Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet #2)(112)

And she wasn't going to think about it now. She might as well enjoy the moment, and this ritual Parker, in her Parker way, had arranged.

Parker and Emma might be going to prom at the Academy while she and Mac went to theirs at the public high school, but they had this time together, getting dressed and made-up. Downstairs Parker's and Emma's parents hung out, and there'd be dozens of pictures, and "oh, look at our girls!" hugs, and probably some shiny eyes.

Mac's mother was too self-involved to care about her daughter's senior prom, which, Linda being Linda, could only be a good thing. And her own parents? Well, they were too steeped in their own lives, their own problems, for it to matter where she was or what she did tonight.

She was used to it. Had even come to prefer it.

"Just the fairy dust sparkles," Mac decided, tipping her head from side to side to judge. "It's kind of Tinkerbelly. In a cool way."

"I think you're right." Parker, her straight-as-rain brown hair a glossy waterfall down her back, nodded. "It's waif with an edge. What do you think, Em?"

"I think we need to play up the eyes more, go dramatic." Emma's eyes, a deep, dreamy brown, narrowed in thought. "I can do this."

"Have at it." Mac shrugged. "But don't take forever, okay? I still have to set up for our group shot."

"We're on schedule." Parker checked her watch. "We've still got thirty minutes before . . ." She turned, caught sight of Laurel. "Hey. You look awesome!"

"Oh, you really do!" Emma clapped her hands together. "I knew that was the dress. The shimmery pink makes your eyes even bluer." 

"I guess."

"Need one more thing." Parker hurried to her dresser, opened a drawer on her jewelry box. "This hair clip."

Laurel, a slim girl in shimmery pink, her sun-shot hair done-at Emma's insistence-in long, loose sausage curls, shrugged. "Whatever."

Parker held it against Laurel's hair at different angles. "Cheer up," she ordered. "You're going to have fun."

God, get over yourself, Laurel! "I know. Sorry. It'd be more fun if the four of us were going to the same dance, especially since we all look seriously awesome."

"Yeah, it would." Parker decided to draw some of the curls from the sides to clip them in the back. "But we'll meet up after and party. When we're done we'll come back here and tell each other everything. Here, take a look."

She turned Laurel to the mirror, and the girls studied themselves and each other.

"I do look great," Laurel said and made Parker laugh.

After the most perfunctory of knocks, the door opened. Mrs. Grady, the Browns' longtime housekeeper, put her hands on her hips to take a survey.

"You'll do," she said, "which you should after all this fuss. Finish up with it and get yourselves downstairs for pictures. You." She pointed a finger at Laurel. "I need a word with you, young lady."

"What did I do?" Laurel demanded, looking from friend to friend as Mrs. Grady strode away. "I didn't do anything." But since Mrs. G's word was law, Laurel rushed after her.

In the family sitting room, Mrs. G turned, arms folded. Lecture mode, Laurel thought as her heart tripped. And she cast her mind back looking for an infraction that might have earned her one from the woman who'd been more of a mother to her than her own through her teenage years.

"So," Mrs. Grady began as Laurel hurried in, "I guess you think you're all grown up now."

"I-"

"Well, you're not. But you're getting there. The four of you've been running around here since you were in diapers. Some of that's going to change, with all of you going your own ways. At least for a time. Birds tell me your way's to New York and that fancy baking school."

Her heart took another trip, then suffered the pinprick of a deflated dream. "No, I'm, ah, keeping my job at the restaurant and I'm going to try to take some courses at the-"

"No, you're not." Again, Mrs. G pointed a finger. "Now, a girl your age in New York City best be smart and best be careful. And from what I'm told, if you want to make it at that school you have to work hard. It's more than making pretty frostings and cookies."

"It's one of the best, but-"

"Then you'll be one of the best." Mrs. G reached into her pocket. She pulled out a check to Laurel. "That'll cover the first semester, the tuition, a decent place to live, and enough food to keep body and soul together. You make good use of it, girl, or you'll answer to me. If you do what I expect you're capable of, we'll talk about the next term when the time comes."

Stunned, Laurel stared at the check in her hand. "You can't-I can't-"