one more rose than her friend?”
Emma blanked for a moment, then remembered telling him about the bouquets. “Ten more. She’ll bow to me before I’m done with her. Yes, Parker, yes, I’m on my way.” Even as she spoke, her beeper sounded. “Now what? Can you read that? I can’t get to it while I’m driving. It’s hooked to my skirt, right under the jacket on your side.”
He lifted the hem of the jacket, and his fingers brushed her skin just above her waist as he tilted the beeper. She thought, uh-oh, and kept her eyes straight ahead.
“It says DTMB! Mac.”
“DTMB?” His knuckles continued to rest there, just above her waist. Very distracting. “Ah . . . Death to Monster Bride.”
“Any answer? Suggestions on the method maybe?”
She managed a smile. “Not at this time. Thanks.”
“Nice jacket,” he said and smoothed it back into place.
She stopped in front of the house. “If you help me haul all this up, I won’t tell Parker or give you grief when you sneak off to the Grand Hall for a beer before the wedding.”
“That’s a deal.”
With her, he carried boxes into the foyer. He stopped a moment, took a survey. “You do good work. If she doesn’t bow to you, she’s a bigger idiot than I already think she is.”
“Shh!” She stifled a laugh, rolled her eyes. “You don’t know who’s wandering around from the immediate family or wedding party at this stage.”
“She knows I can’t stand her. I told her.”
“Oh, Jack.” She did laugh now as she hurried up the steps. “Don’t do or say anything to set her off. Consider the Wrath of Parker before you speak.”
Emma balanced the box she carried and opened the door to the Bride’s Suite.
“There you are. Finally! Emmaline, really, how am I supposed to take my formal portraits without my bouquet? And now my nerves are just shot ! You know I wanted to see it early enough so you could make changes if I wanted them. Do you know what time it is? Do you?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you said. I’m just dazzled. Whitney, you look absolutely spectacular.”
That much, at least, was true. With miles of skirt, a universe of pearls and beads sparkling on the train, the bodice, and her expertly low-lighted blond hair swept up and crowned with a tiara, Monster Bride was magnificent.
“Thank you, but I’ve been a wreck worrying about the bouquet. If it’s not perfect—”
“I think it’s exactly what you hoped for.” Carefully, Emma lifted the massive cascade of white roses from the box. She did a mental C-jump when the bride’s eyes popped wide, but kept her tone professional. “I tweaked the temperature so the roses would just be partially open. And just hints of green and the silver beads to set off the blooms. I know you talked about trails of silver ribbons, but I really think that would take away from the flowers, and the shape. But I can add it in no time if you still want it.”
“The silver would add a sparkle, but . . . Maybe you’re right.” Whitney reached out to take the bouquet.
Nearby the mother of the bride pressed her palms together as if in prayer and lifted them to her lips.
Always a good sign.
Whitney turned, studied herself in the full-length mirror. And smiled. Emma stepped beside her to whisper in her ear. And the smile widened.
“You can count them later,” Emma suggested. “Now I’ll turn you over to Mac.”
“Let’s try between the windows over here, Whitney. The light’s wonderful.” Mac gave Emma a thumbs-up behind the bride’s back.
“Now, ladies,” Emma said, “it’s your turn.”
She distributed bouquets, corsages, set out the holding vases, then put the MOG in charge of the pomanders and flower girls.
She stepped out again, glanced at Jack. “Whew.”
“The ‘maybe you’re right’? From her, that’s a bow.”
“Understood. I can take it from here. Go get that beer. Carter’s around here somewhere. Corrupt him.”
“I try, but he’s a hard nut to
Emma blanked for a moment, then remembered telling him about the bouquets. “Ten more. She’ll bow to me before I’m done with her. Yes, Parker, yes, I’m on my way.” Even as she spoke, her beeper sounded. “Now what? Can you read that? I can’t get to it while I’m driving. It’s hooked to my skirt, right under the jacket on your side.”
He lifted the hem of the jacket, and his fingers brushed her skin just above her waist as he tilted the beeper. She thought, uh-oh, and kept her eyes straight ahead.
“It says DTMB! Mac.”
“DTMB?” His knuckles continued to rest there, just above her waist. Very distracting. “Ah . . . Death to Monster Bride.”
“Any answer? Suggestions on the method maybe?”
She managed a smile. “Not at this time. Thanks.”
“Nice jacket,” he said and smoothed it back into place.
She stopped in front of the house. “If you help me haul all this up, I won’t tell Parker or give you grief when you sneak off to the Grand Hall for a beer before the wedding.”
“That’s a deal.”
With her, he carried boxes into the foyer. He stopped a moment, took a survey. “You do good work. If she doesn’t bow to you, she’s a bigger idiot than I already think she is.”
“Shh!” She stifled a laugh, rolled her eyes. “You don’t know who’s wandering around from the immediate family or wedding party at this stage.”
“She knows I can’t stand her. I told her.”
“Oh, Jack.” She did laugh now as she hurried up the steps. “Don’t do or say anything to set her off. Consider the Wrath of Parker before you speak.”
Emma balanced the box she carried and opened the door to the Bride’s Suite.
“There you are. Finally! Emmaline, really, how am I supposed to take my formal portraits without my bouquet? And now my nerves are just shot ! You know I wanted to see it early enough so you could make changes if I wanted them. Do you know what time it is? Do you?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you said. I’m just dazzled. Whitney, you look absolutely spectacular.”
That much, at least, was true. With miles of skirt, a universe of pearls and beads sparkling on the train, the bodice, and her expertly low-lighted blond hair swept up and crowned with a tiara, Monster Bride was magnificent.
“Thank you, but I’ve been a wreck worrying about the bouquet. If it’s not perfect—”
“I think it’s exactly what you hoped for.” Carefully, Emma lifted the massive cascade of white roses from the box. She did a mental C-jump when the bride’s eyes popped wide, but kept her tone professional. “I tweaked the temperature so the roses would just be partially open. And just hints of green and the silver beads to set off the blooms. I know you talked about trails of silver ribbons, but I really think that would take away from the flowers, and the shape. But I can add it in no time if you still want it.”
“The silver would add a sparkle, but . . . Maybe you’re right.” Whitney reached out to take the bouquet.
Nearby the mother of the bride pressed her palms together as if in prayer and lifted them to her lips.
Always a good sign.
Whitney turned, studied herself in the full-length mirror. And smiled. Emma stepped beside her to whisper in her ear. And the smile widened.
“You can count them later,” Emma suggested. “Now I’ll turn you over to Mac.”
“Let’s try between the windows over here, Whitney. The light’s wonderful.” Mac gave Emma a thumbs-up behind the bride’s back.
“Now, ladies,” Emma said, “it’s your turn.”
She distributed bouquets, corsages, set out the holding vases, then put the MOG in charge of the pomanders and flower girls.
She stepped out again, glanced at Jack. “Whew.”
“The ‘maybe you’re right’? From her, that’s a bow.”
“Understood. I can take it from here. Go get that beer. Carter’s around here somewhere. Corrupt him.”
“I try, but he’s a hard nut to
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