Happy Ever After, Page 27

  “Sometimes they say light snow, and we get dumped on. What if—”

  “We’re not going to get dumped on.” As if daring the weather gods, Parker bared her teeth. “We’re going to get a couple pretty, fluffy inches in the morning for a gorgeous December evening wedding. Go get ready for rehearsal.”

  “I’m afraid of rehearsal. My voice is going to squeak. I think I’m getting a zit right in the middle of my chin. I’m going to trip coming down the aisle. It’s okay if Carter trips. People expect it. But—”

  “Your voice is not going to squeak, you’re not going to get a zit, and you’re certainly not going to trip.” Parker thumbed out Tums. For herself, and for Mac. “Do I know what I’m doing?”

  “Yes, you do, but I’m—”

  “Trust me. It’s going to be perfect and beautiful and the happiest day of your life.”

  “I’m being a pain in the ass.”

  “No, honey, you’re being a bride. Now go take a nice, warm bath.You’ve got an hour.”

  “Carter isn’t nervous.” Mac narrowed her eyes in a scowl. “I could hate him for that.”

  “Mackensie.” Parker turned from the computer. “I was in the kitchen this morning when Mrs. G made him sit down and eat some breakfast. He put maple syrup in his coffee.”

  “He did?” She threw up her arms in a cheer.“He is nervous. I feel better. I want him to be nervous, too, and I want his ears to blush the way they do, and I want . . . Since I’m the bride it can be all about what I want, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. So, I want to thank you for temporarily lifting my mother’s banishment.”

  “Mac—”

  “No, I mean it. Let me just vent this out, and it’ll be over.”

  “Okay.Vent away.”

  “It’s important she be here tomorrow, even though she’s a massive pain in my ass, and everyone else’s.”

  “She’s still your mother.”

  “Yeah, and that’s for better or worse, too. Anyhow, I know you’ve talked to her about it, and the rules of the road.”

  “It took one brief phone call. It’s nothing.”

  “One brief, unpleasant phone call.”

  Now Parker smiled. “Not for me. Did she give you grief over it?”

  “She tried. She failed. Her power is diminished in that area, which pisses her off.” Mac’s dimples fluttered. “I’m small enough to enjoy that.”

  “I’d say you’d be stupid if you didn’t.”

  “Good. So I’m not stupid.” On a breath, Mac folded her hands in her lap. “But I want her here because we’ve been through this enough to know you don’t want to look back on the biggest day of your life and have a single regret. And hell, since my father apparently can’t work the wedding into his busy schedule of parties and cruising the Ionian Sea, I should have one parent here.”

  “We know, even though it’s our job to supply them, a wedding isn’t just about the lights and the music and the show. It’s about the feelings.Your family’s going to be there, Mac.”

  “Yeah.” Mac reached out, gripped hands with Parker.“The one that counts.”

  “And more, Carter is going to be there, waiting for you, looking at you, promising you.”

  “Oh God, yeah. I’m so ready. Nervous, but so ready.”

  “Go take that bath, soak out the nerves.”

  “On it.” Mac got up, started out.“Parks? I love him so much it feels like there’s more inside me, a better me in there than there used to be. I’m not nervous about being married to him. I’m just nervous about, well, the show. Forgetting my lines or not hitting my cue.”

  “Leave all that to me. Just think about being married to Carter.”

  “That I can do.” She dashed back, caught Parker in a hug. “I love you so much, too.”

  As she hugged, Parker reached over for a tissue, put it in Mac’s hand. “Thanks. I’m not going to cry tomorrow, so I’m planning to cry a lot tonight.”

  “That’s a very good plan. Make sure to seal your mascara so it doesn’t run.”

  Twenty minutes later, Parker dashed downstairs to check with Laurel.

  And stopped as her breath caught.

  “Oh, Laurel.”

  “She’s demanding to be called Super-Laurel,” Del told Parker as he sat at the kitchen counter munching a cookie.

  “And who could blame her? She is Super-Laurel. It’s the most beautiful cake ever created.”

  “Not done yet,” Laurel mumbled, and continued to place sugar-paste flowers.

  “Carter’s is.” Del jerked a thumb toward the remodeled mudroom that now served as Laurel’s auxiliary kitchen.

