A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7)

by Sheila Roberts

  Before Anne could even bring it up, they were on to a new idea—a pirate ship. Apparently, you could do that at the Treasure Island Hotel in Vegas. (Back to Vegas again—nooo!) Or they could have a zombie theme. This was another suggestion from Drake. He was just full of ideas. (Who asked him, anyway?)

  By the time they left, Anne was on her third glass of white wine and on the phone to her mother. “This is insane,” she’d finished after delivering the bad news of her daughter’s sudden poor taste in weddings.

  “Frustrating, isn’t it?”

  She’d received the message in her mother’s tone of voice loud and clear. Yeah. How does it feel?

  Okay, so she hadn’t let Mom throw her the super wedding she’d wanted. “That was different,” she’d reminded her. And at least her mother’d had Kendra, who’d come through with the traditional wedding. Anne had only Laney.

  “All you can do is make suggestions,” Julia had said. “And if you think she’s going to take any of them, you’ve been eating too much wedding cake.”

  “Ha-ha. I’m sure glad I called you.”

  “I am, too,” Julia had said, ignoring the sarcasm. “This is happy news, and I know whatever kind of wedding Laney wants, you’ll give it to her.”

  Of course she would. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, no length to which she wouldn’t go, to give her daughter the wonderful wedding she deserved.

  “In the end, you want her to have the day she wants.”

  “Well, yes,” Anne had agreed.

  And she knew what Laney wanted. It was the same thing she’d wanted since she was a little girl. Anne could still remember, when Laney was seven, watching the wedding scene in The Sound of Music with her—the first movie wedding they ever watched together. Laney sat transfixed at the sight of Maria coming down the aisle to the nuns’ chorus. “I want a wedding like that someday, Mommy,” she’d breathed, and Anne had vowed then and there to make sure she got it. She was no less determined now.

  Laney needed guidance. “I don’t want her to wind up having any regrets.” Wasn’t it a mother’s job to save her daughter from that? So far there’d been very little saving and a whole lot of running just to keep up.

  * * *

  Come Monday it was time to focus on other brides. In the morning Anne met with a bride-to-be, pinning down the details of her upcoming wedding.

  “I love the idea of the treasure box,” the bride gushed. “It would be great to fill that as part of the ceremony. What should we put in it?”

  “Well, it can be anything you want. A copy of your wedding vows, for one thing. And didn’t you say your bridesmaids were going to make tissue flowers to decorate the lodge? You could put in one of those, as well as your engagement picture. Also, a lot of couples put in something like a bottle of whiskey so they can toast each other on their one-year anniversary. You open the box again in another five years and another five and so on. Each time you can reread your vows. You’ll have the flower as a keepsake and the picture to remind you how happy you are in this moment.”

  “And the whiskey to help us forget if we aren’t,” joked the bride-to-be.

  “Or to congratulate each other on doing such a good job of building a life together.”

  Her client nodded vigorously, typing notes in her iPad. “We are so doing this.”

  Anne smiled. Happy brides were what made her world spin.

  After lunch she spent two hours in the studio attached to her office with another bride-to-be, showing her table-setting options. Now it was time to book that venue Marla Polanski had requested.

  Anne brought up the website for Primrose Haus in Icicle Falls and it was love at first sight. “Oh, this is beautiful,” she said, and Kendra came to look over her shoulder.

  The place was like something out of a fairy tale, with turrets and dormer windows and a front porch dripping with gingerbread trim. It was pale pink, the color of clouds at the end of a sunset, and the trim was white. The landscaping was just as charming, with lush lawns, a profusion of flowers, brick walkways and stone benches. And, of course, a fountain in the back. There was also a charming rose arbor where a bride and groom could exchange vows during a summer wedding.

  “Wow,” Anne breathed. She could so easily envision Laney and Drake standing under that arbor.

  “Wow is right,” Kendra said.

  The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside, all graceful furniture and chandeliers, and in the front hall a staircase with an elegantly carved banister that was perfect for a bride to come down. Gilded mirrors, vases filled with flowers—the owners knew what they were doing.

  Anne clicked on the About Us button.

  Roberta Gilbert has been hosting weddings at Primrose Haus for thirty years, but she never gets tired of opening her home to couples embarking on life’s greatest adventure. Let her and her talented staff make your special day one to remember.

  “I can see why my client wanted to use this place,” Anne said.

  “It makes me want to get married all over again,” Kendra said with a sigh.

  “Me, too. Want to go to Icicle Falls with me and check it out?”

  “You bet. But only if we can stop at Sweet Dreams Chocolates while we’re up there. I mean, you can’t visit Icicle Falls and not go to the chocolate factory.”

  “Gee, twist my arm,” Anne said as she punched the number for Primrose Haus into her phone. A town with its own source of chocolate... What was not to like about that?

