,” she declared. “Cream, one packet of sweetener.”
“Thank you,” Emma replied as she took the mug. “Now help get me out of all of this.”
“No,” Kat said from the kitchen. “You have to wear it through breakfast.”
“Well, at least let’s tidy her up,” Audrey suggested as she moved around behind Emma. “The loose tails of these streamers make her look like a mummy queen coming unraveled.”
A sudden flash of light blinded her, and Emma blinked away the residual spots to find Sherilyn standing in front of her, camera phone in hand.
“Really?” Emma grumbled as she passed her by, Audrey scurrying after her, tearing off the ends of the crinkly pink streamers.
“For posterity,” Sherilyn said with a grin. “Now what would you like for breakfast? There’s a buffet fit for a bride on the counter.”
Emma perked up as she inspected the various plates and bowls. She grabbed a large strawberry and popped it into her mouth. “Where are Fee and Hildie?”
“They had to go,” Sherilyn told her. “Hildie has a soccer game today.”
“Wow.” Emma scratched her head beneath the tiara, making the tiara bounce up and down. “Those two are like peas in a pod, aren’t they?”
She moved into the kitchen to check out the omelets Pearl and Kat turned out in a yummy assembly line. Norma rushed by with oven mitts on both hands and pulled a pan of fragrant cinnamon rolls from the oven.
“Oh, hey,” Sherilyn said, tugging on Emma’s arm. “Come sit down. I want to show you something.”
Emma squeezed into the dining chair angled into the corner and folded one leg underneath her. Sherilyn scuffed another chair closer and held out her hand. A double ring box sat open on her palm, and Emma’s heart began to race as she gazed at the familiar wedding bands.
“I picked them up for Jackson. Andy’s going to take them to him, but I thought you might like to have a look first.”
Emma smiled at her friend. “You scared us half to death, you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was helping.”
Emma snickered, then turned her attention to the rings. “They’re beautiful though, aren’t they?” Emma lifted Jackson’s ring from the slot in the velvet box and examined the engraving on the inside of the band.
“I am my beloved’s . . .”
Sherilyn plucked Emma’s thin diamond band from the box and squinted.
“. . . and my beloved is mine.”
“I love that verse of Scripture.” Norma had moved into the living room with a plate of food and sank down on the sofa. “Song of Solomon, right?”
Emma nodded, joining her on the sofa to show her the rings. “Jackson and I took that couples class at Miguel’s church a while back. It was a study on purity and the sanctity of marriage. When we read that chapter, it just resonated for both of us.”
Norma ruffled Emma’s hair, then straightened the tiara on Emma’s head as she grinned. Grabbing the end of the boa around Emma’s neck, Norma wrapped it around herself so that it cloaked them both.
“I am so happy you’ve fallen in love with Jack,” she said softly, and Emma dropped her head to Norma’s shoulder. “You’ve changed him.”
“Have I?”
“He’s softer somehow, more in touch with his emotional side. And, of course, he’s found his way back to God. That’s all because of you, Emma.”
“No, it’s not,” she said on a sigh. “And, you know, if I changed him, Norma, he changed me right back.”
Norma squeezed her shoulder. “That’s the way love works.”
Jackson had no plans to work on Saturday morning. In fact, he’d intended to just stop by his office for a few minutes to pick up his laptop after leaving it behind on Friday night, but the avalanche of paperwork beckoning his attention closed in on his sense of time. Two hours after he’d arrived, he was still sitting at his desk.
“Mr. Drake? I wasn’t expecting you today.”
He looked up to find Lauren standing in the doorway in tight jeans torn at the knee and a too-tight pink tank top over an even tighter black one. A large patch of exposed stomach poked out from beneath them, this time adorned by a full belly chain connected to her navel by a pierced ring.
“Yeah. You either,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”
“Just as I was leaving yesterday, I got a call from Susannah Littlefield,” she told him.
“Oh!”
“She’s flying back to Atlanta today, and she’s planning to come back to work on Monday. I wanted to make sure to clear things up so her desk is ready.”
