by Nora Roberts
“Doesn’t your arm get tired?”
“Yes.”
“Jack’s fate hangs—Damn it.” She broke off as her phone rang. “Give me a minute.”
Used to interrupted conversations, Laurel judged the egg and sugar mixture ready, so took the vanilla pod out of the milk, and put it back on the stove. While she waited for it to return to a boil, she drank some lemonade and listened to Parker solve a problem for an upcoming bride.
Several problems, she decided as her milk had time to boil. She ladled half of it into the egg-yolk mix and went back to whisking.
“You just leave that to me,” Parker said. “Absolutely. Consider it done. I’ll see you and your mother on the twenty-first. Two o’clock. No problem at all. Bye.” She finished the call. “Don’t ask,” she told Laurel.
“Wasn’t going to.” Laurel poured the mixture from the bowl to the saucepan. Whisked, whisked, whisked. “Can’t stop now. Critical, but I’m listening.”
“Where was I?”
“Jack’s fate.”
“Right. Whether or not I have to hurt our beloved Jack depends on if this is a setup.”
“Do you really believe our beloved Jack would even think about setting you up with Malcolm?”
“No, but Emma might.”
“If she did, she’d tell me.” Laurel thought about it for a moment. “Yes, she’d tell me. She couldn’t help herself. She’d probably swear me to secrecy, which I’d honor. But there’d be the lie escape clause. I’d have to tell you the truth if you asked.”
“I’m asking.”
“Then no. Emma hasn’t said anything to me, so I therefore declare both her and Jack innocent of all charges.You don’t have a problem with Mal, do you?”
“Not especially. I just don’t like setups.”
“None of us does, which is why none of us ever attempts one for any of the rest of us. You know that, Parker.”
Parker’s fingers tapped the glass as she rose and wandered to the window and back again to sit. “There are always exceptions, especially when some of us are blinded by love and wedding plans.”
Fidgeting, Laurel thought. Parker rarely if ever fidgeted. “This isn’t one, to the best of my knowledge. You’ll have to imagine me lifting my hand to cross my heart because I can’t stop whisking yet.”
“All right. Jack’s spared. And I suppose there’s even more room since you and Del will be sharing a bedroom.”
She frowned into her lemonade as Laurel finally stopped whisking and took the pan off the burner. “Next problem?” Laurel asked.
“I have to decide whether to make sure Malcolm doesn’t have or get the wrong impression about this, or wait to make that clear if and when he does.”
Laurel strained the cream through a sieve over the bowl she’d set on the ice water bath. “Do you want my take?”
“I do.”
“It seems to me if you said anything about wrong impressions ahead of time, you’d invite them and/or irritate him into making a move anyway. He strikes me as the type who takes a dare. I’d leave it alone.”
“Sensible.”
“I can be.” Laurel took the small pieces of butter she’d already set out, and whisking yet again, added them one at a time to the cream.
“All right. I’ll just consider Malcolm a playmate for the other boys, and let it go.”
“Wise.” At last, Laurel put down her whisk and rubbed her arm. “I like him. Mal. I know I don’t know him all that well, but I like him.”
“He seems likeable enough.”
“Plus sexy.”
“Excuse me, aren’t you currently sleeping with my brother?”
“I am, and really hope to continue that. But one must notice sexy men. And if you tell me you haven’t noticed, I’m going to have to use this ice bath to put out the fire in your pants.”
“He’s not my type. And what are you grinning about?”
“Del said the same thing.”
Challenge and irritation ran over Parker’s face. “Oh, really?”
“Just the way Del does—because really, nobody’s his sister’s type in Del’s overprotective mind. But when he said it, I thought, yeah, exactly. Which is why I like him.”
Parker took a slow sip of lemonade. “You don’t like my type?” “Don’t be dense, Parker. He’s sexy, interesting, and different from your usual—and that could be fun for you. Maybe you should let him get the wrong impression.”
“Blinded by love.”
“I guess I am.”
“And why does that worry you?”
