by Nora Roberts
of gifts to the limo outside. “We’ll deal with it after.”
“She’s going to try to evade.” Like Parker, Emma kept an easy smile on her face. “I’m worried because she’s not mad. Usually dealing with her mother makes her mad. It can bring her down, but the mad’s there.”
“Nothing to do until we can do it. Last dance is coming up,” Parker calculated after a glance at her watch. “She’ll want to take the departure shots outside. If she’s in serious brood mode, she’ll go home directly from there. So, we’ll head her off, gauge the ground.”
If she’d been using her head, Mac would have known they were laying for her. But the sheer relief of having it over, of knowing she’d done her job and done it well blocked out the rest.
She lowered her camera as the limo glided down the drive.
“Quick meeting when we’re clear,” Parker announced.
“Listen, I’m behind at the studio. I’ll copy your notes.”
“It won’t take long. We need to make sure everything’s as it should be for the presentation tomorrow. Good evening. Drive safely.” Parker smiled at a group of departing guests. “I think that’s about the last of them. Let’s do the sweep. Take the second floor, will you?”
Annoyed, Mac stomped upstairs. She wanted to go home, damn it. She wanted to be alone, to work. And she wanted to work until her eyes blurred. Then she wanted to go to bed and sleep off this misery.
But no, everything had to be in place first. It was Parker-law.
The subs had set the bride’s and groom’s suites to rights again, but she checked the bathrooms, just in case. They’d once found a wedding guest curled up asleep in the clawfoot tub in the bride’s space—the morning
after an event.
While she finished the security check, she considered ducking out one of the side doors to avoid the meeting. But that would just piss the rest of them off, and they’d come after her.
She didn’t want another confrontation, another emotional scene. Over my quota already, she thought. So she’d be a good girl, do the postevent roundup, get through the briefing for tomorrow’s proposal.
Better anyway, she decided. Less time to think. Thinking was far down the list of activities she wanted to pursue.
It didn’t surprise her to see Laurel setting up tea and finger sandwiches. Vows meetings traditionally included food and beverage of some sort.
“Nice event,” Laurel said casually. “Nobody punched anybody in the face. No booting in the shrubbery, and as far as we know, no one used any of the facilities for inappropriate sex.”
“Sunday events tend to be tame.” Emma slipped out of her shoes and stretched.
“You forget the Greenburg-Fogelman wedding.”
“Oh, yeah. That had all of the above, and more.”
Unable to sit, to settle, Mac wandered to the window. “It’s starting to snow. At least it waited until we were clear.”
“Which we are,” Parker said as she came in. “Cleaning crew’s starting on the Ballroom. Mrs. Seaman may want another look around tomorrow, so we need to shine. Laurel, menu?”
“An assortment of mini pastries, coffee, tea, fresh orange juice. To be followed during my presentation—which is the final—with the cake tasting. We’ll also have an assortment of chocolate with the B and G’s names or monogram in gold. I’ve used various styles. I’ve got both photographs and sketches of cakes—wedding and groom’s as well as some suggestions should they want to do guest cakes—the same with options for the dessert bar. I have gift boxes of the chocolate to give to the bride and her mother, and a couple extra in case someone else comes along. I’m covered.”
“Okay. Emma?”
“The bride likes tulips, and indicated she wanted them as her signature flower for the event. I’m going garden wedding, since it’s an April affair. I’ll have masses of tulips—clear glass vases, varying shapes and sizes in here. And roses, of course. I’m putting together arrangements—spring colors, scents. Plus boutonnieres. White tulip with a little sprig of lavender to set it off. I’ve done three silk bouquets, designed specifically for her. And I’ll have one that pushes on her tulips. Because that’s the one I think she’ll go with. If she goes, that is.”
She paused to rub her left foot while she worked down her list. “I’ve also done a few varieties for attendants—spring colors again as she hasn’t settled on her colors. I’ve got photos in addition to the samples I made. She’s already seen my space and a lot of my samples and displays, but I’ve changed some up and tailored them to her.
“Laurel helped me sketch out a couple ideas for the pergola area. I had this idea for dogwoods. Young dogwood trees in white urns as a backdrop. We can string them with lights. I want to suggest tussie-mussies instead of corsages for the mothers. I’ve made a few up to show her. I’ll pack arrangements for each of them to take home.”
“We’ve got plenty of photos of all the spaces dressed for spring weddings.” Parker glanced toward Mac.
“I’ve culled out what I feel are the best examples for this client. And ones that I’ve taken on details. As we already discussed, April’s iffy weather and they’ll want tents.”
