“I’m not sure,” Maggie said, then popped an almond in her mouth. “As I said, I’m having sort of a letdown after working on this big wedding so long. I’ll have a better idea how I really feel after tonight and I get some more sleep, sleep, sleep. I’m exhausted and now isn’t the time to analyze how I feel about Roses and Wishes.”
“True.” Martha nodded, then sighed. “Oh, Maggie, I wish things were different. I’d like to think you’d be planning one of those beautiful weddings for yourself someday, but… Hardly seems fair, does it? I know, I know, no one said that life is fair.”
“No,” Maggie said quietly, “no one said that.”
Mother and daughter chatted for a while longer, Martha bringing Maggie up to date on the gossip in the neighborhood, including the news that another of Maggie’s childhood friends was getting married, which did nothing to improve Maggie’s rather gloomy mood.
Another bride, she thought as she hugged her mother, then left the house. Another bride that wasn’t her. Her mom had said she’d reminded the bride-to-be about Roses and Wishes but, due to a very limited budget, the newly engaged couple planned to exchange vows at the courthouse.
No, she thought as she drove away, she wasn’t getting more depressed by the minute because her friend hadn’t chosen Roses and Wishes to plan her wedding. It was because her friend was having a wedding, had found her special someone and would live happily ever after.
Happily ever after, Maggie mused, then sighed. Every bride and groom believed that was their destiny, that they would be together until death parted them, and for some that was gloriously true. But for others?
“Don’t go there, Maggie,” she ordered herself aloud. “Go home and eat a ton of yogurt-covered almonds and quit thinking.” She drew a wobbly breath. “And whatever you do, do not dwell on Luke St. John.”
Months ago Maggie had splurged on what she referred to in her mind as The Dress. It was sea-green chiffon with a camisole top and a skirt that swirled in changing hues of color just below her knees. Her shoes were strappy evening sandals with three-inch heels. If the event was during the Phoenix winter, she added a lacy off-white shawl that had belonged to her grandmother.
The fact that she wore the same dress to each wedding was immaterial, she knew, because she went unnoticed, was just a busy figure in the background who bustled around making certain everything went as planned.
Wearing The Dress, Maggie arrived at the church an hour before the ceremony was to begin and checked to see that the flowers were delivered and in place. Two of the candles in front of the altar were yellow, and the single one that represented Ginger and Robert united was mint-green.
Maggie stood in the silent church in front of the candles, remembering how Reverend Mason had explained their meaning while she and Luke were playing out the roles of bride and groom.
Knowing she was acting ridiculous, Maggie slid one of the yellow tapers free, then glanced to the right, envisioning Luke holding the other one. In her mind’s eye she saw them moving at the same time, igniting the one larger candle in the center. She blew out the imaginary flame that declared her to be a single entity and saw—oh, yes, she really saw—the dancing light from the larger candle in the middle.
Maggie, stop it, she ordered herself as she replaced the yellow taper. Enough of this foolishness.
She turned and her breath caught as she saw Luke standing at the back of the church, watching her as he held a garment bag over his shoulder with one finger.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she walked up the aisle to where Luke stood.
“Hello, Luke,” she said, looking at an empty space just above his head. “I was just making certain the candles weren’t stuck in the holders or anything. Details, details, details. You just wouldn’t believe how many little things there are to keep track of for an event like this. And that’s my job, by golly, checking all those details and…”
“You look beautiful.” Luke’s voice was rich, deep and so very male and sensuous that a shiver coursed through Maggie. “Pretty as a bride.”
“Oh, well, thank you,” Maggie said, still not meeting his gaze. “This is The Dress. What I mean is—Never mind. It’s not important. I assume that’s your tux you’re holding. Ginger changed her mind three times on the color of the tuxedos before settling on pale gray. I hope you don’t mind wearing a ruffled shirt, because she didn’t budge on ruffled shirts. So. Well. I’d best go into the bride’s dressing room and…”
“Maggie, look at me,” Luke said quietly.
“Gosh, I just don’t have time to do that, Luke.”
“Look…at…me.”
Maggie slowly shifted her eyes to Luke’s and immediately felt light-headed, as though she might float off into oblivion.
“Yes?” she said softly.
“Will you save me a dance at the reception?”
“No, I can’t because I don’t actually take part, per se, in the reception activities. I hover around in the background checking those pesky little details I told you about. So, nope, no dance. Sorry ’bout that. Gotta go. ’Bye.”
“Maggie, do I make you nervous?” Luke said, frowning.
“Nervous? Me?” she said, waving one hand in the air. “Don’t be silly. It’s not you, it’s the whole evening ahead. The reputation of Roses and Wishes is at stake here. Everything has to be perfect.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “That includes keeping all members of the wedding party happy. Right?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Then promise you’ll dance with me. Just one dance, Maggie. That’s not too much to ask, is it? You wouldn’t want to make the best man grumpy, would you? Heaven forbid.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Do you always get what you want, Luke?”
“When it’s very important to me, I do,” he said, still looking directly into her eyes. “Is it a deal? One dance?”