Laurel stopped massaging her fingers to point one at Parker. “You’re changing the subject.”
“I am, but it’s still a good question.”
“I guess it is,” Laurel admitted. “I’ve never loved anyone but him. Knowing I’ve got all this in me for him, and only being sure he cares. Cares a lot, but there’s such a big difference between cares a lot and loves. It’s scary, which is the way I’m told it’s supposed to be, but that doesn’t make it less scary.”
“He’d never hurt you. And that’s the wrong thing to say,” Parker realized immediately. “Don’t you want him to know you’ve got all that in you for him?”
“Can’t. Because he’d never hurt me, and he’d try so hard not to.”
“Which would hurt more.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m doing my best to just stay in the moment. I think it’s working. Most of the time. Still, I can’t help looking for the trapdoors and trip wires.” And pianos over my head, she thought.
“Sensible advice back at you. Sometimes you look for the trapdoor and run into a wall instead.”
“I wish I didn’t know you were right. Okay.” Laurel waved her hands as if clearing a board. “I’m in the moment. I’m practically Zen.”
“Stay that way I’m going to call Mac and get things set up for later. Six okay?”
“Six is perfect.”
Parker stood up, then blew out a breath. “Give me just a taste of that, will you? It’s cruelty otherwise.”
Laurel got a spoon, dipped it into the warm cream, then offered.
“Oh God.” Parker closed her eyes. “It was worth every whisk. Shit!” she muttered as her phone rang.
“Do you ever think about just not answering?”
“Yes, but I’m not a coward.” She checked the readout as she walked out of the kitchen. “This is Parker at Vows. How are you, Mrs. Winthrop?”
Parker’s voice had barely faded away when Del came in from the other direction.
“Well, this is a popular spot today.”
“Why have I never noticed how sexy you look in an apron?” He leaned down to kiss her—but she saw his move toward the bowl of cream and slapped his hand away.
“Do you want to get me in trouble with the board of health?”
“I don’t see any agents around here.”
She got out a spoon, gave him the same taste as she’d given Parker.
“Good. Really good.You taste better.”
“Very smooth, but that’s all you get.” She moved the bowl out of reach. “I thought you were going to the game with your little pals.”
“I am. I’m meeting up with Jack and Carter here, then we’re swinging by to pick up Mal.”
“You’re taking a limo to the ball game again.” It was, she thought, so absolutely Del.
“What’s wrong with taking a limo to the game? That way you can have beer, not worry about parking or the frustration of traffic. It’s a pure win.”
“I should’ve made this a silver spoon,” she said, and took the spoon from him to put it in the sink.
“Just for that I might not give you your present.”
Both intrigued and suspicious, she turned. “What present?” He opened his briefcase, took out a box. “This present. But you may be too much of a smart-ass to deserve it.”
“Smart-asses need presents, too. Why did you get me a present?”
“Because you need it, smart-ass.” He handed it t
o her. “Open it.”
She admired the Wonder Woman wrapping and big red bow before ruthlessly tearing them off. Then she frowned at the picture on the box. It looked like some sort of handheld computer or oversized recorder. “What is it?”
“A time-saver. Here. I set it up already.” He opened the box, took out the device with a gleam in his eye that told her the gift was something he wanted for himself.
“Instead of writing out lists,” he told her, “you do this. Push Record.” He did so, then said
eggs. “See?” He turned it around to show her the word
eggs on a little display screen. “Then you push the Select button, and it’s on the list.”
Okay, she thought, he’d caught her interest. “What list?”
“The list you’ll have when you’re finished and push this.” He tapped another button. “It prints it out, and better yet, arranges the items in categories. Like, you know, dairy or condiments, whatever.”
Her serious interest. “Get out. How?”
“I don’t know how. Maybe there’s someone in there arranging. And it has this library feature, so you can add specialized items it wouldn’t have in there already. You use a lot of unusual ingredients.”
“Let me try it.” She took it, pressed Record. “Vanilla beans.” Her lips pursed as she read the display. “It says vanilla pudding.”