“Silk tents.”
Mac nodded at Parker. “I’ve read your proposal. And seen Laurel’s sketches. We don’t have photographs of that specific layout, but we have a few that are close. I’ve put together a really strong portfolio of portraits—engagement and wedding, and a separate one with photographs we’ve had in magazines. They skimmed over the albums when they came through—and you indicated Mom’s eyes lit up at the idea of doing an art book. I’m bringing a sample of one. I’m going to take a portrait of the mother and daughter here, during the presentation. I’ll go print it out, frame it, box it, and give it to Mom.”
“That’s great.” Parker grinned. “That’s excellent. For my part I have three scenarios, different styles, that take them from the rehearsal all the way through to departure. I’ve gone back and forth, but I’ve decided to lead off with the one I think is the best.”
“The twenty-first-century fairy princess one,” Emma said. “My favorite.”
“We’ve already put about a hundred hours into this among the four of us,” Laurel pointed out. “Every digit I have is crossed.”
Emma gave a decisive nod. “I have a good feeling about this.”
“You have a good feeling about pretty much everything. If that’s it, I have a mountain of work.”
“Almost,” Parker said as Mac started to rise. “What hurts, Mac?”
“My feet mostly.”
“You might as well spill.” Laurel chose a finger sandwich. “It’s three against one.”
“It’s nothing. And I don’t see why we have to gush every time one of us has a mood.”
“We’re girls,” Emma reminded her. “Your mother has your car.”
“Yes, my mother has my car. She ambushed me this morning. I’m irritated. I’ll be irritated when she decides to bring it back, certainly out of gas, probably with a dent in the fender. End of story.”
“I know when you’re irritated.” Parker tucked up her legs. “That’s not what you were today.”
“It’s what I am now.”
“Because that’s the least of it. Carter was there when she ambushed you, wasn’t he?”
“She came on to him, the way she does with anything that has a penis. Can you imagine how embarrassing that was?”
“Was he upset?” Emma asked.
“About her?” She pushed up to walk back to the window. “I don’t know, I’m not sure. I was too busy being mortified to notice. So I gave her the keys to get her out.”
“I won’t ask what she wanted your car for.” Laurel poured out a cup of tea. “What difference does it make? What I’m wondering is why you’re upset with Carter.”
“I’m not. I’m upset with myself. For letting it happen, for letting it get this far, and not
thinking, not staying anywhere close to Planet Reality.”
“You’re not talking about Scary Linda now,” Laurel concluded.
“Oh, Mac.” Emma’s eyes darkened in sympathy. “You had a fight with Carter.”
“No. Yes. No.” Frustrated, Mac spun around. “You can’t have a fight with someone like him. People in a fight yell, or storm around. They say things they regret later. That’s why they call them fights. All he can do is be reasonable.”
“Damn the man,” Laurel stated and earned a vicious glare.
“You try it. You try to make someone like Carter understand you’ve taken the wrong direction and have everything you say bounce off the wall of calm logic.”
“You broke up with him.” From the tone, Emma’s sympathy took a sharp turn toward Carter.
“I don’t know what I did. Besides, how can you break up with someone when you haven’t said you’re together? Officially. It’s me, it’s my fault, and he won’t even listen to that. I know I let it go too far. I got caught up, swept up. Something. And when my mother walked in this morning, it was a solid slap back to reality.”
“You’re going to let her push your buttons on this?” Parker demanded.
“No. It’s not like that.” Mac spoke fiercely because part of her worried it was like that. Exactly like that. “I don’t want to hurt him. That’s what it comes down to. He thinks he’s in love with me.”
“Thinks?” Laurel repeated. “Can’t
be?”
“He’s romanticized it. Me. Everything.”
“This would be the same man who can only be reasonable. The calm wall of logic.” Lips pursed, Parker tilted her head. “But about you he’s stuck in fantasy?”
“He can have layers,” Mac argued, suddenly feeling tired and defeated.
“I think the question on the table should be not how Carter feels or doesn’t feel about you, but how you feel or don’t about him. Are you in love with him, Mac?”
Mac stared at Parker. “I care about him. That’s the point.”
“I call evasion,” Laurel said. “It’s a question that can be answered yes or no.”
“I don’t know! I don’t know what to do with all these feelings crammed inside me. He walks into my life, smacks his head into the wall, and I’m the one who’s dizzy. You said he wasn’t my type, right off the bat you said that. And you were right.”
