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“Isn’t that always the way?” Parker said cheerfully. “I know an excellent trainer if you’re interested in a little help. She’s wonderful, and has kid-puppy classes, so the kids get involved in the work. How about some coffee?”
“I’m cutting back on caffeine.”
“I drink far too much of it myself.We’ve got some lovely green tea. Carter says it’s your favorite.”
With a quick hitch in her stride, Diane stared, blinked.“Carter did?”
“It’s surprising isn’t it, what our brothers notice and remember? Let’s sit down. You look just terrific, Diane. What have you been doing?”
Obviously flustered, Diane pushed back at her bob of brown hair. An attractive woman, she habitually marred her looks with a dissatisfied expression. “I joined a yoga class a couple months ago, but it’s so full of nonsense that I—”
“Oh, I love yoga.” All smiles, Parker poured the tea. It was no accident she used one of her grandmother’s best Doulton tea services. Diane, she knew, noted and set store by such things. “Even a fifteen-minute session helps me release all the stress of the day. Good for you for taking a little me-time. With your work, your family, all those obligations, you have to fit twenty-five hours into every day. I honestly don’t know how you do it, and here I’ve added to those hours by asking you to come talk to me.”
“I assume it’s about Sherry’s wedding, and I don’t really understand what that has to do with me.”
“Can you believe it’s almost here?” Undeterred, Parker sipped her tea. “And before we know it, it’ll be Carter and Mac.” She reached out to take Diane’s hand again. “It makes us family. And that’s what sparked this idea I have.”
“What idea?”
“I should start at the beginning, and the credit for that goes to Mac.You know that Sherry’s main wish for the wedding was fun. She wants it to be a fun day—friends and family—a celebration. I have to tell you, Di, so many brides are focused on the tiny details, the minutiae. And of course, that’s what we do here. It’s part of what we offer. But it’s so refreshing to work with your sister, a woman who sees the big picture. She sees, well, your parents, and you.”
“Me?”
“You and Sam and your children.What you’ve built—the life, the family, the continuity. It isn’t an easy thing, that build—as you know—and she sees what you’ve accomplished. And all that starts with the wedding itself, the celebration of those first steps.You’re her big sister. You took the steps before her, and you’ve helped show her the way.You’ve been a huge influence on her.”
Diane sniffed. “Sherry never listens to anything I have to say.” “You know, I think those who have impact and influence over us are often unaware. Why just the other day . . .” She broke off, gave a little shake of her head. “I don’t want to betray a confidence, but since it’s family, Sherry told me just the other day how important you are to her, how much you mean to her. I guess it’s easier to say that to someone just a little outside, isn’t it?”
Again the stare, the blink. “She said that?”
“Yes, and it made me realize . . . I’m ahead of myself again.” With an easy laugh, Parker waved a hand as if she’d scattered her thoughts. “Mac’s idea. She’s put together photographs of Sherry, of your family, Nick and his family. Old photos, recent ones. A kind of chronological retrospective. Mac’s so talented. I know I’m biased, but I have to say the CD she created is wonderful. Sweet, funny, charming, poignant. The idea is to run it at the rehearsal dinner.”
“Oh, I’m not going to—”
“What it’s missing,” Parker interrupted, “is a narrator. An emcee if you will. Someone who’s been there from the beginning. Not your parents, as it’s a surprise for them, too, and Mac added their wedding photo to kick the whole thing off. I thought Carter, as he’s a teacher as well as her brother, so he’s used to speaking in public, but when Sherry and I talked, I realized no. It’s a sister thing. A big sister thing. After all, who has a more unique, clever, intimate perspective on Sherry, on your family, on Nick and his, than you? Please say you’ll do it.”
Again, Parker reached out a hand, making that contact, making it personal.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, and it’s such short notice, but it’s all just coming together.We really need you.”
“You want me to . . . to narrate pictures?”
“Not just want, but need. And not just pictures. It’s a journey, Diane. Sherry and Nick’s, yes, but also all of you. Family’s so essential to both of them. I’ve gotten to know them and understand that over these past months. It’s going to be the highlight of the evening. Carter’s drafted out the script, and he’s hoping you’ll say yes and work with him on refining it.”
“Carter wants me to—” She broke off, obviously stunned.
“Oh, I know you’re incredibly busy already, and it’s a lot to ask. But I’ll help as much as I can, as much as you want or need. Frankly, I don’t think you’ll need any help.Anyone who can manage a family the way you do can, in my opinion, manage anything.”
“I might be able to do it, but I’d have to see the CD and whatever Carter’s written before I could commit.”
Parker whisked a file off the table.“I happen to have a copy of both right here.The CD runs just about twelve minutes. Have you got time to watch it now?”
“I . . .I guess.”
“Perfect. I’ll just get my laptop.”
Twenty-six minutes later, Parker wheeled the tea trolley back in the kitchen.
“I see by the canary feathers stuck to your lip that you pulled it off.” Mrs. Grady set the basket of cherry tomatoes just harvested from her kitchen garden on the counter.
