Bride Quartet Collection (44 page)

“Don’t these kids have parents?” he asked as he followed her toward the kitchen.

“Yes, and both are in the wedding party. They’re brother and sister, twins. The BA with them is Mom. The dad’s a groomsman, so you can take the RB up in ten or fifteen. Just give everything a few more minutes to smooth out. Once I get the FG settled, I need to get back out and finish dressing the outside areas. So—”

She broke off, fixed a big, happy smile on her face before she pushed into the kitchen.

In an hour, the bride and attendants were beautified, the groom and his men polished. While Mac organized the separate parties for formal photos, and Parker kept the respective mothers at a distance, Emma finished the outside decor.

“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

P
OST-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.”

“Oh man, what a shot that would’ve been.” Mac sighed. “Regrets.”

“Carter, Jack.” Parker lifted her bottle of water. “You were a huge help. If I’d known the MOG was a wailer, I’d have taken steps beforehand, but she was fine at rehearsal. Even bubbly.”

“I bet someone slipped her drugs,” Laurel said.

“What sort of steps?” Jack wondered.

“Oh, there are all sorts of tricks of the trade.” Parker’s smile hinted at secrets. “I may not have been able to keep her from blubbering all during the ceremony, but I’d have kept her from upsetting the bride and groom during dressing. If Pete and Maggie hadn’t kept their heads, we’d have had a disaster on our hands. Keeping the overly emotional types busy, giving them little assignments usually works.”

“I know that’s what kept me from crying,” Jack told her.

“We’ll have to muddle through without the reserve troops tomorrow.” Mac gave Carter a friendly kick from her chair. “They’re deserting us for the Yankees.”

“And speaking of tomorrow, I’m going up to fall flat so I can get up for it.” Laurel rose. “ ’Night, kids.”

“There’s our cue. Let’s pack it in, Professor. God, my feet are killing me.”

Carter turned his back, gestured to it. With a laugh, Mac boosted herself on. “Now this is love,” she said, planting a noisy kiss on the top of his head. “Him for the offer, and me for trusting Professor Grace not to trip and drop me. See you tomorrow. Giddyup!”

“God, they’re cute.” Emma smiled after them. “Even Scary Linda can’t dull their shine.”

“She called Mac this morning,” Parker told her.

“Hell.”

“Told Mac she’d changed her mind, and expected Mac and Carter to be at her wedding, in Italy, next week. The usual drama and guilt trip when Mac told her it wasn’t possible for her to fly to Italy on such short notice.”

“Mac didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“She didn’t want to get into it with the event. Linda, of course, called just as Mac was getting her gear packed for the morning wedding. But the point is, you’re right, she can’t dull the shine. Before Carter, a call like that would’ve sent Mac into the blue. It wasn’t pleasant, but she got through it, set it aside.”

“The Power of Carter defeats the Power of Linda. I owe him a big kiss.”

“I’ll see him tomorrow if you want to give it to me,” Jack suggested.

She leaned over, gave him a prim peck.

“Kinda stingy.”

“He belongs to a friend. Okay, getting up, going home.”

“Eight o’clock briefing,” Parker reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She smothered a yawn. “How do you feel about piggybacks?” she asked Jack.

“I like this way better.” In a deliberately dramatic move, he swept her up.

“Wow. Me, too. ’Night, Parker.”

“Good night.” And just a little wistfully, Parker watched Jack Rhett Butler Emma out of the parlor.

“Great exit.” Delighted, Emma pressed her lips to Jack’s cheek. “You don’t have to carry me all the way back.”

“You think I’m going to let Carter show me up? You know nothing about true competition. It’s good to see Mac look so happy,” he added. “I’ve been around a few times when Linda did a number on her. Tough to watch.”

“I know.” Idly, Emma fluttered her fingers through Jack’s sun-streaked hair. “She’s the only person I actually and actively dislike. I used to try to find excuses for her, then I realized there just aren’t any.”

“She hit on me once.”

Emma’s head jerked up. “What? Mac’s
mother
hit on you?”

“Long time ago. Actually there was another time not all that long ago. So that makes two hits. First time I was still in college, spending a couple of weeks here during the summer break. We were all going to a party, and I said I’d swing by and pick up Mac. She didn’t have a car back then. So her mother came to the door, and gave me the kind of once-over you don’t generally get from mothers, then sort of backed me into a corner until Mac got down. It was . . . interesting, and yeah, scary. Scary Linda. Good name.”

“What were you, twenty? She should be ashamed. Arrested. Something. Now I dislike her more. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I survived. But if she tries it again, I’m counting on you to protect me. And a lot better than you did with Scary Kellye.”

“One of these days I’m going to tell her what I think of her. Linda, not Kellye. And if she actually shows up at Mac’s wedding and tries to pull something, I might get violent.”

“Can I watch?”

Emma laid her head back down on his shoulder. “I’m calling my mother tomorrow, just to tell her she’s wonderful.” She kissed his cheek again. “And so are you. This is the first time I’ve ever been carried through the moonlight.”

“Actually, it’s overcast.”

She smiled. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

J
ACK STUDIED HIS HOLE CARDS. POKER NIGHT HAD BEEN GOOD to him, so far, but the pair of deuces didn’t look promising. He checked, waited while the bet walked around the table. When it got to Doctor Rod, he tossed in twenty-five. Beside him, Mal folded. Del tossed in his chips. Landscape Frank did the same. Lawyer Henry folded.

Jack debated briefly, and coughed up the twenty-five.

Del burned the top card, then turned over the flop. Ace of clubs, ten of diamonds, four of diamonds.

Possible flush, possible straight. And he had a crap pair of deuces.

He checked.

Rod went another twenty-five.

Carter folded, Del and Frank met the bet.