“Actually, I think that’s one of the rare times I’ve been wrong. But you have to decide that for yourself. What’ll piss me off, Mac, what’ll disappoint is if you use Linda as your yardstick when it comes to love. Because she doesn’t even rate a measure.”
“I need some time, that’s all. I need time to find my balance, my rhythm. I can’t seem to find either when I’m around him.”
“Then take it,” Parker advised. “Be sure.”
“I will. I have to be.”
“One thing. If he loves you, I’m on his side.”
KATHRYN SEAMAN ARRIVED WITH HER DAUGHTER JESSICA AT exactly ten Monday morning. It was the sort of punctuality, Mac knew, that would warm Parker’s efficient heart. But she found it just a little scary.
Overwork, nerves, and emotional turmoil roiled an uneasy mix in her belly as she sat with her partners and potential clients in the parlor. Emma’s flood of tulips brought spring into the room even as the crackling fire in the hearth warmed it. Parker had set up her grandmother’s gorgeous Meissen tea and coffee sets, the Waterford crystal, and Georgian silver, all the perfect complement to Laurel’s glossy pastries.
If she’d needed a picture of lush, sophisticated, and female, this would’ve been it.
After the ritual small talk about the weather, Parker eased right in. “We’re so excited you’re considering Vows for your big day. We understand how important it is that you feel comfortable and confident in every detail that goes into creating a wedding that reflects who you are, and what you and Josh mean to each other. We want you to enjoy that day, and all the days leading up to it, knowing
you are our focus. We want what you want, a perfect and beautiful day full of memories to last the rest of your life.
“With that goal in mind, we’ve put together a few ideas. Before I show you the first proposal, do you have any questions?”
“Yes.” Kate Seaman opened the notebook on her lap. As her daughter laughed and rolled her eyes, she began peppering Parker with questions.
Parker’s answers were invariably yes. They provided that, would handle that, had a source for or a sample of that. When questions veered off into landscape, Emma took over.
“In addition to the wedding flowers, we’ll use annuals and pots in the flower beds and gardens, and those plantings will be specifically selected to enhance the arrangements Jessica ultimately selects. I realize it’s early in the season, but I can promise you spring on your wedding day.”
“If they’d wait till May.”
“Mom.” Jessica patted her mother’s hand. “We met in April, and we’re determined to be sentimental. It seems like a long time, plenty for all the planning. But already there are a million details.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Parker told her.
“Right now, it’s the engagement party at the club, and the Save the Date announcements.”
“We can handle that for you.”
Jessica stopped, pursed her lips. “Really?”
“Absolutely. All we need is your list. We have several sources for cards. One of the more personal styles is to create a card from your engagement photo, or a photo of you and Josh you particularly like.”
“I love that idea. Don’t you, Mom?”
And I’m up, Mac thought. “The engagement photo itself might help you decide if you like that style, or want to go more traditional. Setting the date, your venue, finding that perfect dress, and the engagement photo are all early details that, once done, free your mind and your time for the rest. And also, they set the tone for your wedding.”
“You have samples of photos you’ve taken.”
“Yes.” Rising Mac picked up the portfolio of engagement shots, offered it to Kate. “I feel the engagement portrait is as important as a wedding portrait. It illustrates the promise made, the intent, the joy and anticipation. What brought these people together? Why have they exchanged this first promise? Tailoring that portrait, which announces to friends, to family, to everyone that Jessica and Josh found each other is my job.”
“In your studio?” Kate asked.
“Yes, or at whatever venue suits the couple.”
“At the club,” Kate decreed. “At the engagement party. Jessie has a stunning gown. She and Josh look wonderful together in black tie. And Jessie will be wearing my mother’s rubies.”
As her eyes misted, Kate reached over, took her daughter’s hand.
“It’s a lovely idea, and I’d be happy to set that up. But I did have another idea for this portrait. You and Josh met while riding, and that’s a passion you both share. I’d like to take a portrait of you on horseback.”
“On horseback?” Kate frowned. “It isn’t a snapshot. I don’t want Jessica in jodhpurs and a riding hat for her engagement portrait. I want her to sparkle.”
“I was thinking more a soft gleam. Romantic, a little fanciful. You have a chestnut gelding. Trooper.”
“How did you know that?”
“It’s our job to know about our clients. But not in a creepy way,” Mac added and made Jessica laugh.
“I see you and Josh on Trooper, riding double. Josh in a tux, the tie loose, the first few studs undone, and you behind him, in a gorgeous, flowing gown—and your grandmother’s rubies,” she added. “Your arms around his waist, your hair down, caught in the wind. The background just a blur of color and shape.”
