Bride Quartet Collection

by Nora Roberts

“Just the way I like it.”

  He got her mincemeat pie out of the back, and the wrapped box. Before they reached the door, it swung open.

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” Del kissed Kay on the cheek, eyed the box under Mal’s arm. “Ah, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t.”

  “The pie looks great. Did you make it, Ma K?”

  “I did. If Maureen’s in the kitchen, I’ll take it back to her.”

  “We’ve got the women in the kitchen where they belong.” He winked. “The men are in the media room watching the game as per Brown family tradition. Let me take you back, get you a drink.”

  “This is the nicest house in Greenwich,” Kay stated.“I thought so the first time I saw it, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Thank you. It means a lot to us.”

  “It ought to. It’s got history. I worked some parties here in your grandmother’s day, and later on when your mother had them. I liked your mother’s better.”

  Del laughed as he laid a hand on the small of Kay’s back to guide her through. “Our Grandmother Brown was a tyrant.”

  The scents streamed out of the kitchen, along with female voices. Malcolm picked Parker’s out, and a knot he hadn’t known was tied in his belly loosened.

  She sat at the work bar, snapping beans. He tried to think of the last time he’d seen anyone snapping beans—then lost the thought as she glanced over, met his eyes.

  Jesus, he’d missed her, to the point of pain. He wanted to resent it, wanted to step back from it. But she smiled, slid off the stool.

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” She greeted his mother first, kissing her cheek as Del had. Then she brushed her lips lightly over his. The knot loosened again.

  Everyone started talking at once, but he barely heard them. Just static. Movement and color—somebody took the pie out of his hand. And he was caught, just trapped in the look of her, the shape, the sound.

  Del replaced the pie with a beer.“Let’s go be men before they put us to work. Because, believe me, they can and they will.”

  “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

  “Hesitate at your own risk. Still, you’d look so pretty in an apron.”

  “Blow me,” he said, and earned a quick cuff from his mother.

  “Mind your manners. I wouldn’t mind that apron. Half the fun of Thanksgiving is putting it together.”

  As Parker started to sit again, Malcolm took her arm. “Take five.”

  “I have an assignment,” she told him as he pulled her out of the kitchen.

  “The beans aren’t going anywhere.” He turned into the music room. “I got you something.”

  “Oh.That’s a nice surprise.”

  He handed her the box. “When a guy screws up, he’s gotta pay.”

  “I won’t argue, since I like presents. I see your mother won the suit battle.”

  “My mother always wins.”

  “It’s a nice suit.” She set the box on a small table, pulled the bow. “How’s business?”

  “Steady. I picked up a recondition job on a ’62 Caddy on a referral from Channing.”

  “That’s terrific.”

  He watched, unsurprised, as she carefully unfastened the paper. No ripping and shredding, not for Parker Brown. He imagined, as oddly enough his own mother did, she’d save the paper for some future mysterious purpose.

  “How about yours?”

  “We’re always busy around the holidays. Party events on top of weddings. And Mac’s wedding’s in two weeks. I can’t believe it. We’ll be jammed until after New Year’s, then ...”

  She trailed off when she saw the shoe box, then thoughtfully opened the lid.

  Her mouth dropped open. He doubted any other reaction could have been as satisfying.

  “Shoes? You bought me shoes? Oh, really fabulous shoes.” She took out one of the high, skinny-heeled pumps, holding it like a woman might hold a fragile gem.

  “You like shoes.”

  “Like is a soft, weak word for my feelings regarding shoes. Oh, these are gorgeous.Look at the way all those deep jewel tones flow together. And the texture.”

  She slipped off the heels she wore, slipped on the new ones. Then sat there admiring them. “How did you know my size?”

  “I’ve been in your closet.”

  She continued to sit, studying him. “I have to say, Malcolm, you astonish me.You bought me shoes.”

  “Don’t expect me to ever do it again. It was . . . grueling. I thought, I should just go get her some sexy underwear, but that seemed self-serving. It would’ve been a lot easier and less weird. You women are vicious in the shoe department.”

  “Well, I love them.” She rose, did what he thought of as a little runway walk. Pivoted. Smiled. “How do they look?”

