"The bride's been good to work with."
Comfortable in her pajamas, her long brown hair loose rather than in its work mode of sleek tail or smooth chignon, Parker put on the kettle for tea. One of the perks of running the business out of her home, and of having Laurel living there-with Emma and Parker right on the estate as well-was these late-night visits.
"She knows her mind," Laurel commented, choosing a tool to scallop the edges of the panel. "But she's open to suggestion, and so far hasn't been insane. If she makes it through the next twenty-four that way, she'll definitely earn Vows' coveted Good Bride status."
"They looked happy and relaxed tonight at rehearsal, and that's a good sign."
"Mmm-hmm." Laurel continued the pattern with precisely placed eyelets and dots. "So, again, why aren't you in bed?"
Parker sighed as she heated a little teapot. "I think I was having a moment. I was unwinding with a glass of wine out on my terrace. I could see Mac's place, and Emma's. The lights were on in both houses, and I could smell the gardens. It was so quiet, so pretty. The lights went off-Emma's first, and a little while after, Mac's. I thought about how we're planning Mac's wedding, and that Emma just got engaged. And about all the times we played Wedding Day, the four of us, when we were kids. Now it's real. I sat there in the quiet, and the dark, and found myself wishing my parents could be here to see it. To see what we've done here, and who we are now. I got stuck"-she paused to measure out tea-"between being sad they're gone and being happy because I know they'd be proud of me. Of us."
"I think about them a lot. We all do." Laurel continued to work. "Because they were such an essential part of our lives, and because there are so many memories of them here. So I know what you mean by being stuck."
"They'd get a kick out of Mac and Carter, out of Emma and Jack, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, they would. And what we've done here, Parker? It rocks. They'd get a kick out of that, too."
"I'm lucky you were up working." Parker poured hot water into the pot. "You've settled me down."
"Here to serve. I'll tell you who else is lucky, and that's Friday's Bride. Because, this cake?" She blew stray hair out of her eyes as she nodded smugly. "It kicks major ass. And when I do the crown, angels will weep with joy."
Parker set the pot aside to steep. "Really, Laurel, you need to take more pride in your work."
Laurel grinned. "Screw the tea. I'm nearly done here. Pour me a glass of wine."
IN THE MORNING, AFTER A SOLID six HOURS OF SLEEP, LAUREL got in a quick session at the gym before dressing for the workday. She'd be chained to her kitchen for the bulk of it, but before that routine began, there was the summit meeting that prefaced every event.
Laurel dashed downstairs from her third-floor wing to the main level of the sprawling house, and back to the family kitchen, where Mrs. Grady put a fruit platter together.
"Morning, Mrs. G."
Mrs. Grady arched her eyebrows. "You look feisty."
"Feel feisty. Feel righteous." Laurel fisted both hands, flexed her muscles. "Want coffee. Much."
"Parker's taken the coffee up already. You can take this fruit, and the pastries. Eat some of that fruit. A day shouldn't start with a danish."
"Yes, ma'am. Anyone else here yet?"
"Not yet, but I saw Jack's truck leave a bit ago, and I expect Carter will be along giving me the puppy eyes in hopes of a decent breakfast."
"I'll get out of the way." Laurel grabbed the platters, balancing them with the expertise of the waitress she'd been once upon a time.
She carried them up to the library, which now served as Vows' conference room. Parker sat at the big table, with the coffee service on the breakfront. Her BlackBerry, as always, remained within easy reach. The sleek ponytail left her face unframed, and the crisp white shirt transmitted business mode as she sipped coffee and studied data on her laptop with midnight blue eyes Laurel knew missed nothing.
"Provisions," Laurel announced. She set the trays down, then tucked her chin-length swing of hair behind her ears before she obeyed Mrs. Grady and fixed herself a little bowl of berries. "Missed you in the gym this morning. What time did you get up?"
"Six, which was a good thing, since Saturday afternoon's bride called just after seven. Her father tripped over the cat and may have broken his nose."
"Uh-oh."
"She's worried about him, but nearly equally worried about how he's going to look for the wedding, and in the photographs. I'm going to call the makeup artist to see what she thinks can be done."