Нора Робертс - Vision in White

“We’re going to try to top it off at about two hundred.”

“Okay.” Parker made notes. “Outdoors, you said. The garden wedding.”

As Parker discussed some of the potential details with Sherry, Mac observed.

Animated would be the first word that came to her mind to describe the bride. Bubbly, cheerful, pretty. Streaky blond hair, summer blue eyes, curvy, casual. Some of the photos, the strategy, would depend on the dress, on the colors, but much centered on who was

in the wedding gown.

She keyed in to some of the details. Six attendants. Bride’s colors pink—pale and candy. And when Sherry pulled out a photograph of the dress, Mac gestured for it. Studied it. Smiled.

“I bet it looks amazing on you. It’s perfect for you.”

“You think? It felt perfect, and I bought it in like two minutes, then—”

“No, sometimes that impulse is right. This is one of those.” The dress boasted a belling acre of sparkly white skirt, an off-the-shoulder bodice and a glittery river of train. “Sexy princess.” Since she had Sherry’s attention for the moment, she pushed her own agenda. “Will you want an engagement portrait?”

“Ah . . . well, I would, but I just don’t like those formal pictures you see so much. You know, he’s standing behind her, and they’re just smiling at the camera. I don’t mean to tell you about your job or anything.”

“That’s okay. My job’s to make you happy. Why don’t you tell me what you and Nick like to do.” When Sherry gave her a slow, sly grin, Mac laughed and watched Carter flush again.

Pretty cute.

“Besides that.”

“We like to eat popcorn and watch really bad movies on DVD. He’s trying to teach me to ski, but the Maguires have a major klutz gene. Carter got the lion’s share, but I’m right behind him. We like to hang out with friends, that kind of thing. He’s a surgical resident, so free time for him’s pretty precious. We don’t plan a lot of stuff. I guess we’re more spontaneous?”

“Got it. If you want, I could come to you. We’d go for casual, relaxed, and at home instead of formal studio.”

“Really? I like the idea. Can it be soon?”

Mac dug out her PDA, keyed in her calendar. “I’ve got a couple of openings this week, a clearer road next. Why don’t you check with Nick, give me some dates and times that work for you. We’ll juggle it in.”

“This is just awesome.”

“You’ll want to look at sample wedding photos,” Mac began.

“I looked at them on the website, like Parker said I should.

And the pictures of the flowers, the cakes and stuff. I want it all.”

“Why don’t we take a look at the different packages,” Parker suggested. “To see what might suit you. We can always tailor one of them for you.”

“This is where I need Carter. Nick said I should go with whatever I want, but that doesn’t

help.”

Damn it again, Carter thought. “Sherry, I don’t know anything about this sort of thing. I just—”

“It’s scary to decide by myself.” She gave him the big-eyed, helpless look that had worked on him since she’d been two. “I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“You don’t have to decide now.” Parker kept her tone light and easy. “And even if you do, then change your mind later, it’s no problem. You’ll have specific consults, with each of us individually. That’ll help. And we can just hold the date for now, and you can sign the contract later.”

“I’d really like to sign today, just to get that checked off the list. There’s so much. Just an opinion, Carter, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you take a look at the options?” Smiling, Parker handed him a binder, opened to the section on packages. “Meanwhile, Sherry, have you decided between a band or a DJ?”

“DJ. We thought it’d be looser, and we could work with him or her, I guess, on the playlist. Do you know anybody good?”

“I do.” Out of another folder, Parker pulled a business card.

“He’s done a lot of events here, and I think he’ll suit you. Give him a call. Videographer?”

On the sofa, Carter pulled out his reading glasses, frowned down at the packages.

So serious, Mac thought. And the nerd sex quotient telescoped up with the wire-rim glasses. He actually looked like a guy studying for an exam. Since Parker and Sherry had their heads together, she decided to give him a break.

“Hey, Carter, maybe you can help me get some more coffee.” He blinked up at her, blue eyes framed in dull silver wire. “Bring the binder, okay?”

She picked up the pretty coffeepot, strolled to the doorway to wait for him. He had to skirt around the coffee table and, she noted, barely missed rapping his shin on it.