“Jeez Louise, all right,” Maggie said. “But if some detail goes wrong while I’m dancing that dance, it will be your fault, Luke St. John.”
“Fair enough,” he said, smiling. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Fine,” she said, then scooted around him and hurried away.
Luke stood statue-still for a long moment, staring at the candles that symbolized two becoming one. He nodded, then turned and walked slowly toward the room where the men in the wedding party were to change into their pale gray tuxedos.
Maggie had prepared herself to deal with a totally jangled and nervous-to-the max prewedding Ginger. To Maggie’s amazement and heartfelt delight, Ginger had a quiet serenity about her when she arrived in the dressing room at the church.
“Are you really okay?” Maggie said, peering at the bride.
“I’m about to marry the man I love with my whole heart, Maggie,” Ginger said softly. “That’s all I can think about, focus on. It’s strange, isn’t it? I made such a fuss about having the right colored almonds in the nut cups, and suddenly none of that is important.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” Maggie said, smiling. “And you’re absolutely beautiful in your dress, Ginger. I hope you and Robert will be very, very happy together.”
“Oh, we will be,” Ginger said, nodding. “We will be.”
Forever? Maggie thought. Until death parted them and even beyond? What were the chances of that?
“Mother,” Ginger said, bringing Maggie back to the moment at hand, “you’ve got to stop crying or you’ll be all blotchy in the photographs.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Barrington said, dabbing at her nose with yet another tissue. “But you’re my baby girl and… Ohhh, I’m a wreck.”
“It’s time,” Maggie said, looking at her watch. “Mothers, please go and have the ushers seat you now. Bridesmaids, head for the vestibule. You’re all simply gorgeous.”
“I look like one of those yogurt-covered almonds,” Tiffy said, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t want to do this.”
Maggie ste
pped in front of Tiffy to block her view of herself in the mirror.
“If you want to live to see another day,” Maggie said so only Tiffy could hear, “you’ll go get in line, Tiffy.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I just did,” Maggie said.
“Oh. Right. Okay. I’m going,” Tiffy said, giving Maggie a wary look, then hurrying from the room.
Maggie threw up her hands. “Well, if Tiffy ever gets married, Roses and Wishes sure isn’t going to get the chance to coordinate her wedding.”
Over three hundred guests witnessed the wedding of Ginger Barrington and Robert St. John. From her usual place in the last pew in the church, Maggie Jenkins indulged herself by watching Luke St. John during the entire picture-perfect ceremony.
What Luke did for a pale gray tuxedo, she thought dreamily, was sinful. The color accentuated his dark hair and tanned skin. The custom-tailored tux made his shoulders look a block wide. And those strong but gentle hands produced the ring right on cue.
The smile that broke across Luke’s face when Robert kissed his wife sent shivers coursing down Maggie’s spine.
Reverend Mason introduced Mr. and Mrs. Robert St. John to the congregation, then the organ music swelled and the recessional took place, the smiling bride and groom leading the way back down the aisle. When Luke and the maid of honor went by where Maggie stood, he met her gaze for a brief moment and a frisson of heat swirled throughout her.
How on earth, Maggie thought, very aware of her racing heart, was she going to survive her dance with Luke? A promise was a promise, but… If she was just so busy tending to those details, details, details and managed to keep some distance between her and Luke, the dance might never take place. It would take some fancy foot-work on her part and she’d have to stay on red alert as to where Luke was at all times, but she could pull this off.
“Good plan,” she said under her breath. “Maggie, you’re brilliant.”
The reception was being held at one of the exclusive country clubs in Phoenix. A dinner buffet greeted the guests and the huge ballroom was filled with a multitude of round tables each topped with a mint-green or yellow tablecloth and contrasting color candle burning in a glass cylinder in the center. A ten-piece band would play quietly during the meal, then change to Ginger’s choice of dance music after the champagne toasts had been made and the four-tier cake had been cut and served by the army of waiters.
As everything continued to go like clockwork, Maggie began to relax and a wave of utter fatigue swept over her. She sat on a folding chair in a dim corner of the room, nibbling on a small plate of food, and nodded in approval at the final outcome of her months of labor.
She’d done it, she thought. Roses and Wishes had hopefully now wiggled its way into the high-society scene of Phoenix. She’d seen the business cards she’d propped next to the candleholder on each table being slipped into purses and given to men to place in their pockets. Fantastic.
Maggie frowned as she recalled the conversation with her mother regarding whether Maggie truly wanted to continue to plan weddings for bride after bride while knowing she herself would never have that title. Well, she wasn’t going to dwell on that now, for heaven’s sake. She intended to bask in her glory tonight of a job well done for Ginger and Robert St. John.
Maggie placed her plate on the tray of a passing waiter, then smiled as Ginger and Robert took the floor for the first dance.
How lovely, she thought. They looked so happy, had eyes only for each other as they moved around the gleaming expanse. They danced so well together and—
Maggie suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair.
Dancing, she thought frantically. Other couples were now joining the bride and groom to enjoy the terrific music and so many people were dancing, for heaven’s sake. Where was Luke? She had to keep careful track of Luke.