“I troweled it on pretty thick, then I shoveled on more. She’ll not only attend the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner, but she’ll emcee Mac and Carter’s CD. And bless Carter for being willing to step out as emcee, especially since it was as much his idea as Mac’s.”
“He’s a good boy. And his older sister’s always been a pain in the rear.”
“Well, she’s attractive, but she lacks Sherry’s vivacity and easy confidence. She’s smart, but not as innately bright as Carter, and not anywhere near as sweet. She’s the firstborn but not, I think, often first otherwise. And it irks. All I had to do was make it as much about her as Sherry.” Parker shrugged. “And tell her a few truths. Her family loves her. She’s important to them. Some people just have to hear it, a lot.”
“I bet it didn’t hurt it came from you.‘Parker Brown needs my help.’”
Parker shrugged again. “Whatever works.The bride gets what she wants and deserves.” She glanced at her watch. “And I’m on schedule.”
She pitched in on decor for the event, checked on Laurel’s progress, spoke with the caterers on their arrival, the parking attendants at theirs.
She stepped out on the terrace for a last check as Mac took shots of the setup, and thought, Champagne Elegance all around.
Not her particular taste for a wedding shower—and since she had three in planning stages for her friends, she had plenty of ideas—but the scene had an appealingly stylish Deco feel, with just enough lush from Emma’s stunning arrangements to soften it.
“Totally Gatsby,” Mac said as she lowered her camera.
“I was just thinking that. I’d say the hostess, and the bride, will be very pleased.”
“You’ve already scored today. Carter sent me a text. His sister wants to meet him after his classes today and talk about the script for the rehearsal dinner. Nice job.”
“I think she’ll do one, too. I really do. She was excited about the whole thing when she left.”
“Diane? Excited? Did you spike her tea?”
“In a manner of speaking, but it was the CD itself that did it. She got misty a few times.”
Mac’s eyebrows winged up. “I underestimate my own power. Everything a go inside?”
“Emma was just finishing the public areas, and Laurel’s done and with
the caterer. I’m about to . . .” She laid a finger on her headset. “Be right there. Our hostess just arrived,” she told Mac. “I’ll go meet her, bring her through.”
“I’ll go around, get some unobtrusive shots of arrivals.”
With a nod, Parker started inside. “Em, Laurel,” she said into her headset, “we’re green.”
Within the hour, Parker watched women in stylish white suits, floaty white dresses, sharply tailored white pants mingle on the terrace. They sipped champagne, chatted, laughed, nibbled on pretty passed hors d’oeuvres.
Mac moved among them, capturing moments. The burst of delight as the bride-to-be threw back her head and laughed, the affectionate hug of greeting between friends, the sweetness of a granddaughter tapping flutes with her grandmother.
It pleased her, as it always did, to see happiness here, to feel it sparkling in the air like champagne, to know what had come to her could be a setting for joy.
Today it pleased her to be in the company of women, and to have played a part in creating this individualized vision of the female ritual.
At the appointed time, she moved forward to ask the guests to be seated for lunch, then again retreated to the background.Then braced when the hostess made her way over, her face set in harassed lines.
“Olivia asked about games. She wants shower games.”
Which you expressly vetoed, Parker remembered, but smiled. “I can take care of that.”
“She asked about games and prizes. Obviously I haven’t prepared for—”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll see to it during lunch. How about three? I find that’s just enough. Fun and simple games with pretty prizes for the winners.”
“I don’t want to hand out anything tacky or foolish. I’d want something in keeping with the ambiance.”
And gee, Parker thought, I was going to get the glow-in-the-dark dildos. “Absolutely. Leave it to me. We’ll have it all arranged for after lunch. Please, go enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about a thing.”
She waited until she’d slipped inside. “Laurel, I need you to take over outside,” she said into her headset. “The BTB wants games and prizes. I need fifteen minutes to set it up.”
“Got it.”
“Emma, I need a small prize table set up.”
“Oh, for God’s sake—”
“I know, I know. Whatever you can do. You’ve got forty minutes.”
She charged up the back steps, all the way to the gift room, a space designed for gift wrapping, present storage. Inside one of the cabinets she had labeled, prewrapped gifts. She scanned, debated, and after choosing three, slipped them into white embossed gift bags, tucked in black tissue. From another cabinet she grabbed a stack of notepads, pencils, pulled other supplies.
She dashed back down, set the bags and the box of supplies on the dining room table, then zipped through the kitchen and into the old butler’s pantry to choose the proper tray for the display.
“What are you after?” Mrs. Grady asked from behind her.
“The BTB wants games, which the hostess vetoed during the planning stages. I don’t think white bags on a white tray, and we don’t have an appropriate black one. I think silver. Or glass. Maybe glass.”
“Try both.”
“Good idea. Can you come, give me an opinion?”
Mrs. Grady walked along with her. “Oh, your car’s back.”