  Parker went in, opened the cooler. “I love it! It’s even better than the sketch. The open book, the scene from As You Like It. I swear it looks like you could turn the page.”

  “Try it and die.” Laurel rolled her aching shoulders and glanced over as Parker came back. “Oh God, don’t cry.”

  “I’m following Mac’s plan.” She pulled tissues out of her pocket. “Cry tonight, stay dry tomorrow. I have gel masks for all of us chilling in the main fridge so we won’t be puffy tomorrow.”

  “Thank God,” Del said, “I was really worried I’d have puffy eyes.”

  “Take your cookie and go check on Carter,” Parker ordered. “And you can call or run over to Emma’s, tell her she’s not allowed to be late. Have Jack carry her over if necessary.”

  “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.”

  “I thought about letting you sneak into my room tonight,” Laurel said.“But you didn’t buy me a fabulous new pair of shoes.”

  “Mal’s going to pay for that, for screwing the curve for the rest of us.”

  When they were alone, Laurel glanced down at Parker’s feet. “They really are fabulous. Everything else okay?”

  “It’s fine. I got tomorrow’s forecast, and—”

  “I’m not talking about Mac’s wedding, which is a change from most conversations this week. I’m talking about you and Malcolm.”

  “That’s fine, too.” She opened the refrigerator for a bottle of water, then sighed when she turned back to see Laurel staring at her.“No, he hasn’t mentioned the fact that I told him I loved him, and neither have I. And no, he hasn’t reciprocated. I’m fine with that.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m trying to be fine with that, and mostly succeeding. Plus there’s too much to do to think about it.” She smoothed at the hair she’d coiled into a sleek twist for the rehearsal party. “We’re in a good place, and that’s ... fine. Don’t make me say fine again. Let’s just focus on Mac and Carter.”

  “Okay.Where is the blushing bride?”

  “Taking a bath to soothe her nerves. She needs to start getting dressed,” Parker realized as she checked her watch. “We’re going to start in—”

  “Parker, relax. We’re having the rehearsal dinner here.You can ease up on the timetable, at least a little. Does she know Linda’s not coming tonight?”

  “Yes.And I think she’s relieved.We talked about tomorrow, and she’s glad her mother’s coming to the wedding. So, tomorrow’s soon enough for Linda.”

  “What about—” Laurel broke off as Malcolm came in.“I wear a seven medium, just like Parker. Just in case.”

  “I only buy shoes for women I’m sleeping with.” He grabbed a cookie from the plate on the counter. “If I slept with you, Del would get pissed off.”

  “He’s so narrow-minded.”

  “Did you—”

  “Picked up and delivered to Carter’s, as instructed.”

  The weight on Parker’s shoulder slipped off. “Okay. Thank you.

  Thank you.” She took his face, kissed him.

  “He’s here.” Laurel stepped away from the cake. “You pulled it off.”

  With a hand on her hip, Parker angled into a pose. “You doubted me?”

  “I’m so ashamed. You can be Super-Parker. I need to go change my shoes, which unfortunately aren’t tho
se,” she said with another envious glance at Parker’s feet.“Freshen my makeup, and so on. I’ll get Mac moving if she’s not.You did good, Parker.” She grabbed Parker, kissed her hard on the mouth.

  “Could you do that again?” Mal asked. “In slow motion?”

  “Perv.” But tears sparkled in Laurel’s eyes as she turned and laid one on him.“She said again and again it didn’t matter, but it did.” She sniffled, smiled at Parker. “We know it did. Back in fifteen.”

  “Everyone’s getting the crying out of the way tonight.”

  “Thank God. I’m having a hard time holding it in.”

  “Funny guy.” She drilled a finger in his belly.“I need to check on the caterers, and the Parlor, and the Grand Hall, and—”

  He grabbed another cookie and went with her.

  THERE WAS ALWAYS A BUZZ IN THE AIR BEFORE AN EVENT, MAL thought, but not like this buzz.This one almost shocked the skin. The photographer Mac had trusted for her wedding already worked with her assistant, getting candids as Carter’s family came in and the noise level rose.

