Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet #2)(82)

"Want a job?" she asked Jack as he helped cover the last row of chairs.

"So absolutely not. I don't know how you do this every weekend."



       
         
       
        

She attached cones holding the palest of pink peonies to selected chairs. "It's never boring. Tink, I've got to run home and change. Guests are arriving."

"We're good here."

"Parker estimates we'll only be about ten minutes late, which is a miracle. There's food for all of you in the kitchen when we're done. I'm back in fifteen. Jack, go have a drink."

"I plan to."

She was back in twelve, having traded her work clothes for a quiet black suit. She pinned boutonnieres while Parker's voice sounded in her headset. "We're a go in the Bride's Suite. Cuing music. Ushers to start escort."

She listened to the countdown as she brushed lapels, joked with the groom. She spotted Parker arranging the parents, and Mac getting into position for shots.

She took a moment, just one, to admire the view outside. The crisp white covers on the chairs served as a perfect backdrop for the flowers. All the greens and pinks, from the palest to the deepest, blooming against the shimmer of tulle and lace.

Then the moment was over as the groom took his place, and the mothers-one teary, the other maybe just a little tipsy on scotch-were escorted to their seats.

She turned to gather the bouquets and pass them out as Parker lined up the ladies.

"You all look so beautiful. Still holding, Jeannie?"

"He's awake, but behaving."

"Maggie, you're just stunning."

"Oh, don't." The bride waved a hand in front of her face. "I didn't think I'd get all choked up, but I'm right on the edge. I'm about to give my new mother-in-law a run for her money."

"One breath in, one breath out," Parker ordered. "Slow and easy."

"Okay. Okay. Parker, if I ever need to wage war, you're my general. Emma, the flowers are . . . Breathe in, breathe out. Daddy."

"Don't you start." He gave her hand a squeeze. "Do you want me to walk you down while I'm blubbering like a baby?"

"Here now." Parker reached under the veil, gently dabbed at Maggie's eyes. "Head up, and smile. Okay, number one, you're on."

"See you on the other side, Mags." Jan, still a bit pale but beaming, started her walk.

"And two . . . Go."

With her job done for the moment, Emma stepped back while Parker ran the show.

"Have to admit," Jack said from beside her, "I didn't think you were going to pull this one off. Not this smooth. I'm not only impressed, I'm very nearly awestruck."

"We've had a lot worse than this." 

"Uh-oh," he said when her eyes filled.

"I know. Sometimes they just hit me. I think it was the way the bride handled herself-crisis by crisis-then started to crumble at her big moment. But she's holding on. Just look at that smile. And look at him look at her." She sighed. "Sometimes they just hit me," she repeated.

"I think you've earned this." Jack held out a glass of wine.

"Oh boy, have I. Thanks."

She hooked her arm through his, tipped her head toward his shoulder. And watched the wedding.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

POST-EVENT, THEY TOOK A MOMENT TO UNWIND IN THE FAMILY parlor. Appreciating every moment, Emma sipped her second glass of wine of the evening.

"No visible hitches." She rolled her shoulders, curled and uncurled her bare toes. "And that's what counts. I expect the wedding party will be telling stories of hangovers, spatting mothers, and baby alert for weeks. But that's the sort of thing that makes every wedding unique."

"I wouldn't have believed anyone could cry, almost without pause, for nearly six hours." Laurel popped a couple of aspirin, chased them down with fizzy water. "You'd think it was her son's funeral instead of his wedding."

"I'm going to have to Photoshop the hell out of the MOG's photos. And even then . . ." Mac shrugged. "I think it's a brave bride who takes on a mother-in-law who literally howled during the I do's."

Tossing back her head, Mac gave a terrifyingly accurate rendition of Mrs. Carstair's wail.

"My head," Laurel muttered. "My head."

From his perch on the arm of the sofa, Carter laughed at Mac even as he gave Laurel's shoulder a comforting pat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but that woman scared me."

"I think part of it was the upcoming grandchild. It's all just too much for her."

"Then somebody should've slipped her a Valium," Laurel said to Emma. "And I'm not really kidding. I kept waiting for her to throw herself on the wedding cake-like it was a pyre."