  The little town had more going for it than chocolate. She and Cam had gone there years ago for the Christmas tree-lighting ceremony and been swept away by the Bavarian charm of the place. Everything from the European facades on the buildings to the overflowing flower boxes hanging from their windows said quaint Alpine village. They’d gone a couple of times when Laney was small, had even talked about taking up cross-country skiing, but then life got busy and weekends got full. Anne’s business took off and Cam started coaching basketball and football. So the Bavarian-style town remained a pleasant memory rather than a destination. As for this wedding venue, somehow she’d missed it completely. Probably because her clients hovered around the greater Seattle area.

  She could hardly wait to tour the house. If it was even half as spectacular as it looked in the pictures on the website, it could be a wonderful place for her daughter to get married.

  A cheerful voice answered, “Good morning. Primrose Haus. This is Roberta.”

  Anne introduced herself and explained why she was calling.

  “We often have people come over from Seattle,” Roberta said. “And yes, I’d love to meet you if you’d care to visit on a weekday. I’m afraid our weekends are pretty busy around here.”

  Anne could imagine. The place was almost completely booked, except that she’d seen an opening for the last Saturday in June.

  She and Roberta chatted a little longer, then set a date for the following Tuesday.

  “Let’s spend the night,” Kendra suggested. “I just found a website for the Icicle Creek Lodge and it looks gorgeous.”

  “Great idea,” Anne said. Girl-time with her sister, chocolate, a pretty place to stay... After the week she had ahead of her, a getaway sounded good.

  * * *

  It turned out to be the week from hell. One bride was unhappy with the job the photographer had done on her wedding and wanted a refund. Another decided she couldn’t afford Anne and fired her. A mother of the bride called to scold Anne for not checking out all possible options for a florist. Momzilla Dearest had found one that was half the price of the florist Anne was recommending. Anne knew the florist in question and had rejected her because she wouldn’t be a fit for the bride’s vision. Still, Anne apologized and promised to get an estimate. The next day she learned that the vendor she rented linens from had gone out of business, leavin
g her scrambling for table linens for Saturday’s wedding.

  Saturday was the final stressor. Two dozen extra guests showed up, which meant she and the caterer needed to reportion the food. She was busy helping with this when Cressa, one of the caterer’s assistants, came running up to her. “There’s a table on fire!”

  Sure enough. On the lower level of the tour boat where the wedding was being held, amid a sea of tables covered with white linen and set with candles and peach-colored floral arrangements, one table was a floating flambé. A very large flambé, shooting up flames three feet high. With visions of the entire boat catching fire, Anne grabbed the fire extinguisher she always brought along and dashed from the galley to the burning table, Cressa following behind.

  Cheers from the upper deck where the ceremony was taking place told her the bride and groom were about to come down the aisle. All the bride needed was to see her reception area looking like a giant hot-dog roast.

  At the table Anne fumbled with the extinguisher, misaimed and got a window, making Cressa squeal as if she’d just caught fire. “You missed,” she informed Anne.

  “I noticed.” Anne tried again and this time hit her target, spraying goo all over the table.

  “Yuck,” Cressa said, frowning at the mess.

  “What happened here?” Anne asked, setting down the extinguisher.

  Cressa shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Anne surveyed the scene, getting in touch with her inner fire marshal. Her best guess was that a rose petal had fallen into the flame and then ignited one of the place cards.

  She could hear people visiting up above. Any minute the guests would be wandering down in search of food. (Please let there be enough.)

  She began pulling off plates, stacking them in her arms, covering her blouse with goo. Thank God she always brought along a change of clothes.

  “Let’s get this table cleared,” she said to Cressa, who was still standing there, staring at the mess.

  “What about the flowers?” Cressa asked, gathering up silverware.

  The flowers were now decorated with fire-extinguisher glop. “I’ll find something,” Anne said and hoped she was right.

  Five minutes later the table had a new cloth, and a few roses, stolen from the vases on other tables, were artfully laid around a fresh candle. Anne was sweating like a pig and her heart rate was through the roof. Oh, that was fun.

  The guests never knew. With the bar open, everyone was happy. Meanwhile, Anne continued to run around behind the scenes, making sure the evening went smoothly, that the DJ didn’t start the music until the plates had been cleared and that the photographer (who, it turned out, had a problem with motion sickness) was on hand to catch the bride and groom eating their cake.

  This was worth all the headaches, all the stress, she thought as she watched the happy couple feed each other cupcakes. A wedding was more than a party. It was an event, a lifetime memory in the making, an important marker for the beginning of a new adventure.

  Did her daughter understand that? Sometimes Anne wasn’t so sure.

  She said as much to her sister as they made their way up the mountains to Icicle Falls on Tuesday.

  “It’ll work out,” Kendra assured her, “whatever Laney decides to do. And hey, I’ve seen the pictures on the Treasure Island website. Those wedding chapels are really elegant, and I think the ship sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Anne said in disgust. “Maybe we can get Captain Jack Sparrow to officiate.” She realized she had the SUV’s steering wheel in a stranglehold and forced herself to loosen her grip.

  “It beats being a zombie.”

  “Barely.”

  “What would you do if someone came to us and wanted a zombie wedding?”

  Anne shot an appalled glance in her sister’s direction before returning her attention to the snow-trimmed mountain road. “You have to ask? I’d tell them I’m not the wedding planner for them.”