“Oh my God.” Jessica just breathed it. “I love that. I really love it. Mom.”
“It sounds . . . beautiful. Magical.”
“And I think you’ll find the idea flows right into what we’ve put together as the theme for the wedding. Parker.”
Rising, P
arker stepped to the easel that was set up. “We have photos that will show you overviews and details of what we’ve done in the past, what we can do, but as your wedding will be unique, we’re using sketches of our vision for your day.”
She removed the cover from the first sketch. “Fairyland,” she said, and Mac imagined each of her partners felt the same quick thrill she did when the bride gasped.
“I THINK WE GOT IT. DON’T YOU THINK WE GOT IT? GOD, I’M exhausted.” Emma sprawled out on the sofa. “And a little sick. I ate too much candy to calm my nerves. Don’t you think we got it?”
“If we didn’t, I’m taking up a collection to order a hit on Kathryn Seaman.” Laurel propped her feet on the stack of albums on the coffee table. “That woman is tough.”
“She loves her daughter,” Parker commented.
“Yeah, that came through, but God, we practically bled wedding perfection here, and couldn’t get her to commit.”
“She’s going to. Otherwise we won’t need the collection. I’ll kill her myself.” Rubbing her neck, Parker paced. “She needs to think it over, discuss it with her husband, just as Jessica has to talk it over with Josh and get his take. That’s reasonable. That’s normal.”
“Kate drives the train,” Mac pointed out. “I think she just wants to torture us. She was completely sold on the royal palace wedding cake.”
Laurel gnawed her lip. “You think?”
“I was watching her, I started watching her like a cat watches a mouse—or maybe I was the mouse and she was the cat. But I was watching her. Her eyes gleamed over that cake. I could hear her thinking, ‘Nobody’s getting that palace of a cake but my baby girl.’ We hit every note. Both of them got dreamy over Emma’s dogwoods and fairy lights. And the tulip cascade bouquet? Jessie wants it for her own. Then Mom casually mentions her husband’s two left feet, and Parker reaches into her magic collection of business cards and pulls out a personal dance instructor.”
“That was a good one,” Emma agreed. “Anyway, Mom wants what Baby wants, and Baby wants us. I can feel it.” She let out a sigh, pushed herself up. “I’ve got to go pot up fifty-five narcissus for a wedding shower. Everybody take some tulips.”
“I’m going to go see if my car’s back. I have an outside shoot and a bunch of errands.” Mac looked at Parker. “If she didn’t show, can I borrow your car?”
SOME PEOPLE, PARKER THOUGHT, WOULD SAY SHE WAS INTERFERING, that this was none of her business. Some people, she thought, didn’t know her.
She fixed problems. And if she didn’t at least try to fix one for her oldest friend, then what was the point in being a fixer in the first place?
She walked into Coffee Talk determined to do her best, for everyone.
The Sunday night crowd set up a low hum of conversation. She could hear the whoosh of the frother, the buzz of the grinder as she glanced around. She spotted Carter at a two-top, and putting on a smile walked over to join him.
“Hi, Carter, thanks for meeting me.”
“Sure. You had an event today.”
“This afternoon. It went very well.” No point in wasting time, she thought. “Mac was unhappy and upset, but she put that aside for the clients.”
“I’m sorry I upset her.”
“And she you. But,” Parker continued before he could speak, “her mother’s at the root of it. I imagine all three of us know that, even if we react to it differently.”
“She was embarrassed. Mackensie. She didn’t need to be. Not for me.”
“Her mother will always embarrass her.” Parker glanced at the waitress who stopped at the table. “Some jasmine tea, thanks.”
“Coming right up. Dr. Maguire?”
“That’s fine. Two of those.”
“Carter, I want to give you a little background, so you understand the why of it all. What you and Mac do about it, that’s up to you.”
As she spoke, Parker pulled off her gloves, loosened her coat. “I don’t know how much she’s told you, and she’d be royally pissed at me for expanding on whatever she has, but here it is. Her parents divorced when she was four. Her father—and she adored him—walked away from her as easily as he did Linda. He’s a careless man. Not calculating like Linda, just careless. He grew up privileged, and with a nice fat trust fund. That may seem hypocritical coming from me, but—”
“No, it doesn’t. You and Del, your parents, you always contributed. That’s the word for it.”
“Thank you. Geoffrey Elliot just goes where he likes, does as he pleases, and prefers to avoid any sort of upheaval. Linda shoves, pushes, wheedles her way