“It probably doesn’t have vanilla beans in the library because most people just buy the bottled stuff.”
“True. But I can put it in?”
“Yeah, then it’ll get it next time. And you can put in the quantities. Like three dozen eggs, or however many vanilla beans you’d buy. Are they actual beans?”
“They come in a pod,” she murmured, studying her gift. “You bought me a kitchen recorder lister thing.”
“I did. It’s magnetic, so you can put it up on the side of one of your coolers, or wherever it works for you.”
“Most guys go with flowers.”
She clearly saw the hitch that put in his stride.
“Do you want flowers?”
“No. I want this. A whole bunch. It’s a really great present.” She looked up at him. “It’s a really great present, Del.”
“Good. Don’t be jealous, but I bought one for Mrs. G, too.”
“That slut.”
He grinned, kissed her again. “I need to run over and give it to her, then get going or I’m going to be late.”
“Del,” she said before he got to the door. He’d bought her a kitchen gadget, one both practical and fun. All that was in her for him wanted to say it, just tell him.
I love you. Only three words, she thought, all just one syllable. But she couldn’t.
“Have a good time at the game.”
“Planning on it. Talk to you later.”
Sighing a little, she sat down to wait for the cream to cool, and played with her present.
GIRL NIGHT WAS A FAVORITE EVENT. IT OFTEN INVOLVED DINNER and DVDs, popcorn, gossip, and always just the ease and comfort of friends in a tradition that went back to childhood. The addition of Emma’s possible wedding dress was, well, the icing on the cake. Anticipating an indulgent evening, Laurel ended the workday by setting her kitchen to rights as Emma came in.
“I thought I might catch you here.”
“Just finishing up,” Laurel told her.
“I have a request for cupcakes, two dozen. Two weeks,” Emma added quickly. “So at least the client didn’t squeeze it too close. It’s my cousin. Coworker’s office baby shower. The only directive was cute.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Surprise, so not gender specific. Really whatever you want.”
“Okay. Put it on the board.”
“I appreciate it.” Emma added the order and date to Laurel’s task board. “What’s this?” She tapped the electronic list maker.
“Del gave me a present.”
“Oh, that’s so nice. What did he give you?”
“That. It’s so cool. Watch this.” She walked over, pushed Record. “Unsalted butter. I programmed that in. See, there it is. I push this, and it’s on the list.”
Emma just stared. “This is a present?”
“Yes. I know to your way of thinking a present from a guy isn’t a present unless it’s shiny. But I can hot glue some sequins on it if it makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t have to be shiny. It can also smell good. Well, it’s thoughtful, and you like it, so it’s a nice gift. What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.”
“Oh, just a gimme? That definitely bumps up the ranking.”
“It’s going to fall on your scoreboard when I tell you he got Mrs. G one, too.”
“Well,
jeez!” Firm on this, Emma fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, it falls to the token category. A present has to be a one-on-one under these circumstances. It’s a thoughtful token. This, my friend, is a present.” She lifted her arm to dangle the bracelet Jack had given her. “The earrings Carter gave Mac forValentine’s Day? That’s a present. I fear Del requires some training.”
“He would if he were your boyfriend.”
“Del’s your boyfriend!” With a laugh, Emma grabbed Laurel to dance her in a circle.
“That sounds so high school.There has to be another term.”
“Why are we dancing?” Parker wondered as she stepped in.
“Del is Laurel’s boyfriend, and he gave her a token. I’m sorry, it’s just not present-worthy. Look.”
Parker went over. “Oh! I’ve seen these. I want one.”
“Of course you do,” Emma said with a sigh. “You’re his sister. But would you consider it a gift, especially if he gave one to Mrs. G, too?”
“Hmm. It does fall in the murky area. But it’s thoughtful, and very appropriate for Laurel.”
“There.” Emma lifted a finger in triumph. “That’s what I said. Here’s Mac. Mac, we need a tiebreaker.”
“For what? And what are we doing in here? This is Girl Night.”
