She didn’t need another ticket, so she kept an eye on the speedometer. She especially wasn’t going to speed on the way to a meeting with Carrie Edwards; it was all she could do to keep the car heading in the right direction, and even then she flirted with the idea of calling her mother and saying, “I’m throwing up, have hives, and probably the measles; can you handle my meeting with Carrie?” So what if Madelyn was occupied with getting the final details in place for a wedding tomorrow, and had the rehearsal to get through? Madelyn was the one who had taken Carrie’s booking in the first place, so it was only right she should share some of the joy of dealing with her.

Jaclyn sighed. No, she couldn’t do that to her mother. Well, maybe she couldn’t. She certainly wasn’t in a hurry to meet with Carrie, who was the worst of the worst in a business that often seemed to bring out the worst in some women. Sometimes a client would be a delight from start to finish, but just as often one of the principals would make her think there really was something to be said for getting married at a courthouse or an all-night chapel in Vegas—not that she’d be foolish enough to say so aloud. After all, weddings were her bread and butter.

Today’s meeting with Carrie was at Premier’s office, located in Buckhead, but tomorrow there were several consultations—with the caterer, the cake-maker, and the florist—that would take place at the reception hall in Hopewell. Carrie’s initial orders had been made months ago, but there were several last-minute decisions to be made and Bridezilla was dragging her feet. The bride should be going to the vendors for these consultations, but Carrie had insisted on holding court and making them all come to her. In her mind, she was Important, which meant people came to her instead of the other way around.

Because this was a big and very expensive wedding—the groom was the son of a state senator—they’d all agreed. And naturally, the bride had insisted that Jaclyn be there as well. Carrie Edwards did a lot of insisting. Tomorrow was shaping up to be another crappy day, just on the basis of dealing with Carrie, plus she had the first of those six-weddings-in-five-days to get through. Even though Madelyn was handling the wedding, inevitably there were last-minute emergencies that required extra help, even if it was nothing more than spending time on the phone locating an emergency replacement for a limousine that was the wrong color, or wouldn’t start, or the flower girl threw up on the groom and a new tuxedo was needed. On the day of a wedding, they had to be ready for literally anything to happen.

Jaclyn arrived at the office barely five minutes before the scheduled meeting. Naturally, Carrie was already there, waiting in her private office. Diedra, Jaclyn’s assistant, sat at the outer desk, which was piled with books and fabric swatches and photographs. She gave Jaclyn an exaggerated expression of sympathy, and frustration, as she nodded toward the office door.

Jaclyn squared her shoulders and turned the door handle. She didn’t have a chance to step into the room before Carrie turned, an expression of dissatisfaction on her beautiful face. She was truly stunning: a curvy, perfectly proportioned figure, golden blond hair, smooth skin, clear green eyes. Her personality, though, ran the gamut from nasty to mean. “What kind of coffee is this? Surely you can afford a better brand. This is too bitter. And I have to say, your secretary—”

“Diedra isn’t my secretary, she’s my assistant,” Jaclyn interrupted as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She ignored the comment about the coffee, which she personally liked very much. No one was holding Carrie down and pouring the coffee down her throat, so she was free not to drink it if she didn’t like it. After all, she could have chosen from a variety of flavored teas, or even soft drinks.

“Well, she was rude.” Carrie didn’t like being interrupted. She also didn’t like not getting her way in all things. She was still carrying a grudge because Jaclyn hadn’t been able to book Michael Buble for the reception. Get real. Jaclyn hadn’t embarrassed herself by even trying.

“In what way, dear?” She made her tone soothing, and tacked on the “dear” even though her tongue almost shriveled with distaste when she forced herself to say it. Sometimes a comforting “dear” or “honey” could soothe the most fractious of clients—then again, some clients would have required a tranquilizer dart. Carrie would probably need the same dosage one would use on a mad rhino.

“She tried to make me wait outside, instead of in here.”

“That’s because I don’t like people in my office unless I’m also here,” Jaclyn said calmly. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Don’t be silly. Why should you care?”