“Rest of the team can handle it from here,” she told him. “Your sister figures since you’re big brother, and standing in for the groom, she needs your input. Which, I also figure, she’ll kick to the curb if it doesn’t jibe with what she wants.”

“Okay,” he said as they walked back to the kitchen. “Can I just close my eyes and put my finger on the menu here, be done with it?”

“You could. But what you should do is tell her you think Number Three works best.”

“Number Three.” He laid the binder on the kitchen counter, adjusted his glasses, then read the description. “Why, particularly?”

“Because while it’s very inclusive—and I get the sense she wants somebody else to deal with the fine details—it leaves room for upgrading, and gives her a number of options inside the package. You should also tell her to pick the buffet over the plated meal in that package. Because,” she said before he could ask, “it’s more informal, gives more opportunity for mixing. It suits her. Then, down the road—when you’re out of it, she’ll meet with Laurel about the cake—flavors, design, size, and all that, and Emma about the flowers. Parker handles the rest, and believe me when I tell you she handles. Right now it’s all so big. Once she nails the package, seeing as she’s already got the dress, the venue, me, and so on, she’ll be able to think about the rest of it.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, so I tell her go with Number Three. It covers a lot of the details, has room for upgrading. It has a lot of options included. And she should take the buffet because it’s friendlier, and encourages mixing.”

“You’re good.”

“Absorbing facts and text is easy. If she asks me to help her decide on bouquets, I’m bolting.”

“I respect that.” She handed him the coffeepot. “They don’t need me at this point. Take this back, say your piece. And remind her to let me know what dates work for the engagement portrait.”

“You’re not coming back with me?”

He looked a little panicked. She gave him a quick pat on the cheek. “Bright side. One less woman in the mix. I’ll see you around, Carter.”

He stood where he was a moment as she walked out, and left him with the coffee and the binder.

SKIPPING OUT A LITTLE EARLY GAVE MAC ENOUGH TIME TO answer calls, log in appointments, then add a selection of the latest photos to the website. Since the rest of the afternoon—what was left of it—was free, she decided to spend it doing a last pass of the New Year’s Eve wedding shots.

The phone annoyed her, but she reminded herself business was business and picked up. “Mac Photography at Vows.”

“Mackensie.”

Mac instantly closed her eyes, mimed stabbing herself in the head.

Why didn’t she learn to check the readout, even on the business line? “Mom.”

“You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

“I’ve been working. I told you I’d be swamped this week. Mom, I’ve asked you not to call on the business line.”

“You answered, didn’t you? Which is more than you did the other

three times I called.”

“Sorry.” Just roll with it, Mac told herself. Rolling with it might get it over with quicker since there was no point in telling her mother she didn’t have time to chat during work hours.

“So, how was your New Year’s?” she asked her mother.

There was a single catchy breath that warned Mac a storm was coming.

“I broke up with Martin, which I’d have told you if you’d bothered to answer my calls. It was a horrible night. Horrible, Mac.” The catchy breath became thick with tears. “I’ve been devastated for days.”

Martin, Martin . . . She wasn’t sure she could conjure a clear picture of the current ex-boyfriend. “I’m sorry to hear that. Holiday breakups are tough, but I guess you could look at it as starting the new year with a fresh slate.”

“

How? You know how I loved Martin! I’m forty-two years old, alone and completely shattered.”

Forty-seven, Mac corrected. But what was five years between mother and daughter? At her desk, Mac rubbed her temple. “You broke up with him, right?”

“What difference does it make? It’s over. It’s over, and I was crazy about him. Now I’m alone again. We had a terrible fight, and he was unreasonable and mean. He called me

selfish. And overly emotional, and oh, other awful things. What else could I do but break it off? He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

“Mmmm. Has Eloisa gone back to school?” she asked, hoping to switch the topic to her half sister.

“Yesterday. She just left me here in this state, when I can barely get out of bed in the morning. I have two daughters. I devoted myself to my girls, and neither of them will make the effort to support me when I’m emotionally shattered.”

Since her head was already starting to throb, Mac leaned over to lightly bang it against her desk. “The semester’s starting. She has to go back. Maybe Milton—”

“Martin.”