“We need to clear this up first. Is this a gift or a token?” Emma gestured.
“What the hell is it?”
“See, token.You never have to ask what a present is. Parker, tell Del to buy Laurel something pretty.”
“No. Stop it.” Laurel gave Emma a shove, but she had to laugh. “I like it. If you like it, all rules are off, and it’s a present.”
“What the hell is it?” Mac asked again.
“It’s an electronic organizer for marketing and errands,” Parker explained. “I want one, too. Why didn’t Del buy me one? I like presents.”
“Token,” Emma insisted.
“You don’t need another organizer,” Laurel told Parker.
Mac continued to frown at it. “For God’s sake don’t show it to Carter. He’ll want one, then he’ll want me to use it.”
“Del bought one for Mrs. G, too, so Carter’s bound to see it,” Emma commented.
“Damn it.”
“This is entirely too much controversy over my new toy. I’m going upstairs.”
“Is Mrs. G making pizza?” Emma wondered. “I’ve been thinking all day about Mrs. G’s pizza and a large quantity of wine.”
“We’ll get to it, but we’ve got something to do first.”
“Not work.” Emma grabbed Parker’s arm. “I’m so ready for carbs and alcohol and girls.”
“Not work, exactly. I happened to pick something up today for approval. You’ll need to see it.”
“What did you ... Oh! Oh!” Now Emma spun Parker in a dance. “My wedding dress? Did you find my dress?”
“Maybe. And to follow a recent tradition, we’re in the Bride’s Suite.”
“This is the best surprise. The best.”
“If it doesn’t work for you ... ” Parker began as Emma pulled her up the stairs.
“It’ll still be the best surprise. Oh, I’m nervous.” She stopped outside the door of the Bride’s Suite. “I’m really nervous. Okay
, here we go.” She reached for the door, pulled her hand back. “I can’t open it. Somebody else open it.”
Laurel pushed open the door. “In you go,” she said, then gave Emma a shove.
Emma gasped, then pressed a hand to her lips.
Parker never missed, Laurel thought. The dress
was Emma. Romantic and fanciful with its acres of frothy skirts, with just a hint of sexy in the sparkle of the deeply off-the-shoulder bodice. A garden of fabric roses bloomed on the warm white of the elaborate pick-up skirt and along the sweeping train fit for a princess.
“It’s a fairy tale,” Emma managed. “Oh, Parker, it’s a fairy tale.”
“Have some of this.” Mrs. Grady, who’d been waiting with champagne, handed a flute to Emma. “No crying with champagne. You’ll water it down.”
“It’s the most beautiful dress in the world.”
“You have to try it on. Strip it off, Em,” Laurel ordered. “Parker and I will help you. Mac’s documenting.”
“The skirt.” Reverently, Emma brushed her fingertips over the fabric. “It’s like clouds. It’ll billow. Oh, look at the back!” Tiny white rosebuds trailed down to hide the zipper. “Could there be a more perfect dress for a florist?”
“It kept saying ‘take me to Emma,’” Parker told her as she and Laurel helped her into it.
“No peeking!” Laurel ordered as Emma started to turn her head to look in the mirror. “Not until we’re done.”
“Needs a couple of tucks.” Mrs. Grady stepped over with her pins as Mac circled with her camera.
“Laurel, the train needs a little ...Yeah, that’s it,” Mac said. “Oh, Em. Just wow.”
“I have to see.”
“Hold your horses,” Mrs. Grady muttered, and finished her pinning. She stepped back out of the way, gave the nod.
“Ready?” Emma held her breath, turned.
Mac caught it, Laurel thought, caught that moment of wonder, the sheen of tears that was joy.
“All my life,” Emma murmured. “Ever since we were little girls, I dreamed of this. And here I am, in my wedding dress. And it feels exactly as I hoped it would.”
“You look like a princess,” Laurel told her. “Honestly, Emma, you’re just staggering.”
Emma reached out, touching fingertips to the mirror. “It’s me. I’m going to wear this dress to marry the man I love. Isn’t that amazing?”