  He watched Parker move among them, offering drinks, crouching down to talk to the kids. In short order the big foyer, the Parlor vibrated with people and movement. Flowers—he imagined they were a mild prelude to tomorrow’s—perfumed the air.

  He tried the champagne and glanced over as Parker talked with his airport pickup.As he started toward them, Mac came racing down the staircase.

  “I’m not late!” She laughed, searched Carter out of the crowd. Her smile only beamed brighter. “I just wanted to—”

  Malcolm saw her face change, and for a moment the utter shock on it made him wonder if Parker had made a mistake.

  Then her eyes welled. “Dad?”

  Geoffrey Elliot, handsome, charming, and absent for most of his daughter’s life, stepped forward, opened his arms. “Baby.”

  She ran into them, pressed her face to his shoulder.“I thought you couldn’t make it.”

  “As if I’d miss my baby girl’s wedding.” He drew her back, kissed her on both damp cheeks. “Aren’t you a pretty picture?”

  “Dad.” She laid her head on his shoulder, found Parker, blinked her eyes clear. She mouthed thank you.

  No mistake, Malcolm thought, and snagging a second glass of champagne, took it to her. “Nice work, Legs.”

  She took the champagne and pulled a tissue out of her pocket to dry her own eyes. “It’s what I do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IT SNOWED.AND IT WAS FLUFFY AND BEAUTIFUL. BY NOON PARKER had the parking lot and walkways cleared, and the bride was stretched out upstairs, enjoying the hot stone massage her friends had given her as a wedding-day gift.

  The entrance and the staircase both glittered and gleamed with the work Emma and her team had completed. Massive pillar candles flanked the wide doorway of the Grand Hall in groups of three, with masses and masses of richly hued flowers at their creamy white bases.

  At dusk, miles of lights strung on the exterior of the house and on the small forest of miniature pines lining the walk in their silver pots would flicker and glow. Candles would shine in every window where wreaths of flowers hung, trailing long white ribbons.

  The house, Parker thought as she circled it and checked every detail, was a celebration that would sparkle and shimmer through the night.

  Emma had outdone herself, and with the added bonus of snow, guests would wander through that winter wonderland, then step through the garland-draped portico where bride-white poinsettias stacked into fanciful trees to flank the staircase.

  She ran the morning schedule like a seasoned general preparing for the most important campaign of her career, zipping from room to room, floor to floor, in running shoes, praising, pep-talking, issuing orders.

  “You’re going to wear yourself out before this gets started.” Del stopped her forward motion with his hands on her shoulders. “Take a breath. I thought Monica from the bridal shop was subbing for you today.”

  “She and Susan will be here in a half hour. What’s Carter’s status?”

  “A-okay, Captain.”

  “Seriously, Del, does he need anything? If you guys stayed up half the night boozing and playing poker—”

  “We had him tucked into bed by twelve thirty, as instructed. The rest of us stayed up boozing and playing poker.”

  She narrowed her eyes, noted his were clear and rested.

  “Go check on him. I don’t want him over here until three thirty.”

  “His best man has it under control. Bob’s as bad as you with lists and time clocks. He’ll go by the studio, pick up our groom at three fifteen.”

  “Then go be useful. Emma’s team is working on the Solarium, with the second unit setting up for dinner.”

  “Jack’s on Emma’s detail.”

  “Jack’s here? What about Malcolm?”

  “He’s hanging with Carter. We figured somebody should, in case he makes a run for it.”

  “Very funny. But it’s good somebody’s keeping Carter company. I was going to run over and check on him myself, but if Malcolm’s with him, I’ll go check on Mac instead.You can go tell Laurel she’s got an hour and twenty minutes, then she needs to be up in the Bride’s Suite.”

  “If she’s in the middle of something, she could come at me with a pastry cutter.”

  “Those are the chances we take.”

  MALCOLM SPRAWLED IN A CHAIR WITH A COKE AND A BAG OF CHIPS and caught a motocross race on ESPN.

  Carter paced.

  He’d gotten used to the pattern. Carter paced, sat and stared at the TV, checked his watch. Got up and paced.

  “Having second thoughts, Professor? I’ve got orders to get a rope if you try to run.”

  “What? No. Ha-ha. No. Is it really only one thirty? Maybe the battery’s dead.” He frowned at his watch, tapped the face. “What time do you have?”