  “I don’t know. Planning a zombie wedding could be interesting.”

  “Good. Then when Coral and Amy are old enough you guys can have one.”

  “The zombie apocalypse will be over by then,” Kendra said. “Anyway, you’ve done a lot of unusual weddings.”

  “Unusual, yes. Gross and tacky, no.”

  “One woman’s gross and tacky is another one’s fun and clever. Remember the wedding at Wild Waves?”

  “That was a picnic, and the wedding itself was cute.” Well, until the bride got sick on the roller coaster.

  “Zombies can be cute,” Kendra teased.

  Anne groaned. “If Laney does that I’m going to disown her.”

  “I doubt it’ll come to that, but you’d better resign yourself. Your daughter is an artiste and she’s going to want to do something different.”

  “I can live with different,” Anne insisted. “I just want her to think this through, that’s all.”

  “She will. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Anne sighed. “I hope so.”

  The road leveled out and twenty minutes later the sisters were pulling into the town of Icicle Falls. There was a fresh dusting of snow on the main street and all the shops were thickly frosted. The mountains rose up behind, studded with evergreens. There was something restful and calming about this view, Anne thought. Now that they were empty nesters, she and Cam needed to invest in some cross-country ski equipment and come up here.

  “It looks like the inside of a snow globe,” Kendra said. “Oh, there’s a place that sells lace. And one that sells antiques. We have to get in some serious shopping this afternoon.”

  “Agreed,” said Anne. “When can we check into the lodge?”

  “Not until three.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to kill time buying chocolate.”

  “Gee, what a shame.”

  But first they had an appointment with Roberta Gilbert at Primrose Haus.

  Their GPS took them from the downtown area to a small street lined with older homes, all beautifully maintained. “This is it.” Kendra pointed at the sign. “Primrose Street.”

  “I wonder if everyone has primroses in their flower beds,” Anne said. It was hard to tell what anyone had right now, since the lawns were buried under a couple of feet of snow. She knew Primrose Haus had them because she’d seen them in the flower beds in one of the pictures on the website.

  “There’s the house,” Kendra said.

  Even under a blanket of snow, it was charming, and Anne felt herself overcome with house lust. “What would it be like to live here?” A quaint house in a charming little town...

  “It would be work. Old houses always are,” said her sister, the happy new-construction owner. “Remember all the money you guys poured into your place?”

  “Think of the value,” Anne retorted.

  Kendra acknowledged that with a nod. “You lucked out. Finding a house on Queen Anne for under a million these days is next to impossible. If you ever sell it you’ll make a fortune.”

  “We’ll probably be there until we’re old and gray,” Anne said, getting out of the SUV. That was fine with her. She loved their Queen Anne house, enjoyed the neighbors, liked being near her family.

  But then Roberta Gilbert opened the front door and they stepped inside and the house lust was back. This place was so...romantic.

  “Your house is lovely,” Anne gushed once Roberta had settled them in a front parlor where a fire blazed in a marble-trimmed fireplace.

  “I’m fond of it,” Roberta said. She was an attractive older woman, slender with short, gray hair and pretty brown eyes. Like her house, Roberta was a class act, dressed in black slacks and a pale blue cashmere sweater accessorized with a pearl necklace and matching earrings. She’d brought in a tray with teacups and a pot of tea and the proper accoutrements, as well a
s a small plate of cookies.

  Kendra picked one up and took a bite. “Oh, my gosh. This is absolute bliss.”

  “Lavender cookies,” Roberta said. “They come from the tearoom here in town and I must confess I have a weakness for them. We also have a bakery that specializes in gingerbread cookies. Cass, the owner, makes lovely wedding cakes.”

  “Do you have a florist in town, too?” Anne asked. They probably did. She’d seen some of the wedding pictures on the Primrose Haus website, and the floral arrangements were exquisite.

  “Oh, yes. Lupine Floral does a wonderful job,” Roberta said and then went on to tell them about the various vendors she used for weddings. The women discussed prices and exchanged wedding tales, and after an hour Anne felt she’d made a new friend.

  “Would you like to tour the house?” Roberta asked.

  “Absolutely,” Anne replied. Looking at all the beautifully furnished rooms took her from lust to love. “This is such a great venue,” she told Roberta as they walked back to the parlor.

  “Thank you,” Roberta said. “I enjoy hosting weddings here, although I have to admit it’s beginning to feel more like work than it did ten years ago.”

  “I can imagine,” said Kendra. “Keeping this place up looks like a lot of work.”

  “We manage.”

  “Do you ever do other events, like birthdays or anniversaries?” Kendra asked.

  Roberta shook her head. “Rarely. We’re too busy with weddings.”

  “I’d like to book this for my bride and bring her and her mother up to check it out next week if that’s possible,” Anne said to Roberta.

  “Of course.”

  “And I see you have the last Saturday in June open. I wonder if I could give you a deposit to hold that for me. My daughter just got engaged. I really want her to see this place.”

  “Beats a pirate ship,” Kendra joked.

  Roberta was obviously too polite to comment, but she did cock an eyebrow.