Bride Quartet Collection

by Nora Roberts

  “You, too.” She’d never seen him in a suit, she realized.They’d been together nearly every night through the week, slept together, and she hadn’t been entirely sure he even owned a suit.

  “I put him to work.” Laurel stood on a step stool, putting finishing touches on the five-tiered cake. “Del deserted me. Nice presentation,” she added to Malcolm. “I may keep you.”

  “But you still don’t trust me with the pastries.”

  “Baby steps.”

  “Laurel.” Parker took a step closer. “That cake. It’s so damn happy.”

  The square layers rose up, stacked like wicker boxes and drenched in color, with a combination of real and sugar-paste flowers blooming over it.

  “It’s a winner, inside and out, but I think my favorite touch is the topper—and that goes to you, Master.”

  “She didn’t want usual or formal.” And damn if the laughing bride and groom kicking up their heels in a dance on top of the cake didn’t make her smile. “The artist really captured them.”

  “And we’re going to be getting requests for personalized toppers like this the minute this one’s unveiled.”

  “Which is relatively soon. I’ve got to—”

  “Coffee.” Malcolm handed her a cup.

  “Oh.Thanks.”

  “He’s handy,” Laurel commented.

  “My middle name. Got anything else?”

  “Actually, we’re right on . . . Crap.” Parker tapped her earpiece. “She’s just turned in. She’s early.The woman’s late for everything, but today she’s early.” As she spoke, Parker whipped off her apron, stepped out of the Uggs and into the heels she’d left beside Laurel’s. She pulled lip gloss out of her pocket, applying it as she ran.

  “How does she do that?” Malcolm asked.

  “Multitask, that’s Parker’s middle name.” Laurel stepped off the stool. “You two work out pretty well.”

  “You think?”

  “She’s happy, and she’s confused. A lot of things make Parker happy. Spreadsheets, for instance, and for mysterious reasons. But very little confuses her.”

  Laurel paused to take a long sip from a bottle of water.“As her friend since always, I think, yeah, you two work out pretty well. I’m sure you’ve already heard this from Del, but if you mess her up, you will pay.We’re like the Borg on this kind of thing.”

  “Resistance is futile?”

  “I really do like you, Mal.” She gave him a quick and brilliant smile. “So I hope I don’t have to hurt you.”

  He hoped the same.

  With Parker busy helping the bride, he was free to wander around. He’d been to a handful of events now, and it occurred to him that the four women and their army of assistants somehow managed to make each one unique. Parker’s timetable might’ve been rigid, but under it, over it, around it, everything else reflected the personal. And from what he’d observed, the time and sweat that went into making it so.

  He found Del, Jack, and Carter at the bar in the Solarium.

  “Just what I was after.”

  Del reached down, put a beer on the bar. “We’re keeping Carter sane.”

  “Yeah? What’re you drinking there, Prof?”

  “It’s tea. It’s a nice herbal tea.”

  “Jesus Christ, your sister’s getting hitched and you’re drinking pussy tea?”

  “That’s exactly right. I have to put on a tux, and I have to escort people, including my mother, down the aisle. I have to make a toast. I’m going to be sober.”

  “He’s freaked,” Jack commented.

  “Shows. If you’re freaked about your sister doing the I Do deal, how are you going to handle doing it yourself?”

  “I’m not thinking about that yet. I’m going to get through today. I’d be better if I could be up there, helping Mac, but Sherry won’t let me. I just need to—” He broke off, pulled out the beeper in his pocket. “Oh, well, that’s me. I mean that’s Nick.They’re here. I have to go and be there.”

  He downed the tea like medicine. “I’ll be fine,” he said resolutely, then walked away.

  “We’ll get him drunk later,” Del said.

  “Looking forward to it.” Mal lifted his beer, and the three men clinked bottles.

  IT WAS PERFECT, PARKER THOUGHT. SHERRY’S LAUGHTER FILLED THE Bride’s Suite as she and her attendants dressed. The absolute joy proved infectious, and provided Mac with countless photos of happy faces, mugging faces, embraces—and the bride twirling exuberantly in front of the mirror.