Stupid, Jack thought, but he just had a feeling. Sometimes feelings were worth twenty-five.

He added his chips to the pot.

Del buried a card, turned the next up. Two of diamonds.

Now that was interesting. Still, knowing how Rod played, he checked.

Rod bet another twenty-five, with Del raising it twenty-five more.

Frank folded. Jack thought about trip deuces. But he still had a feeling.

He tossed in the fifty.

“Glad it didn’t scare you off. I’m looking to score here. Need to sweeten the pot.” Rod grinned. “I just got engaged.”

Del glanced over. “Seriously? We’re dropping like flies.”

“Congratulations,” Carter said.

“Thanks. Raise it back fifty more. I figured, what the hell am I waiting for? So I took the jump. Shell’s all about taking a look at your sister’s place. Maybe you can get me the Poker Buddy discount.”

“Not a chance.” Del counted out chips. “But I’ll see your fifty. Seeing as it’s probably the end of poker and cigars for you.”

“Hell, Shell’s not that way. Bet’s to you, Jack.”

Pocket aces, probably. Rod never bluffed, or he sucked at it so wide you saw through it like a plate glass window. Pocket aces or a couple of pretty diamonds. Still . . .

“I’ll stick. Consider it an engagement present.”

“Appreciate it. We’re looking at next June. Shell wants the big splash. I figured, hey, we’ll just fly down to some island over the winter, get some sun, get some surf, get married. But she wants the big deal.”

“And so it begins,” Mal said in funereal tones.

“You’re having the big deal, right, Carter?”

“Mac’s in the business. They do a great job. Make it really special. Personalized.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Mal said to Rod. “You won’t have any say in it anyway. Just learn to repeat ‘sure, baby’ whenever she asks if you like something, want something, will do something.”

“A lot you know. You’ve never been there.”

“Nearly was. I didn’t say ‘sure, baby’ enough.” Mal examined the tip of his cigar. “Fortunately.”

“I’m going to like being married.” Rod nudged his glasses back up his nose. “Settled in, settled down. I guess you’re heading in that direction, Jack.”

“What?”

“You’ve been tight with the hot florist for a while now. Off the market.”

Del clamped his cigar in his teeth. “Are we playing poker, or should we start talking about where Rod’s going to register? Three players in for the river.”

Del turned over the last card, but Jack was too busy staring at Rod to notice.

“My bet. And I’m all in.”

“That’s interesting, Rod.” Expression bland, Del puffed on his cigar. “I’ll cover it. How about it, Jack? You sticking or folding?”

“What?”

“Bet’s to you, brother.”

“Right.” Off the market? What did that
mean
? He took a slow sip of beer, ordered himself to focus. And saw the river card was the deuce of hearts.

“I’ll call.”

“I got myself three bullets.”

“And a GSW,” Del told him, flipping his cards over. “Because I’ve got two sparkling diamonds, just like the one you put on your sweetheart’s finger. King high flush.”

“Son of a bitch. I figured you for the tens.”

“Figured wrong. Jack?”

“What?”

“Jesus, Jack, show your cards or toss them in.”

“Sorry.” He shook himself back. “Real sorry about the GSW and the sparkles. But I’ve got these two little deuces, that add up to four of a kind. I believe that’s my pot.”

“You pulled a fourth deuce in the fucking river?” Rod shook his head. “You’re one lucky bastard.”

“Yeah. One lucky bastard.”

A
FTER THE GAME, WHEN JACK HAD THE WINNER’S SHARE OF everyone’s fifty-dollar entry fee in his pocket, he lingered with Del on the back deck.

“Since you’re having another beer, you’re figuring on flopping here?”

“Thinking about it,” Jack said.

“You make the coffee in the morning.”

“I’ve got an early meeting, so the coffee’s going on about six.”

“Fine. I’ve got a divorce deposition. Man, I hate it when a friend pressures me into handling a divorce. I hate fucking di vorce cases.”

“What friend?”

“You don’t know her. We dated off and on some back in high school. She ended up marrying this guy, moving to New Haven about five years ago. Two kids.”

With a shake of his head he took a short pull of his beer. “Now they’ve decided they can’t stand the sight of each other, and she’s moved back here, staying with her parents until she figures out what the hell she wants to do. He’s pissed because she wants to live back here and it complicates visitation.” He tipped the bottle to the left. “She’s pissed because she put her career on hold to take the Mommy Track.” Then tipped it to the right. “He didn’t appreciate her enough, she didn’t understand the pressure he was under. The usual.”

“I thought you weren’t going to handle any more divorces.”

“A woman whose breasts you’ve once fondled comes into your office asking for help, it’s tough to say no.”

“That’s true. It doesn’t happen often in my line of work, but it’s true.”

Del shot him a smirk over another sip of beer. “Maybe I’ve just fondled more breasts than you have.”

“We could have a contest.”

“If you can remember all the breasts you’ve had in your hands, you haven’t had enough of them.”

Jack laughed, tipped back in his chair. “We should go to Vegas.”

“For the breasts?”

“For . . . Vegas. A couple of days at the casinos, followed by a titty bar. So, yes, breasts would be involved. Just hang out for a couple days.”

“You hate Vegas.”

“
Hate
’s a strong word. No, better, we could go to St. Martin or St. Barts. Something. Play the tables, scope the beach. Go deep-sea fishing.”

Del’s eyebrows rose. “You want to fish? To my knowledge you’ve never so much as held a fishing rod.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“Itchy feet?”

“Just thinking about getting away for a few days. Summer’s coming. I got locked in last winter with work, and had to cut the week at Vail down to three days. So we can make up for it.”

“I could probably stretch a long weekend.”

“Good. We’ll do that.” Satisfied, Jack took another pull on his beer. “Weird about Rod.”