“Lauren,” Jackson said, and his chair creaked as he leaned back into it. “Will you come in a minute? Sit down.”
She ran a hand through her spikey hair and adjusted her butterfly barrette as she tentatively lowered herself into the chair across from him.
“What’s your situation, Lauren?”
“My . . . situation?”
“Yes. Are you working as a temp for a reason? Are you looking for a permanent job?”
“I haven’t been,” she answered. “I kind of liked the flexibility of moving from one place to another.”
“I see.” Disappointment simmered inside him, and Jackson sighed. “A bit of a free spirit, then.”
“Until I came here, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I like it here, Mr. Drake.”
“Jackson.”
“The people are so nice, and I enjoy the work. It’s something different all the time.”
Jackson snickered. “And that’s a good thing, huh, Lauren?”
She smiled at him and nodded. “For me, it is.”
“Susannah Littlefield has been with me for many years,” he explained. “Even before I bought the hotel. I don’t know how to get along without her. But she plans to retire later this year, and I hope you might be interested in taking her place.”
She looked stunned, a bit like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
“Really?”
“Really. Is that something that interests you?”
She nodded, but no sound emerged from her open mouth. He could so clearly see the wheels turning in her head that he thought he almost heard the grind.
“That’s a yes?”
She continued to nod, and then exclaimed, “Yes!”
“All right, then. Once Susannah gets back, I’d like to discuss it with her first. If she feels like it’s a good fit as well, I’ll contact the agency and talk to them about how to proceed. Then Susannah can begin training you, and you can stay on and work with her until she retires. How does that sound?”
Lauren stood up, looking down at him. “Thank you, Jackson.”
“You’re welcome.”
He stood up as well, and then jumped a little when Lauren rounded his desk and plowed into him with a clumsy hug. “Really, I’m so happy to hear that you felt it too. The fit, I mean.”
“Oh. Well. Good.”
Just as he pulled back from her, Lauren placed her hand on his back—a little too low for comfort, in fact—and she . . . squeezed.
Looking up into his eyes with a strange and sultry smile, she cooed, “I just knew I wasn’t imagining it, Jackson.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. It took about ten or twelve full seconds before it began to sink in, but then Jackson pushed away from the girl, fumbling as he quickly re
moved her hands from around his waist.
“Okay. Sit down again. Right now, over there. Sit down.”
She shrugged, returned to the chair on the other side of the desk, and grinned at him as she wriggled down into it.
“Lauren.”
He almost wanted to laugh, but he knew enough to realize how wildly inappropriate laughter would be in a situation like the one in which he was now stuck. He swallowed and took in a sharp breath of preparation.
“Lauren,” he repeated.
“Yes, Jackson?”
“The fit I mentioned was purely professional. Do you understand what I mean?”
She thought it over and finally replied, “No. I don’t think so.”
“You realize I’m engaged to be married in a week, right?”
“Well. Yes. But when you said—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Not at all. I meant that I thought you might fit here as my assistant, Lauren. Nothing more.”
Again, she mulled over his words before responding. “Oh.”
“So in light of what just happened, I think we can look at this as your last day here.”
“What? Jackson, why?” she asked, fiddling with the chain around her stomach.
He sighed. “I think we both know why, but let me be clear. I’m flattered . . . and to be honest, a little surprised . . . but I can’t hire someone who has feelings about anything other than doing a good job for me and for the hotel. Do you understand?”
“I . . . suppose . . .”
“So, thank you. And good-bye, Lauren.”
“Good-bye?”
“Yes. Right now. Good-bye.”
The girl stood up like a child who had just been sent to her room. She looked back at him from the doorway, and Jackson took care to keep his facial expression frozen and stern. But the instant after she’d grabbed her purse and marched out of the office, Jackson snickered unceremoniously.
“I just can not catch a break with assistants,” he muttered, shaking his head before he laughed right out loud.
It took two full shelves to house all of Emma’s prized recipes in their respective wooden boxes, labeled lovingly with a steady hand and a small bottle of white paint.
Always the Baker, Finally the Bride Page 21