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“We need to clear this up first. Is this a gift or a token?” Emma gestured.
“What the hell is it?”
“See, token.You never have to ask what a present is. Parker, tell Del to buy Laurel something pretty.”
“No. Stop it.” Laurel gave Emma a shove, but she had to laugh. “I like it. If you like it, all rules are off, and it’s a present.”
“What the hell is it?” Mac asked again.
“It’s an electronic organizer for marketing and errands,” Parker explained. “I want one, too. Why didn’t Del buy me one? I like presents.”
“Token,” Emma insisted.
“You don’t need another organizer,” Laurel told Parker.
Mac continued to frown at it. “For God’s sake don’t show it to Carter. He’ll want one, then he’ll want me to use it.”
“Del bought one for Mrs. G, too, so Carter’s bound to see it,” Emma commented.
“Damn it.”
“This is entirely too much controversy over my new toy. I’m going upstairs.”
“Is Mrs. G making pizza?” Emma wondered. “I’ve been thinking all day about Mrs. G’s pizza and a large quantity of wine.”
“We’ll get to it, but we’ve got something to do first.”
“Not work.” Emma grabbed Parker’s arm. “I’m so ready for carbs and alcohol and girls.”
“Not work, exactly. I happened to pick something up today for approval. You’ll need to see it.”
“What did you ... Oh! Oh!” Now Emma spun Parker in a dance. “My wedding dress? Did you find my dress?”
“Maybe. And to follow a recent tradition, we’re in the Bride’s Suite.”
“This is the best surprise. The best.”
“If it doesn’t work for you ... ” Parker began as Emma pulled her up the stairs.
“It’ll still be the best surprise. Oh, I’m nervous.” She stopped outside the door of the Bride’s Suite. “I’m really nervous. Okay, here we go.” She reached for the door, pulled her hand back. “I can’t open it. Somebody else open it.”
Laurel pushed open the door. “In you go,” she said, then gave Emma a shove.
Emma gasped, then pressed a hand to her lips.
Parker never missed, Laurel thought. The dress
was Emma. Romantic and fanciful with its acres of frothy skirts, with just a hint of sexy in the sparkle of the deeply off-the-shoulder bodice. A garden of fabric roses bloomed on the warm white of the elaborate pick-up skirt and along the sweeping train fit for a princess.
“It’s a fairy tale,” Emma managed. “Oh, Parker, it’s a fairy tale.”
“Have some of this.” Mrs. Grady, who’d been waiting with champagne, handed a flute to Emma. “No crying with champagne. You’ll water it down.”
“It’s the most beautiful dress in the world.”
“You have to try it on. Strip it off, Em,” Laurel ordered. “Parker and I will help you. Mac’s documenting.”
“The skirt.” Reverently, Emma brushed her fingertips over the fabric. “It’s like clouds. It’ll billow. Oh, look at the back!” Tiny white rosebuds trailed down to hide the zipper. “Could there be a more perfect dress for a florist?”
“It kept saying ‘take me to Emma,’” Parker told her as she and Laurel helped her into it.
“No peeking!” Laurel ordered as Emma started to turn her head to look in the mirror. “Not until we’re done.”
“Needs a couple of tucks.” Mrs. Grady stepped over with her pins as Mac circled with her camera.
“Laurel, the train needs a little ...Yeah, that’s it,” Mac said. “Oh, Em. Just wow.”
“I have to see.”
“Hold your horses,” Mrs. Grady muttered, and finished her pinning. She stepped back out of the way, gave the nod.
“Ready?” Emma held her breath, turned.
Mac caught it, Laurel thought, caught that moment of wonder, the sheen of tears that was joy.
“All my life,” Emma murmured. “Ever since we were little girls, I dreamed of this. And here I am, in my wedding dress. And it feels exactly as I hoped it would.”
“You look like a princess,” Laurel told her. “Honestly, Emma, you’re just staggering.”
Emma reached out, touching fingertips to the mirror. “It’s me. I’m going to wear this dress to marry the man I love. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Good work.” Laurel put an arm around Parker. “Damn good work.” She took the tissue Parker offered, dabbed her eyes. “Let’s toast the bride.”
“Give me the camera, Mackensie,” Mrs. Grady ordered, “so I can get one of the four of you. There you are, and aren’t you a picture?” she added, and captured it.
Later, over pizza and champagne, they dived into wedding plans. “I’ll have my mother, and maybe my sister, come into the bridal shop to see it when I do the first fitting. I’ll cry again. We’ll all cry.”
“They’re holding two headpieces. One if you wear your hair up, the other if you wear it down. Your mom can help you decide.”
“Parker. You think of everything.” Emma blinked, sniffled. “No, I don’t want to start that again. Oh, the bouquet I’m going to design for that dress! And my three maids of honor—or hey, by then two maids and one matron.”
“I can’t imagine being a matron,” Mac said over a bite of pizza.
“I think lavender. Different styles, but the same color tones. I’m leaning toward whites and lavenders for the flowers. Soft, soft, soft, and romantic. White candles everywhere.”
“A mix of real, silk, and sugar paste flowers for the cake,” Laurel mused.
“Yes! Look, Parker’s taking notes. Parker’s taking notes on my wedding.”
“Of course I am.”
“I want to schedule the engagement shoot for an evening next week,” Mac told her. “I want a night shot—sexy and atmospheric. In the gardens here.”
“The gardens. That’s perfect. I have the best pals in the universe.”
“I’d like to tag along for the fitting,” Mac added. “Get some shots of you and your mom.”
“You should do it here.” Laurel sipped champagne. “We can arrange the first fitting here—and bring the headpieces, right, Parker?”
“We could.” Parker’s face lit up as she warmed to the idea. “Sure we could.”
“Then Mac could get her shots, and your mom could sit down for a first official consult, go over things you’ve decided, or where you’re leaning.”
“That’s a really good idea,” Parker decided.
“I have one now and then.”
“We could really do it up for her,” Mac added. “Your mom. The Vows’ VIP client treatment.”
“She’d love that. I’d love that. There I go again.”
Laurel passed Emma another tissue. “Think about shoes.”
“Shoes?”
“Shoes for that dress.”
“Oh. Shoes.”
“See, nobody cries over shoes. I’d go for something with just a touch of sparkle, just a hint of sexy and all-out fabulous.”
“We need to go shopping. You don’t have your wedding shoes yet, do you, Mac?”
“Not yet.”
“Wedding shoe safari!” Emma cried. “God, this is fun.”
“Wait until you start trying to pick out invitations, place cards, and all that, and start obsessing over fonts. I never thought I’d obsess over fonts.” Mac shook her head. “But I am. It’s like a drug. I see that look, McBane.” Mac wagged a finger. “That amused superiority. Like you believe you’ll never sink as I have sunk. But you will. Mark my words. One day, fonts will haunt your sleep.”
“I just don’t think so. Anyway, I’m not getting married.”
“But don’t you think you and Del ... at some point,” Emma began.
“We’ve only been dating since last month.”
“Evasive,” Mac said. “You’ve known each other forever.”
“And you’re in love with him,” Emma finished.
“I’m not thinking about that.”
“About being in love with him,” Parker asked, “or spending the rest of your life with him?”
“It’s not—I’m not projecting that far ahead.”
“Stop it,” Parker ordered.
“It’s really hard.”
“Stop what?” Emma looked from one to the other. “What’s hard?”
“Laurel saying what she’d say to us if the man wasn’t my brother. You’re insulting me.”
“No! Damn it, Parker, that’s just cheating.”
“No, it’s just making the point. Should I just leave?”
“Now you stop it.” Scowling, Laurel tossed back more champagne. “You always