“Because I keep confidential information in here. I suppose I’ll simply start locking the door. I should have been doing that anyway.” The confidential information wasn’t anything relating to security or credit card numbers, but rather the details of weddings—and, yes, some clients would pay dearly to find out what so-and-so was planning, or how much someone else paid. Weddings were a cutthroat business.

Carrie gave her a hard, cold look, but evidently realized she wasn’t going to get any traction on this issue, so she moved on to her next complaint. “I’ve changed my mind about the bridesmaids’ dresses,” Carrie said. “The shade of the fabric is too plain, all of them in gray like a line at West Point or something. I think it would look better if the one closest to me was in black, then the next dress would be a shade lighter, the next one a shade lighter than that, and so on. That would be really dramatic, don’t you think? And instead of having the sashes in pink, I think I’d like teal. Pink is too Paris Hilton. I want something more sophisticated, like teal. But not a greenish teal, I want something more on the blue side. You can take care of the problem, can’t you?”

Jaclyn bit her tongue. The poor bridesmaids had already paid for the hideous dresses, and Carrie, of course, hadn’t chosen an inexpensive fabric. The color wasn’t hideous, but the design certainly was. She’d tried to steer Carrie away from flounces and bows, but if Carrie ran into anything even remotely resembling good advice, so far she’d invariably run in the opposite direction. When the unfortunate bridesmaids found out about this change—when they found out they were going to have to pay for another dress, and this time a hefty charge for a rush order would be included—they’d probably all storm out. The girl who’d let Carrie have it and quit the wedding party was apparently the smart one.

“Carrie,” Jaclyn said in a purposely soothing voice, “it’s really too late to make this change. I think you’ll be very happy with the look of the bridesmaids’ dresses, when you see them with the flowers you’ve chosen.”

“I’m thinking of changing the flowers, too,” Carrie said, a gleam in her eye telling Jaclyn she was actually enjoying being difficult. “They’re just not right. I was studying the sample pictures last night, and they look like someone vomited Pepto Bismol. I saw the most wonderful arrangement in a magazine. If I change the flowers, then I also need to completely redo the bridesmaids’ look.”

“This will be quite an expense for your friends.”

Carrie’s lips pursed, her eyes narrowed. “They won’t mind. This is my special day, and they’ll do whatever I want them to do.” In her tone was an unspoken or else.

“If you insist, you can call the dressmaker and—”

“I want you to do it,” Carrie said carelessly. “I don’t have time.” She opened her expensive, oversized handbag, withdrew a fabric sample, and slapped it onto the desk. Jaclyn could tell at a glance it was a fine, heavy silk—another expensive choice, something that would set each bridesmaid back several hundred dollars, perhaps even more than a thousand. “Besides, when I called her this morning to discuss the matter, she was hateful and unreasonable.”

Dealing with the dressmaker technically wasn’t in Jaclyn’s job description; she handled the details of the event itself. But she knew Gretchen pretty well; they ran in the same circles, they very often worked the same weddings. Gretchen was never hateful or unreasonable, but then again, Carrie Edwards had the ability to bring out the worst in everyone.

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t make any promises. We’re running out of time, to the point there literally may not be anything you can do other than buying the bridesmaids’ dresses off the rack—”

“No. Never.”

“Then you may have to go with your original choice. Now, as far as the flowers are concerned, the floral designer has already put in a lot of time making sure every aspect of the wedding and reception are well coordinated and original, as you requested,” she reminded Carrie. “If you change your mind about the bridesmaids’ bouquets it will affect the bridal arrangement and the boutonnieres, as well as the arrangements for the reception.” Bishop Delaney was a genius. He also had a very low bullshit threshold, and if he walked it would be difficult to find someone reputable at this late date. “If you insist on making changes, be prepared to pay quite a bit more than you were originally quoted.”

“Why?” Carrie demanded. “If I don’t use the other flowers, why should I pay for them?”

“Because the designer has already spent a considerable amount of time making arrangements, and he shouldn’t have to take a loss because you changed your mind. His initial order has already been placed, I’m sure, but I’m not sure that he’ll be able to cancel.” Tomorrow was supposed to be about Bishop showing photos and drawings of his grand plans, not a point to start from scratch. Jaclyn did not want to be between Bishop and Carrie if they butted heads.