  Eyes watered up a bit as Pam Maguire helped her daughter adjust her headpiece, and when Michael stepped in for his first look at his baby girl.

  “Sherry.” He stopped to clear his throat. “You’re a vision.”

  “Daddy.” Still holding her mother’s hand, she reached for her father’s, pulled them together. Turned to the mirror again, her arms around her parents’ waists, she beamed like the sun. “Get a load of us.”

  Get a load of you, Parker thought as Mac captured the moment. They were beautiful and happy and together. It made her ache, just a little, for what she’d never have. That moment would never be hers.

  She took a breath, shook it off. “It’s time.”

  The bride smiled her way down the aisle behind her pretty attendants.When she reached the groom, whose jaw had dropped satisfactorily at the sight of her before his grin burst out, she reached for his hand, laughed.

  And Parker thought, yes, it’s just exactly right.

  “BEST PARTY EVER,” MAC DECLARED. “AS ORDERED. HOW ARE WE going to top that?” She tipped her head to Carter’s shoulder.

  They hadn’t managed to get him drunk—he’d held out and held up, and now slumped on the sofa in the family parlor, two fingers of whiskey in his hand.

  “She sparkled,” he replied.

  “Yeah, she really did.”

  “Damn good cake.” Malcolm shoveled in a bite.“It’s my favorite part of these deals.”

  “A man of taste,” Laurel said, and yawned. “Tomorrow’s is chocolate ganache.”

  “Will I like it?”

  “Yes, unless you go insane during the night. Haul me up, Del. I am so done.”

  “Go, team us.” Emma, eyes closed, snuggled against Jack.“Can I just sleep here?”

  Jack rose, gathered her up. She smiled sleepily as she wound her arms around his neck. “I love when you do that.”

  “You earned a ride. ’Night, all.”

  “I, on the other hand, am pumped. I’m going to take a look at some of the shots before I turn in.” Mac elbowed Carter. “Come on, cutie, let’s go so you can hail my genius.”

  He managed to unfold himself. “Parker, thanks for giving my sister a day none of us will ever forget.”

  “Oh, Carter.”Touched, she rose to step over and kiss his cheek. “I promise you and Mac exactly the same.”

  She watched them go.

  “I can see the wheels turning,” Malcolm commented.

  “I did get some ideas today. We’ll see if I can make them happen.”

  “If anybody can.” He paused. “Am I staying?”

  “I’d like you to.” She held out a hand.

  ON A BRISK OCTOBER AFTERNOON WITH CLOUDS SCUTTLED ACROSS the sky, and tumbles of colored leaves scooting over the lawn ahead of the wind, Parker called a midday meeting.

  To brighten the mood she lit a fire, as fires had always crackled or simmered in the library on chilly days in autumn. And as the flames caught, she wandered to one of the windows to look out on the roll of land, the shivering trees, the rippling gray water in the pond.

  She didn’t often wonder where her life was going. More often than not her focus centered on the details, plans, contingencies, needs, wants, fantasies of others. Maybe it was the contrasts of the day, that soft and gloomy sky against the still brilliant trees.The leaves shedding themselves to dance and whirl in the air while the mums and asters stubbornly bloomed.

  Everything seemed paused for change, but was she? Change was as
much about loss as gain, about giving something up even as you reached for something new or different. And, she admitted, she prized routine, tradition, even repetition.

  Routine equaled security, safety, stability. While the unknown often grew on shaky ground.

  And that, she realized, was a line of thinking as gloomy as the sky. The world was opening up, she reminded herself, not closing in. She’d never been a coward, never been afraid to take those steps onto unsettled ground.

  Life changed, and it should. Her three closest friends were getting married, starting new phases of their lives. One day, she imagined, there would be children tumbling like those colorful leaves on the lawn.That’s how it should be.

  That’s what home was for.

  Their business was expanding. And if after the meeting they were in agreement, it would expand again, in new, uncharted areas.

  Then there was Malcolm—and that, she had to admit, was the crux of this nervy, unsettled feeling. God knew he was a change. She couldn’t decide if he’d just slid cagily, craftily into her life or kicked open doors she’d thought she’d cautiously bolted.

