“That’s good.” Parker made a note. “Get some prices.”

“This may be the time,” Emma continued, “considering that event, and the increase we’re seeing in business, to buy some of the other equipment we usually rent. The additional outdoor seating, for instance. Then, when we do an outside event,

we rent it to the client and pocket the fee. And—”

“You really have been thinking,” Mac commented.

“I really have. Since Mac’s already planning to add on to her place, increasing the upstairs living area to accommodate true love, why not add on to the work space, the studio space at the same time? She needs more storage space, a real dressing room instead of the little powder room. And while I’m rolling, the mudroom off Laurel’s kitchen is really redundant, as we have one off the main kitchen. If that was converted, she could have an auxiliary kitchen in there, another oven, another cooler, more storage.”

“We’ll just let Emma do the talking,” Laurel put in.

“And Parker needs a computerized security system so she can monitor all the public areas of the house.”

Parker waited a beat. “I think you’ve spent that net profit increase several times.”

“Spending money’s the fun part of earning it. You be Parker, and that’ll keep us from going wild. But I really think we ought to do at least some of those things, and put the others on the list for as soon as possible down the road.”

“Being Parker then, I’ll say the cooler makes sense. See what you can find. Since we’d need to talk to Jack on how to work the cooler into your space, we can ask him to give us an idea how to add on to Mac’s studio, and refit the mudroom.”

She made more notes as she spoke. “I’d thought of the furniture buy already, and I’ve started researching the cost there. I’ll get projections so we know where we stand on all of this, then we can decide which makes the most sense first.”

Nodding, she flipped over to the next order of business.

“Now, upcoming events that will help pay for our hopes and dreams. The commitment ceremony. They got their vows and the script for the ceremony to me today. Friday evening ceremony with, after a coin toss, Allison, now known as Bride One, arriving at three thirty, and Marlene, now Bride Two, at four. Bride One takes Bridal Suite, Bride Two Groom’s Suite. As they share a MOH, she’s going to float between the suites. Bride One’s brother is BM, so we’ll use the second floor family parlor for him, and the FOBs, as needed. BM will stand on B-One’s side during the ceremony, MOH on B-Two’s.”

“Wait.” Mac held up a finger as she keyed the details into her laptop. “Okay.”

“These ladies know exactly what they want and stick to a plan, so they’ve been extremely easy to deal with on my end. MOB-One and siblings of B-Two aren’t particularly happy with the formalization of this relationship, but are cooperating. Mac, you may have to work to get the shots the clients hope for that include them.”

“No problem.”

“Good. Emma, flowers?”

“They wanted unconventional, but feminine. Neither wanted to carry a bouquet, so we’ve gone with a headpiece for Allison and flower combs for Marlene. A halo for the MOH who’ll carry four white roses. They’ll exchange single white roses during the ceremony, right after the lighting of the unity candle. And each will give her mother a rose. White rose boutonnieres for the men. It should be very pretty.”

Emma scrolled over to arrangements as she sipped her Diet Coke. “They wanted an airy, meadowy look for arrangements and centerpieces. I’m using a lot of baby’s breath and painted daisies, Shastas and gerberas, branches of blooming cherry, wild strawberries, and so on. Minimal tulle, and garlands I’m doing like daisy chains. Bud vases for the roses during the reception.

“A lot of fairy lights and candles, Grand Hall and Ballroom, with a continuation of the natural look for arrangements. It’ll be simple and very sweet, I think. If one of you can help me transport, I can do the setup solo.”

“I can do that,” Laurel told her. “The cake’s the vanilla sponge with raspberry mousse filling, topped with Italian meringue. They wanted simple flowers there, too, echoing Emma’s. I don’t need to add those to the cake until around five, so I’m clear for setup. Otherwise, they want assorted cookies and pastel mints.”

“We have the standard Friday night itinerary,” Parker added, “excluding bouquet and garter toss. Rehearsal Thursday afternoon, so if there are any glitches, we’ll deal with them then. Saturday,” she began.


Whenever Emma thought of her parents, how they met, fell in love, it ran through her mind like a fairy tale.