  “I can’t take my eyes off your face. I really missed your face.”

  “Okay.” She breathed it out, then stepped to him.“You just flatten me,” she murmured, and moved into his arms. “I really missed yours, too.”

  “We need to be okay. It would really piss me off if my deal with Artie screwed us up.”

  “Asshole Artie isn’t going to screw anything up.”

  He drew back. “Asshole Artie?”

  “That’s what we call him around here.”

  He let out a half laugh.“I like it. I want to be with you, Parker.”

  “That’s good, because you are with me.”

  He rested his forehead on hers. “Listen I ...” He didn’t have the words, wasn’t sure of his moves. “Hell. Let’s just say you’re the first woman I’ve bought shoes for.” Again, he drew back, met her eyes. “And the last.”

  “It means a lot.” She laid her hands on his cheeks, kissed him. “So, we’ll take today to be grateful we’re okay.”

  THE WEEK BEFORE MAC’S WEDDING MEANT SALON APPOINTMENTS. Manicures, pedicures, facials. It meant logging those last-minute acceptances and regrets and adjusting the seating chart.

  It meant final fittings, opening gifts, updating the spreadsheet Parker had created for keeping track of the gift, the sender, the relationship of the sender to the bride or groom, and the mailing address for thank-you notes.

  It meant errands and phone calls, confirmations, final consults.

  When added to the business of planning and prepping for other events, it meant insanity.

  “Why did we think December was a good idea for this?” Mac demanded with a wild look in her eye. “We’re swamped, we’re crazed. We’re not going on the honeymoon until next month anyway, so why didn’t I take advantage of the slow time to get married? God, I’m getting married.Tomorrow.”

  “And it’s going to be perfect.” Parker said it with grim determination as she worked at her laptop. “Hah! The weather’s going to be perfect. Cold, light snow in the morning, one to two inches, and clear in the afternoon. Light winds and low thirties for the evening. Just what I wanted.”

  “Sometimes they say light snow, and we get dumped on. What if—”

  “We’re not going to get dumped on.” As if daring the weather gods, Parker bared her teeth. “We’re going to get a couple pretty, fluffy inches in the morning for a gorgeous December evening wedding. Go get ready for rehearsal.”

  “I’m afraid of rehearsal. My voice is going to squeak. I think I’m getting a zit right in the middle of my chin. I’m going to trip coming down the aisle. It’s okay if Carter trips. People expect it. But—”

  “Your voice is not going to squeak, you’re not going to get a zit, and you’re certainly not going to trip.” Parker thumbed out Tums. For herself, and for Mac. “Do I know what I’m doing?”

  “Yes, you do, but I’m—”

  “Trust me. It’s going to be perfect and beautiful and the happiest day of your life.”

  “I’m being a pain in the ass.”

  “No, honey, you’re being a bride. Now go take a nice, warm bath.You’ve got an hour.”

  “Carter isn’t nervous.” Mac narrowed her
eyes in a scowl. “I could hate him for that.”

  “Mackensie.” Parker turned from the computer. “I was in the kitchen this morning when Mrs. G made him sit down and eat some breakfast. He put maple syrup in his coffee.”

  “He did?” She threw up her arms in a cheer.“He is nervous. I feel better. I want him to be nervous, too, and I want his ears to blush the way they do, and I want . . . Since I’m the bride it can be all about what I want, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. So, I want to thank you for temporarily lifting my mother’s banishment.”

  “Mac—”

  “No, I mean it. Let me just vent this out, and it’ll be over.”

  “Okay.Vent away.”

  “It’s important she be here tomorrow, even though she’s a massive pain in my ass, and everyone else’s.”

  “She’s still your mother.”

  “Yeah, and that’s for better or worse, too. Anyhow, I know you’ve talked to her about it, and the rules of the road.”

  “It took one brief phone call. It’s nothing.”

  “One brief, unpleasant phone call.”

  Now Parker smiled. “Not for me. Did she give you grief over it?”

  “She tried. She failed. Her power is diminished in that area, which pisses her off.” Mac’s dimples fluttered. “I’m small enough to enjoy that.”