  Most days, she thought, it seemed to be a combination of both.

  However he’d gotten in, she still couldn’t quite figure out what to expect from him. An attentive lover, then a wildly demanding one; an amusing companion, then one who peppered her with questions that pushed her to think both inside and outside the box.The risk-taker, the devoted son, the bad boy, the shrewd businessman.

  He had all those facets, and she felt she’d barely touched the surface.

  She appreciated his innate curiosity, and the skill he possessed in digging out information, histories, connections. He ended up, she’d come to realize, learning a great deal about other people.

  And was frustratingly stingy with personal data.

  Most of what she knew of his history came from other sources. He had a way of skirting around the edges whenever she asked a question about his childhood, his early time in California, even his recovery from the accident that had brought him home again.

  If their relationship had stayed a surface one, the reticence wouldn’t matter. But it hadn’t, Parker thought, so it did. It mattered because she’d gone past interest, swung into attraction, burst through lust, tripped over affection, and was now skidding out of control into love.

  And she wasn’t altogether happy about it.

  The rain began in thin, spitting drops as Laurel came in with a big tray.

  “If we’re going to have a meeting this time of day, we might as well eat.” She cast Parker a look as she set the tray down. “Don’t you look pensive and perturbed.”

  “Maybe I’m just hungry.”

  “That we can fix. We’ve got some very pretty, girlie sandwiches, seasonal fruit, celery and carrot straws, kettle chips, and petit fours.”

  “That ought to do it.”

  “It’s nice.” Laurel crunched on a chip. “A fire on a rainy afternoon. Nice, too, to get off my feet for a while.” She opted for tea, then sat. “What’s up?”

  “A couple of things.”

  “A couple of things like here’s what’s up, or a couple of things like here’s a deal, let’s discuss it into many pieces?”

  “I think the latter.”

  “Then I need a sandwich.”

  Mac and Emma walked in together as Laurel loaded a plate.

  “So, we’d pick that up with the mini mango callas for the boutonnieres,” Mac said, obviously continuing a conversation. “And you’d, like, pop them out in the bouquets and arrangements. All mixed in, but popped.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I think I like that the best. I’m consulting with my wedding florist,” she told Parker and Laurel. “I believe she’s brilliant.”

  “I completely am. Oh, pretty sandwiches.”

  “I’m also brilliant,” Laurel reminded her. “If you’re still in florist mode, Em, I’ve been thinking of going with cool colors. Sherberty.”

  “Don’t make me wear raspberry.” Mac tugged her bright red hair.

  “I could, I could make you, but besides brilliant I’m also kind. I was thinking lemony. All three of you would look good in really pale lemon. Maybe chiffon. It’s kind of clichéd maybe. Lemon chiffon, summer wedding, but—”

  “It’s good. And I can really work with a pale lemon,” Emma speculated. “Using zaps of bold blues, trails of minty greens. Keeping it all soft, but saturated, with unexpected snaps of deeper colors.”

  “I want to get your engagement shots in the next week,” Mac said to Laurel.

  “We haven’t decided exactly what we want there.”

  “I have.” Mac bit down on a carrot straw. “In the kitchen.”

  Instantly Laurel moved to sulk mode. “Talk about clichés.”

  Mac just pointed with her carrot. “The counter heaped with gorgeous pastries, cakes, cookies, with you and Del in front of it. I want him sitting on a stool, and you wearing your baker’s apron and cap.”

  And the sulk deepened. “Well, aren’t I glamorous?”

  “What you’ll be when I’m done with you, ye of no faith whatsoever, will be sexy, adorable, cheeky, and unique.”

  “She was right about doing Jack’s and mine in the garden,” Emma pointed out. “We looked gorgeous, and hot.”

  “Also brilliant, but it did help that you’re both already gorgeous and hot. So.” Mac dropped into a seat. “What’s the what for?” Her eyebrows lifted as she glanced at Parker, saw her friend grinning. “And what’s that for?”

  “It’s fun, it’s just fun to listen to all you talk about wedding plans.Your own wedding plans. Mac, I’ve asked Monica and Susan from the bridal shop to stand in for me—pinch running, we’ll say—on your day. They’re smart, experienced, capable. And if there’s anything that needs to be dealt with during the ceremony, I won’t have to excuse myself and bolt.”