Once upon a time there was a young woman from Guadala jara who traveled across the continent to the great city of New York to work in the business of her uncle, to tend the homes and children of people who needed or wanted their homes and children tended. But Lucia longed for other things, a pretty home instead of a noisy apartment, trees and flowers instead of pavement. She worked hard, and dreamed of one day having her own place, a little shop perhaps, where she would sell pretty things.

One day her uncle told her of a man he knew who lived miles away in a place called Connecticut. The man had lost his wife, and so his young son had no mother. The man had left the city for a quieter life—and, perhaps, Lucia thought, because the memories were too painful in the home he’d shared with his wife. Because he wrote books, he needed a quiet place, and because he often traveled, he needed someone he could trust with his little boy. The woman who had done these things for the three years since the sad death of his wife wished to move back to New York.

So Lucia took a great leap, and moved out of the city and into the grand house of Phillip Grant and his son, Aaron.

The man was handsome as a prince, and she saw he loved his son. But there was a sorrow in his eyes that touched her heart. The child had had so many changes in his short four years, she understood his shyness with her. She cooked their meals and tended the house, and looked after Aaron while the man wrote his book.

She fell in love with the boy, and he with her. He was not always good, but Lucia would have been sad if he had been. In the evenings, she and Phillip would often talk about Aaron, or books, or ordinary things. She would miss the talks—she would miss him—when he went away for business.

There were times when she looked out the window to watch Phillip play with Aaron, and her heart yearned.

She didn’t know he often did the same. For he’d fallen in love with her, as she had with him. He was afraid to tell her, lest she leave them. And she feared to tell him in case he sent her away.

But one day, in the spring, under the arching blooms of a cherry tree while the little boy they both loved played on the swing, Phillip took Lucia’s hand in his. And kissed her.

When the leaves of the trees turned vivid with autumn, they were married. And lived happily ever after.

Was it any wonder, Emma thought as she pulled her van into the crowded double drive of her parents’ home on Sunday evening, that she was a born romantic? How could anyone grow up with that story, with those people, and not want some of the same for herself?

Her parents had loved each other for thirty-five years, had raised four children in the sprawling old Victorian. They’d built a good life there, a solid and enduring one.

She had no intention of settling for less for herself.

She got the arrangement she’d made out of the van, and hurried across the walk for the family dinner. She was late, she thought, but she’d warned them she would be. Cradling the vase in the crook of her arm, she pushed open the door and walked into a house saturated with the color her mother couldn’t live without.

And as she hurried back toward the dining room, she moved into the noise as colorful as the paints and fabrics.

The big table held her parents, her two brothers, her sister, her sisters-in-law, her brother-in-law, her nieces and nephews—and enough food to feed the small army they made.

“Mama.” She went to Lucia first, kissed her cheek before setting the flowers on the buffet and rounding the table to kiss Phillip. “Papa.”

“

Now it’s family dinner.” Lucia’s voice still held the heat and music of Mexico. “Sit before all the little piggies eat all the food.”

Emma’s oldest nephew made oinking noises and grinned as she took her seat beside him. She took the platter Aaron passed her. “I’m starving.” She nodded, gestured a go-ahead as her brother Matthew lifted a bottle of wine. “Everybody talk so I can catch up.”

“Big news first.” Across the table her sister, Celia, took her husband’s hand. Before she could speak, Lucia let out a happy cry.

“You’re pregnant!”

Celia laughed. “So much for surprises. Rob and I are expecting number three—and the absolute final addition—in November.”

Congratulations erupted, and the youngest member of the family banged her spoon enthusiastically on her high chair as Lucia leaped up to embrace her daughter and her son-in-law. “Oh, there’s no happier news than a baby. Phillip, we’re having another baby.”

“Careful. The last time you told me that, Emmaline came along nine months later.”

With a laugh, Lucia went over to wrap her arms around his neck from behind, press her cheek to his. “Now the children do all the hard work, and we just get to play.”

“Em hasn’t done her part yet,” Matthew pointed out and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“She’s waiting for a man as handsome as her father, and not so annoying as her brother.” Lucia sent Matthew an arch look. “They don’t grow on trees.”