  “I’d say you’d be stupid if you didn’t.”

  “Good. So I’m not stupid.” On a breath, Mac folded her hands in her lap. “But I want her here because we’ve been through this enough to know you don’t want to look back on the biggest day of your life and have a single regret. And hell, since my father apparently can’t work the wedding into his busy schedule of parties and cruising the Ionian Sea, I should have one parent here.”

  “We know, even though it’s our job to supply them, a wedding isn’t just about the lights and the music and the show. It’s about the feelings.Your family’s going to be there, Mac.”

  “Yeah.” Mac reached out, gripped hands with Parker.“The one that counts.”

  “And more, Carter is going to be there, waiting for you, looking at you, promising you.”

  “Oh God, yeah. I’m so ready. Nervous, but so ready.”

  “Go take that bath, soak out the nerves.”

  “On it.” Mac got up, started out.“Parks? I love him so much it feels like there’s more inside me, a better me in there than there used to be. I’m not nervous about being married to him. I’m just nervous about, well, the show. Forgetting my lines or not hitting my cue.”

  “Leave all that to me. Just think about being married to Carter.”

  “That I can do.” She dashed back, caught Parker in a hug. “I love you so much, too.”

  As she hugged, Parker reached over for a tissue, put it in Mac’s hand. “Thanks. I’m not going to cry tomorrow, so I’m planning to cry a lot tonight.”

  “That’s a very good plan. Make sure to seal your mascara so it doesn’t run.”

  Twenty minutes later, Parker dashed downstairs to check with Laurel.

  And stopped as her breath caught.

  “Oh, Laurel.”

  “She’s demanding to be called Super-Laurel,” Del told Parker as he sat at the kitchen counter munching a cookie.

  “And who could blame her? She is Super-Laurel. It’s the most beautiful cake ever created.”

  “Not done yet,” Laurel mumbled, and continued to place sugar-paste flowers.

  “Carter’s is.” Del jerked a thumb toward the remodeled mudroom that now served as Laurel’s auxiliary kitchen.

  Parker went in, opened the cooler. “I love it! It’s even better than the sketch. The open book, the scene from As You Like It. I swear it looks like you could turn the page.”

  “Try it and die.” Laurel rolled her aching shoulders and glanced over as Parker came back. “Oh God, don’t cry.”

  “I’m following Mac’s plan.” She pulled tissues out of her pocket. “Cry tonight, stay dry tomorrow. I have gel masks for all of us chilling in the main fridge so we won’t be puffy tomorrow.”

  “Thank God,” Del said, “I was really worried I’d have puffy eyes.”

  “Take your cookie and go check on Carter,” Parker ordered. “And you can call or run over to Emma’s, tell her she’s not allowed to be late. Have Jack carry her over if necessary.”

  “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.”

  “I thought about letting you sneak into my room tonight,” Laurel said.“But you didn’t buy me a fabulous new pair of shoes.”

  “Mal’s going to pay for that, for screwing the curve for the rest of us.”

  When they were alone, Laurel glanced down at Parker’s feet. “They really are fabulous. Everything else okay?”

  “It’s fine. I got tomorrow’s forecast, and—”

  “I’m not talking about Mac’s wedding, which is a change from most conversations this week. I’m talking about you and Malcolm.”

  “That’s fine, too.” She opened the refrigerator for a bottle of water, then sighed when she turned back to see Laurel staring at her.“No, he hasn’t mentioned the fact that I told him I loved him, and neither have I. And no, he hasn’t reciprocated. I’m fine with that.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m trying to be fine with that, and mostly succeeding. Plus there’s too much to do to think about it.” She smoothed at the hair she’d coiled into a sleek twist for the rehearsal party. “We’re in a good place, and that’s ... fine. Don’t make me say fine again. Let’s just focus on Mac and Carter.”

  “Okay.Where is the blushing bride?”

  “Taking a bath to soothe her nerves. She needs to start getting dressed,” Parker realized as she checked her watch. “We’re going to start in—”

  “Parker, relax. We’re having the rehearsal dinner here.You can ease up on the timetable, at least a little. Does she know Linda’s not coming tonight?”

