“That’s my girl.” Del toasted her with his coffee.

“Anyway, speaking of Jack, have you seen him? I mean, will you be seeing him?”

“Tomorrow, actually. We’re heading into the city to catch the Yankees.”

“Maybe you could take him his jacket. He left his jacket. Or I forgot to give it back. Anyway, I have his jacket, and he probably wants it. I can go get it. It’s in my office. I can just go get it.”

“I’ll go by and get it on my way out.”

“Good. That’d be great. Since you’re seeing him anyway.”

“No problem. I’d better get going.” He picked up the bag, shook it lightly at Laurel. “Thanks for the cookies.”

“A baker’s dozen, including the one you ate, will be deducted from your fee.”

He shot Laurel a grin, and sauntered out.

Laurel waited a few beats then pointed at Emma. “Jack.”

“What?”

“Jack.”

“No,” Emma said slowly, laying her hand between her breasts. “Emma. Em-ma.”

“Don’t be funny, I can see right through you. You said ‘any way’ three times in under a minute.”

“No, I didn’t.” Maybe she had. “And so what?”

“So, what’s going on with you and Jack?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t be ridiculous.” She felt the lie burning her tongue. “You can’t say anything to anyone.”

“If I can’t say anything, it’s not nothing.”

“It is nothing. It’s probably nothing. I’m overreacting. Damn it.” Emma popped the half a cookie she had left in her mouth all at once.

“You’re eating like a normal person. Something is wrong in the Emma-verse. Spill.”

“Swear first. You won’t say anything to Parker or Mac.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Laurel swiped a fingertip diagonally across her breasts, then pointed it to the ceiling. “Sworn.”

“He kissed me. Or we kissed each other. But he started it, and I don’t know what would’ve happened next because Parker beeped me. I had to go, then he left. So, that’s it.”

“Wait, I lost the sense of hearing right after you said Jack kissed you.”

“Cut it out. This is serious.” She bit her lip. “Or it’s not. Is it?”

“This isn’t like you, Em. You are the goddess of handling men and romantic or sexual situations.”

“I know. It’s just this is Jack. It’s not supposed to be . . .” She waved her arms in the air. “Something to handle. I’m making too much of it. It was just a moment, just the circumstances. Just a thing. Now it’s done, so it’s not a thing.”

“Emma, you tend to romanticize men, potential relationships, but you never get flustered over them. You’re flustered.”

“Because it’s Jack! What if you were standing around, minding your own business, baking, and Jack came in and kissed you stupid. Or Del did. You’d be flustered.”

“The only reason either of them come in here is to mooch baked goods. As Del just demonstrated. When did this happen? The night you broke down?”

“No. It almost did. There was a second there . . . I think because there was a second there, it just led into it happening. During the reception Saturday.”

“Right, right, you said Parker beeped you. Well, how was it? How did it rank on the patented Emmaline Grant spark-o-meter?”

Emma let out a breath, pointed her thumb up, then swiped a hand through an imaginary line. “Slapped the top of the red zone before it broke the meter.”

With her lips pursed, Laurel nodded. “I always suspected that about Jack. He has that red zone vibe about him. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided. It’s thrown me off. I need to get my balance back, then figure out what to do. Or not do.”

“Then you have to tell me, and also let me know when the gag order is lifted.”

“All right, but meanwhile, not a word.” Emma picked up the cheese tray. “Let’s go be businesswomen.”

Vows housed its conference room in what had been the library. The books remained, framing the room and giving way in spaces for photos and mementos. The room maintained its warmth, its elegance, even as it served for business.

Parker sat at the big inlaid table, laptop and BlackBerry at the ready. As the morning client meetings and tours were complete for the day, she’d hung her suit jacket on the back of the chair. Mac sat across from her, long legs stretched out, wearing the jeans and sweater that served her for her workday.

When Emma set the tray on the table, Mac levered herself up to snag a cluster of grapes. “You guys are late.”

“Del stopped by the kitchen. Before we start business, who’s up for dinner and a movie night?”

“Me, me!” Mac shot up a hand. “Carter has a teacher thing, and that saves me from working until he gets back. I put in a full one today.”

“As it happens, my calendar is clear.” Laurel laid the cookie plate beside the platter.