There he was dancing with Ginger. Now he’d shifted to his mother. Fine. My, my, he was poetry in motion, so graceful for a man of his size. Oops. He’d bowed slightly and given his mother’s hand to his father and—no, no, no—he was headed toward her secret little corner, was working his way through the crowd on the dance floor. She was out of there.
Maggie jumped to her feet and hurried to the head table, where she gave instructions for the top layer of the cake to be boxed up so it could be frozen and brought out again on Ginger and Robert’s first anniversary celebration.
“Give it to the mother of the bride,” Maggie told a waiter. “She agreed to take care of it tonight.”
“You told us that at the meeting we had last week,” the waiter said, frowning. “I’ve got it covered, Maggie.”
“Of course you do,” Maggie said, patting him on the arm. “I’m sorry for nagging.” She looked quickly into the distance and saw Luke advancing. “How’s the supply of champagne holding up?”
“Fine,” the waiter said, rolling his eyes. “Trust me. Everything is going great. Isn’t there something else you should be doing?”
“Right.” Maggie pointed one finger in the air. “I do believe I’ll visit the powder room.”
“Good idea,” the man said drily. “Don’t feel you have to check back here.”
“Keep up the great work,” Maggie said, then rushed away.
When Maggie entered the powder room, she absently registered the fact that it was bigger than her entire living space at home. There was a huge sitting area with love seats, easy chairs and coffee tables holding attractive baskets of artificial flowers.
Beyond all of that were the stalls, a long mirror surrounded by makeup bulbs and a vanity with eight or ten sinks. The noise level was high as women stood two deep in front of the mirror, touching up their postdinner lipstick, one row peering over the shoulders of the other as they chatted and laughed, a good time obviously being had by all.
There was no point in staying in here with this crowd, Maggie thought, shaking her head. The noise was enough to give her a headache and, besides, her purse was locked in a cabinet in the kitchen, so she had nothing to repair her lipstick with.
Well, there was no problem really about leaving the powder room, because even if Luke had figured out where she had been headed, he wouldn’t do anything as crass as to plant himself outside the door of the women’s restroom. People with money were very big on proper social decorum, and that maneuver definitely wouldn’t go down well here.
Nodding in satisfaction that she was so far doing a dandy job of keeping a safe distance between herself and Luke, Maggie opened the door and walked out into the hallway beyond.
And walked smack-dab into the solid, unmoving body of Luke St. John.
Four
Maggie gasped and staggered slightly, causing Luke to grip her upper arms to steady her.
“Well,” he said, not releasing his hold on her, “fancy meeting you here, Maggie.”
“Luke,” she said, looking quickly to each side, “you can’t hang around outside the women’s restroom. It’s not…couth, not nice at all. Your mother would be mortified.”
“My mother isn’t here,” he said, frowning. “You are. Ever since the music began you’ve been bouncing around the room out there like a Ping-Pong ball. I have the distinct impression that you don’t intend to keep your promise to dance with me. Talk about mortifying a mother. How would yours feel if she knew her daughter hadn’t kept her word?”
Maggie opened her mouth to say something in her defense, only to realize she was guilty as charged.
“How about,” she said, narrowing her eyes in concentration, “I had details, details, details to check on?”
“Nope,” Luke said. “Everything is going like a fine-tuned machine. I’m betting that there’s nothing left to check on.”
“Oh.” Maggie paused. “Well, then, try this. I needed to freshen my lipstick, like all the others in the powder room are doing.”
“I might buy that,” Luke said, nodding, “except where is your tube of lipstick? No purse, no lipstick.”
&nb
sp; “Oh.”
“Maggie,” Luke said, his voice gentling, “don’t you want to dance with me?”
“Yes, I do. It’s just that I—”
“Good. That’s settled then.” Luke released her arms and grasped one of her hands with one of his. “Let’s go.”
“But…”
The door to the powder room opened and three young women emerged, stopping before they bumped into Luke and Maggie.
“Well, Luke St. John,” one of the women said, smiling coyly, “what on earth are you doing skulking around outside our private little place? Are you lost, gorgeous man?”
“Not at all,” Luke said, tightening his hold on Maggie’s hand as she tried to pull free. “I just came to collect my partner for the next waltz. I thought it would be extremely polite on my part to escort her to the dance floor.”
“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” one of the other women said.
“That’s the way I see it,” Luke said. “Come along, Maggie.”
“You’re a lucky girl, Maggie,” the third woman said with a wistful sigh. “I’ve been trying to get Luke to collect me for all kinds of things for years and nothing has worked. What do you know that I don’t?”
“I have no idea,” Maggie said wearily.
“Enjoy your evening, ladies,” Luke said, starting down the hallway with Maggie in tow.
Just as Maggie and Luke reentered the main room, a song ended and the band paused, then began to play a slow, dreamy waltz.
“Perfect,” Luke said, smiling as he led Maggie onto the crowded, gleaming floor.
And then Maggie was in Luke’s embrace, swaying to the music as though they had spent a lifetime dancing together. He nestled her close to his body and she totally ignored the naggy little voice in her mind that was telling her she was in a danger zone, should move backward, keep space between them.
A Bride by Christmas Page 4