“That’s ridiculous and unfair!” The anger in her tone contrasted with the calm in his, and made her feel foolish. “I lent her the damn car to get her out of here. And that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Then I’d say you need to reevaluate that apparently unhealthy relationship.”

“That’s my business.”

“Yes, it is.”

She took a breath, then another. “I don’t want to fight with you. I can’t fight with you right now even if I wanted to. I have to work and prep for the event, and . . . God.”

“Understood. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Carter, I don’t want us to be mad at each other.” She dragged a hand through her hair as he picked up his coat. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to feel like you, like all of this doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“That’s a lot of don’ts, Mackensie.” Studying her, he put on his coat. “You might turn that coin and take a look at what you do want.” He walked to the door. “And a correction? I’m not infatuated with you. I’m in love with you. That’s something we’ll both have to deal with.”

He went out, closed the door quietly.

SHE GOT THROUGH IT. WHATEVER WENT ON IN HER HEART, IN her gut, couldn’t be allowed in her head during an event. Crop it out, she ordered herself, because the day wasn’t about her any more than the day before had been about the idiot brother of the groom.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Emma asked her as they circled the dance floor.

“No. It doesn’t belong here.”

“I saw your mother’s car outside your studio. I didn’t see yours.”

“Not now, Em.”

“This is winding down. I’ll talk to you after.”

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t have time for cookies and soul-searching. I’m working.”

As if, Emma thought, and hunted down Parker. “Something’s wrong with Mac.”

“Yes, I know.” Parker stood by the long entry table supervising the transfer of gifts to the limo outside. “We’ll deal with it after.”

“She’s going to try to evade.” Like Parker, Emma kept an easy smile on her face. “I’m worried because she’s not mad. Usually dealing with her mother makes her mad. It can bring her down, but the mad’s there.”

“Nothing to do until we can do it. Last dance is coming up,” Parker calculated after a glance at her watch. “She’ll want to take the departure shots outside. If she’s in serious brood mode, she’ll go home directly from there. So, we’ll head her off, gauge the ground.”

If she’d been using her head, Mac would have known they were laying for her. But the sheer relief of having it over, of knowing she’d done her job and done it well blocked out the rest.

She lowered her camera as the limo glided down the drive.

“Quick meeting when we’re clear,” Parker announced.

“Listen, I’m behind at the studio. I’ll copy your notes.”

“It won’t take long. We need to make sure everything’s as it should be for the presentation tomorrow. Good evening. Drive safely.” Parker smiled at a group of departing guests. “I think that’s about the last of them. Let’s do the sweep. Take the second floor, will you?”

Annoyed, Mac stomped upstairs. She wanted to go home, damn it. She wanted to be alone, to work. And she wanted to work until her eyes blurred. Then she wanted to go to bed and sleep off this misery.

But no, everything had to be in place first. It was Parker-law.

The subs had set the bride’s and groom’s suites to rights again, but she checked the bathrooms, just in case. They’d once found a wedding guest curled up asleep in the clawfoot tub in the bride’s space—the morning

after an event.

While she finished the security check, she considered ducking out one of the side doors to avoid the meeting. But that would just piss the rest of them off, and they’d come after her.

She didn’t want another confrontation, another emotional scene. Over my quota already, she thought. So she’d be a good girl, do the postevent roundup, get through the briefing for tomorrow’s proposal.

Better anyway, she decided. Less time to think. Thinking was far down the list of activities she wanted to pursue.

It didn’t surprise her to see Laurel setting up tea and finger sandwiches. Vows meetings traditionally included food and beverage of some sort.

“Nice event,” Laurel said casually. “Nobody punched anybody in the face. No booting in the shrubbery, and as far as we know, no one used any of the facilities for inappropriate sex.”

“Sunday events tend to be tame.” Emma slipped out of her shoes and stretched.

“You forget the Greenburg-Fogelman wedding.”

“Oh, yeah. That had all of the above, and more.”

Unable to sit, to settle, Mac wandered to the window. “It’s starting to snow. At least it waited until we were clear.”

“Which we are,” Parker said as she came in. “Cleaning crew’s starting on the Ballroom. Mrs. Seaman may want another look around tomorrow, so we need to shine. Laurel, menu?”