Parker merely picked up the house phone, pressed a button. “Hey, Mrs. G, can you handle the four of us for dinner? That’d be great. Thanks.” She hung up. “We’ll have chicken and like it.”

“Works for me.” Mac bit into a grape.

“All right then, the first order of business is Whitney Folk Harrigan, aka Monster Bride. As Laurel knows, I received an e-mail from her wherein she lists several bullet points addressing what she feels we could improve.”

“Bitch.” Mac leaned up this time to spread some goat cheese on a rosemary cracker. “We kicked severe ass on that event.”

“We should’ve kicked her severe ass,” Laurel commented.

“Whitney feels, in no particular order of importance, that . . .” Parker opened a file to read from the e-mail she’d printed out. “The champagne was inadequately chilled, the service during dinner was slow, the gardens lacked enough color and bloom, the photographer spent more time than she deems necessary on the wedding party when the bride deserved more attention, and the offerings on the dessert table weren’t as varied or as well presented as she’d hoped. She adds that she felt rushed and/or neglected by the wedding planner during some parts of the event. She hopes we’ll take these criticisms in the spirit with which they’re offered.”

“To which I respond . . .” Mac shot up a middle finger.

“Succinct.” Parker nodded. “However, I responded with our thanks for her comments, and our hopes that she and Justin enjoy Paris.”

“Panderer,” Laurel muttered.

“You bet. I could’ve responded with: Dear Whitney, you’re full of shit. Which was my first thought. I restrained it. I have, however, upgraded her to Monster Bitch Bride.”

“She must be a genuinely unhappy person. Seriously,” Emma said when her friends just looked at her. “Anyone who could take a wedding day like we provided for her and pick it apart is just innately unhappy. I’d feel sorry for her if I wasn’t so mad. I will feel sorry for her when I stop being mad.”

“Well, mad, sorry, or fuck you, the upside is we’ve had four new tours booked through that event. And I expect more.”

“Parks said fuck.” Mac grinned and ate another grape. “She’s very mad.”

“I’ll get over it, especially if we book four more events as a result of the stupendous job we did on Saturday. For now, I’m putting Whitney in my newly designed Closet of Doom, where everything makes her look fat, all the patterns are polka dots, and the color choices are puce or dead-flesh beige.”

“That’s really mean,” Laurel commented. “I like it.”

“Moving on,” Parker continued. “Del and I met about some of the legal and financial issues of the business. The partnership agreement is coming up for renewal, which includes the percentage funneled back into Vows from the individual arms for outside events. If anyone wants to discuss changes to the agreement, including the percentages, the floor’s open.”

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Emma glanced around at her partners. “I don’t think any of us really imagined we’d build what we’ve built when we started Vows. Not just financially, which is certainly more than I’d have made by now if I’d been able to open my own shop. But, Monster Bitch Bride aside, the reputation we’ve earned, together and individually. The percentage is fair, and the fact is, the cut Del takes for his part of the estate is way below what he could’ve asked. We’re all doing what we love with people we love. And we’re making a good living at it.”

“I think what Em’s saying is: Sign me up.” Mac popped another grape. “I say ditto.”

“I’m right there,” Laurel added. “Is there any reason to change anything?” she asked Parker.

“Not from my perspective, but as Del advised—in his legal function—each of you should read over the agreement again, and voice any reservations, make any suggestions before we renew.”

“I suggest we have Del draw up the papers, sign them, then open a bottle of Dom.”

Mac pointed at Emma in agreement. “Seconded.”

“And the ‘ayes’ have it,” Laurel announced.

“I’ll let him know. I’ve also had a discussion with our accountant.”

“Better you than me,” Laurel said.

“Much better.” Parker smiled and sipped some water. “We’ve had a strong first quarter, and are on track to increase our net profit by about twelve percent over last year. I’m advised we should consider rolling a portion of the net back into the business. So, if any or all of you have a need, whim, or selfish desire for additional equipment, or ideas on what Vows could use as a whole, we can work out what we should spend our money on, and how much we should spend.”

Emma shot her hand up before anyone could speak. “I’ve been thinking about this, especially after I looked at my books for the last quarter. We have our biggest event, to date, next spring with the Seaman wedding. The flowers alone are going to outstrip the capacity of my cooler, so we’ll need to rent another for several days. I may be able to find a used one for a cost that could make it more practical, in the long term, than renting.”