  Malcolm held up his naked wrist.“Time for you to relax.Want a shot of something?”

  “No. No. No. Maybe. No. It’s just . . . It feels like I’ve entered another dimension where five minutes is equivalent to an hour and a half.We should’ve gone for an afternoon wedding.We’d be getting married right now if we’d gone for an afternoon wedding.”

  “In a hurry?”

  “I guess I am.” He stared blindly.“Some days I don’t know how all this happened, and others it’s like it’s always been. I’m just—it’s—we’re—”

  “Spit it out.”

  “When you find somebody you love, all the way through, and she loves you—even with your weaknesses, your flaws, everything starts to click into place. And if you can talk to her, and she listens, if she makes you laugh, and makes you think, makes you want, makes you see who you really are, and who you are is better, just better with her, you’d be crazy not to want to spend the rest of your life with her.”

  He stopped with a sheepish smile. “I’m rambling.”

  “No.” As the words had something turning around inside him, Malcolm shook his head. “It’s nice for you, Carter.You’re a lucky bastard.”

  “Today, I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

  Malcolm switched off the TV. “Get some cards.We’ll play some gin, see if that luck translates.”

  “Sure.” He looked at his watch again. “Is it really only one thirty-five?”

  MAC STEPPED INTO THE BRIDE’S SUITE, STOPPED, DID A HAPPY DANCE. “Look, look, it’s mine. Today, it’s mine. Champagne, and the pretty fruit, the flowers, the candles. Oh, Em, the flowers.”

  “Nothing but the best for our brides. It is Vows, after all.”

  “Champagne first.” Laurel crossed over to pour.

  “Half a glass for me,” Parker said.“I still have a few things to—”

  “Parker, no.” Mac grabbed her hands. “From right now until the last dance, you’re my friend, one of my wonderful, beautiful, very-much-needed maids of honor. Monica’s got the rest. I need you with me—and the bride rules at Vows.”

  “All ri
ght. Fill me up, Laurel.”

  “Karen, maybe you could get a wide shot of—”

  “Uh-uh.” Parker wagged a finger. “If I’m one of your MOH, you are strictly the bride, not the photographer.”

  “We’ve got you covered, Mac.” Karen winked at her, changed lenses.

  “I know, sorry.” She took a deep breath, and a glass of champagne. “Okay.To Wedding Day.This time it’s real.”

  After the first sip, Mac held up a hand.“And one more because I might forget later. Emma, thank you for making it all so beautiful, and Laurel, thank you for a truly spectacular cake. And Parks, for all the details, the little and the big, thanks so much. But mostly, just thanks for being mine.”

  “Okay, stop. Drink.” Laurel blinked.“There’s no crying today.”

  “Maybe just a little.We haven’t had makeup yet.”

  As Emma slipped an arm around Mac, Parker passed out tissues.

  Then the door opened, and Mrs. Grady stood grinning. “Hair and makeup’s coming up.”

  “All right, tears off,” Parker ordered. “Let’s get to work.”

  She’d always enjoyed this part, even though she’d only come in and gone out as needed. Now Parker sat under the hairdresser’s hands, a glass of champagne in hers, watching the makeup artist work on Mac.

  A new perspective, she mused, enjoying the way Carter’s mother hurried in to chat, to laugh, to cry a little, and pleased with how efficiently Monica or Susan checked in. She had to order herself not to get up when Monica reported the groom and his party were in the house, but settled back, assured herself everything would go according to plan.

  And it did.

  On schedule, she, Emma, and Laurel changed into their gowns. Mac had been right on the colors, the tones, she thought. The deep pumpkin added a glow to Laurel’s skin while the russet highlighted Emma’s dusky beauty. And the dark gold suited her, she decided.

  Together, they looked like shimmering fall flowers.

  “We rock,” Laurel declared.

  “You guys look amazing.” In her corset and garters, Mac circled her finger so they’d do a turn. “Oh yeah, just amazing. And oh, Mrs. G, look at you.”

  “Not bad for an old broad.” Mrs. Grady did a turn on her own in her midnight blue gown.

  “Your turn,” Parker announced.

  “Oh boy, oh boy.”