“An assortment of mini pastries, coffee, tea, fresh orange juice. To be followed during my presentation—which is the final—with the cake tasting. We’ll also have an assortment of chocolate with the B and G’s names or monogram in gold. I’ve used various styles. I’ve got both photographs and sketches of cakes—wedding and groom’s as well as some suggestions should they want to do guest cakes—the same with options for the dessert bar. I have gift boxes of the chocolate to give to the bride and her mother, and a couple extra in case someone else comes along. I’m covered.”

“Okay. Emma?”

“The bride likes tulips, and indicated she wanted them as her signature flower for the event. I’m going garden wedding, since it’s an April affair. I’ll have masses of tulips—clear glass vases, varying shapes and sizes in here. And roses, of course. I’m putting together arrangements—spring colors, scents. Plus boutonnieres. White tulip with a little sprig of lavender to set it off. I’ve done three silk bouquets, designed specifically for her. And I’ll have one that pushes on her tulips. Because that’s the one I think she’ll go with. If she goes, that is.”

She paused to rub her left foot while she worked down her list. “I’ve also done a few varieties for attendants—spring colors again as she hasn’t settled on her colors. I’ve got photos in addition to the samples I made. She’s already seen my space and a lot of my samples and displays, but I’ve changed some up and tailored them to her.

“Laurel helped me sketch out a couple ideas for the pergola area. I had this idea for dogwoods. Young dogwood trees in white urns as a backdrop. We can string them with lights. I want to suggest tussie-mussies instead of corsages for the mothers. I’ve made a few up to show her. I’ll pack arrangements for each of them to take home.”

“We’ve got plenty of photos of all the spaces dressed for spring weddings.” Parker glanced toward Mac.

“I’ve culled out what I feel are the best examples for this client. And ones that I’ve taken on details. As we already discussed, April’s iffy weather and they’ll want tents.”

“Silk tents.”

Mac nodded at Parker. “I’ve read your proposal. And seen Laurel’s sketches. We don’t have photographs of that specific layout, but we have a few that are close. I’ve put together a really strong portfolio of portraits—engagement and wedding, and a separate one with photographs we’ve had in magazines. They skimmed over the albums when they came through—and you indicated Mom’s eyes lit up at the idea of doing an art book. I’m bringing a sample of one. I’m going to take a portrait of the mother and daughter here, during the presentation. I’ll go print it out, frame it, box it, and give it to Mom.”

“That’s great.” Parker grinned. “That’s excellent. For my part I have three scenarios, different styles, that take them from the rehearsal all the way through to departure. I’ve gone back and forth, but I’ve decided to lead off with the one I think is the best.”

“The twenty-first-century fairy princess one,” Emma said. “My favorite.”

“We’ve already put about a hundred hours into this among the four of us,” Laurel pointed out. “Every digit I have is crossed.”

Emma gave a decisive nod. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“You have a good feeling about pretty much everything. If that’s it, I have a mountain of work.”

“Almost,” Parker said as Mac started to rise. “What hurts, Mac?”

“My feet mostly.”

“You might as well spill.” Laurel chose a finger sandwich. “It’s three against one.”

“It’s nothing. And I don’t see why we have to gush every time one of us has a mood.”

“We’re girls,” Emma reminded her. “Your mother has your car.”

“Yes, my mother has my car. She ambushed me this morning. I’m irritated. I’ll be irritated when she decides to bring it back, certainly out of gas, probably with a dent in the fender. End of story.”

“I know when you’re irritated.” Parker tucked up her legs. “That’s not what you were today.”

“It’s what I am now.”

“Because that’s the least of it. Carter was there when she ambushed you, wasn’t he?”

“She came on to him, the way she does with anything that has a penis. Can you imagine how embarrassing that was?”

“Was he upset?” Emma asked.

“About her?” She pushed up to walk back to the window. “I don’t know, I’m not sure. I was too busy being mortified to notice. So I gave her the keys to get her out.”

“I won’t ask what she wanted your car for.” Laurel poured out a cup of tea. “What difference does it make? What I’m wondering is why you’re upset with Carter.”

“I’m not. I’m upset with myself. For letting it happen, for letting it get this far, and not