  “Yes.And I think she’s relieved.We talked about tomorrow, and she’s glad her mother’s coming to the wedding. So, tomorrow’s soon enough for Linda.”

  “What about—” Laurel broke off as Malcolm came in.“I wear a seven medium, just like Parker. Just in case.”

  “I only buy shoes for women I’m sleeping with.” He grabbed a cookie from the plate on the counter. “If I slept with you, Del would get pissed off.”

  “He’s so narrow-minded.”

  “Did you—”

  “Picked up and delivered to Carter’s, as instructed.”

  The weight on Parker’s shoulder slipped off. “Okay. Thank you. Thank you.” She took his face, kissed him.

  “He’s here.” Laurel stepped away from the cake. “You pulled it off.”

  With a hand on her hip, Parker angled into a pose. “You doubted me?”

  “I’m so ashamed. You can be Super-Parker. I need to go change my shoes, which unfortunately aren’t those,” she said with another envious glance at Parker’s feet.“Freshen my makeup, and so on. I’ll get Mac moving if she’s not.You did good, Parker.” She grabbed Parker, kissed her hard on the mouth.

  “Could you do that again?” Mal asked. “In slow motion?”

  “Perv.” But tears sparkled in Laurel’s eyes as she turned and laid one on him.“She said again and again it didn’t matter, but it did.” She sniffled, smiled at Parker. “We know it did. Back in fifteen.”

  “Everyone’s getting the crying out of the way tonight.”

  “Thank God. I’m having a hard time holding it in.”

  “Funny guy.” She drilled a finger in his belly.“I need to check on the caterers, and the Parlor, and the Grand Hall, and—”

  He grabbed another cookie and went with her.

  THERE WAS ALWAYS A BUZZ IN THE AIR BEFORE AN EVENT, MAL thought, but not like this buzz.This one almost shocked the skin. The photographer Mac had trusted for her wedding already worked with her assistant, getting candids as Carter’s family came in and the noise level rose.

  He wa
tched Parker move among them, offering drinks, crouching down to talk to the kids. In short order the big foyer, the Parlor vibrated with people and movement. Flowers—he imagined they were a mild prelude to tomorrow’s—perfumed the air.

  He tried the champagne and glanced over as Parker talked with his airport pickup.As he started toward them, Mac came racing down the staircase.

  “I’m not late!” She laughed, searched Carter out of the crowd. Her smile only beamed brighter. “I just wanted to—”

  Malcolm saw her face change, and for a moment the utter shock on it made him wonder if Parker had made a mistake.

  Then her eyes welled. “Dad?”

  Geoffrey Elliot, handsome, charming, and absent for most of his daughter’s life, stepped forward, opened his arms. “Baby.”

  She ran into them, pressed her face to his shoulder.“I thought you couldn’t make it.”

  “As if I’d miss my baby girl’s wedding.” He drew her back, kissed her on both damp cheeks. “Aren’t you a pretty picture?”

  “Dad.” She laid her head on his shoulder, found Parker, blinked her eyes clear. She mouthed thank you.

  No mistake, Malcolm thought, and snagging a second glass of champagne, took it to her. “Nice work, Legs.”

  She took the champagne and pulled a tissue out of her pocket to dry her own eyes. “It’s what I do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IT SNOWED.AND IT WAS FLUFFY AND BEAUTIFUL. BY NOON PARKER had the parking lot and walkways cleared, and the bride was stretched out upstairs, enjoying the hot stone massage her friends had given her as a wedding-day gift.

  The entrance and the staircase both glittered and gleamed with the work Emma and her team had completed. Massive pillar candles flanked the wide doorway of the Grand Hall in groups of three, with masses and masses of richly hued flowers at their creamy white bases.

  At dusk, miles of lights strung on the exterior of the house and on the small forest of miniature pines lining the walk in their silver pots would flicker and glow. Candles would shine in every window where wreaths of flowers hung, trailing long white ribbons.

  The house, Parker thought as she circled it and checked every detail, was a celebration that would sparkle and shimmer through the night.