  “That’s really good thinking.”

  “Which makes us four for four in brilliance.They’ll also help with guests while we’re up in the Bride’s Suite. Emma, I know you have a team, but—”

  “Right there with you,” Emma interrupted. “I won’t be as available for the setup, and we won’t be able to draft Carter or Del or Jack. I’ve got two florists I’m going to work with on a couple of the upcoming events. And if they’re as good as I think, they’ll work with my regular team for Mac’s. We’re going to need extra and experienced hands for the Seaman wedding in April—and for mine, for Laurel’s.”

  “Good. And Laurel.”

  “Also on the same page. I’ve asked Charles, the pastry chef at the Willows, if he can take time to work with me on Mac’s wedding. I told you how good he is. He’s thrilled. I have to wheedle the time off for him, but I know how to handle Julio,” she added, speaking of the restaurant’s temperamental head chef.

  “I think we’ve got that covered,” Parker told her. “We’ll need to have some strategy meetings, and all of these extra hands will need a tour of the event spaces, a tutorial on how we work. Mac, I’ve started the timetable for your wedding.”

  “My timetable,” Mac said, and grinned. “Parker made me a timetable.”

  “It’s varied from our usual, because it’s you, and it’s us. We’ll work out any time constraints during rehearsal, which I also wanted to talk to you about.The rehearsal dinner . . .”

  “We’ll probably book the Willows, but . . .”

  Parker met Mac’s eyes, read them, smiled. “I was hoping you would.”

  “Oh yes!” Understanding the looks, Emma clapped her hands together. “Have it here. It’s perfect.”

  “It is perfect,” Laurel agreed. “Even with the added work, the cleanup, it’s just right.”

  “Settled?”

  Mac reached across the table, squeezed Parker’s hand.“Settled.”

  “New business. It would be oddly new business. I got a call from Katrina Stevens. Memory refresher. She was one of our first brides. Towering, pencil-thin blonde,
big laugh. I believe one of her attendants was the first to have sex with a groomsman in the Bride’s Suite.”

  “Oh yeah!” Mac held up a hand. “She was easily six feet tall, wore spikes that added another four inches.The groom was about six-eight.They looked like Nordic gods.”

  “Silver Palace cake, six layers,” Laurel recalled.

  “White roses, eggplant callas,” Emma confirmed.

  “She and Mica are getting a divorce.”

  “Can’t win them all. Too bad though,” Laurel added. “They made an impressive couple.”

  “Apparently, at least according to Katrina, he didn’t mind impressing others, and when she caught him doing so with one of his clients, she kicked him out. There was some back and forth, separation, reconciliation, separation, and now she’s done.The divorce will be final in late February. She wants a divorce party. Here.”

  “A divorce party?” Emma’s lips moved into a pout. “That doesn’t seem nice.”

  “I don’t think she’s feeling particularly nice toward Mica, but she did sound as though she’s feeling energized and happy. She’s gotten the idea in her head that she wants to celebrate what she’s calling the new start of her life, and she wants to do it here—in style.”

  Parker lifted the water bottle that was never far from her hand. “It’s not what we do, which I explained to her, but she’s got the bit between her teeth. She’s set on it, willing to book a full day in one of our slowest months, not counting the Valentine’s Day madness. I felt I had to put it out there for discussion.”

  “Just how do we list that kind of event on the website?” Mac muttered.

  “I think divorce should make you sad, or mad.” Emma frowned over her tea.“I can see going out, getting toasted with some friends, but this seems mean.”

  “Cheating on your wife’s meaner,” Laurel pointed out.

  “No question, but it’s . . .” Emma moved her shoulders to mime discomfort. “And here, where they got married.”

  “It’s probably small of me, but I like the way she’s thinking.” Laurel shrugged and bit into a carrot straw. “Like she’s closing a circle, and instead of bitching or mourning—and maybe, probably she’s already done both—she’s marking it with food, drink, flowers, music, friends. I wouldn’t like to see us do this sort of thing regularly, but I can sort of see it for a returning customer.”