Bed of Roses tbq-2 Read online

“Absolutely. Just tell Jack what you’d like. Emma, I could use you in the Bride’s Suite. Fifteen minutes, everyone. Just stay calm.”

  “What’s the story?” Emma demanded.

  “Quick update. Two of the bridesmaids are severely hung-over, and one was puking heroically in the bathroom moments ago. MOG had a meltdown when she went in to see her son in the Groom’s Suite, which annoyed MOB—they don’t get along particularly well. Words were exchanged, tempers flared, and continued to flare as the women battled their way to the Bride’s Suite. The drama apparently sent the MOH, who’s eight months pregnant, into labor.”

  “Oh my God. She’s in labor? Now?”

  “It’s Braxton Hicks.” Parker’s face was a study of sheer determination and unassailable will. “It’s going to be Braxton Hicks. Her husband called the doctor, and the MOH convinced him to let us time the contractions for now. Mac and the bride and the rest of the party, not currently puking or moaning, are with her. She and the bride are the only ones keeping their heads. Besides Mac. So.”

  Parker sucked in a breath, opened the door of the Bride’s Suite.

  The MOH lay propped on the little sofa, pale, but apparently calm with the bride—a hairdresser’s cape over her corset and garters—kneeling beside her. Across the room, Mac offered a cool compress to a bridesmaid.

  “How are you doing?” Parker asked as she moved briskly toward the pregnant woman. “Do you want your husband?”

  “No. Let him stay with Pete. I’m okay, really. Haven’t had anything in the last ten minutes.”

  “Nearly twelve now,” the bride told her and held up the stopwatch.

  “Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop saying that.” The bride gave her friend a shoulder rub. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “You should finish getting your hair and your makeup. You should—”

  “It can wait. Everything can just wait.”

  “Actually, it’s a good idea,” Parker said in a tone that managed to be brisk, businesslike, and cheerful all at once. “If you’re not comfortable here, Jeannie, we can move you to my room. It’s quieter.”

  “No, I’m fine here, really. And I’d like to watch. I think he’s gone back to sleep.” She patted the mound of her belly. “Honestly. Jan’s in worse shape than I am.”

  “I’m an idiot.” The attendant with the pale green complexion closed her eyes. “Maggie, just shoot me.”

  “I’m going to have some tea and toast sent up. It should help. Meanwhile, Emma and Mac are here to help out. I’ll be back in two minutes. Any more contractions,” Parker said quietly to Emma, “beep me.”

  “Believe it. Come on, Maggie, let’s make you gorgeous.” She drew Maggie to her feet, passed her to the hairdresser. With the stopwatch in hand, Emma settled down by the expectant mother. “So, Jeannie, it’s a boy?”

  “Yes, our first. I’ve got another four weeks. I had a checkup Thursday. Everything’s fine. We’re fine. How’s my mother?”

  It took Emma a moment to remember Jeannie was the groom’s sister. “She’s fine. Excited and emotional, of course, but—”

  “She’s a wreck.” Jeannie laughed. “One look at Pete in his tux and she dissolved. We heard the wails in here.”

  “Which, of course, set my mother off,” Maggie said from the salon chair. “Then they’re at each other like pit bulls. Jan’s tossing it in the bathroom and Shannon’s curled in a ball.”

  “Better now.” Shannon, a little brunette currently sipping what looked like ginger ale, waved from her own chair.

  “Chrissy’s good, so she took the kids outside for just a bit. She should be back by now.”

  Judging things were under control in this area, Emma glanced at Maggie. “Looks like we’ve cleared the fifteen-minute mark on baby. If Shannon’s up to it, she can take over the timer, and I can go find Chrissy and the kids. Bridesmaid, flower girl, ring bearer?”

  “Please. Thanks so much. This is all just crazy.”

  “We’ve had crazier.” She gave the stopwatch to Shannon, took one more look at Jeannie. The color was back in her cheeks. If anything, she looked serene. “Mac, you’ve got the fort?”

  “No problem. Hey, let’s take some pictures!”

  “You’re a cruel woman,” Jan muttered.

  Emma dashed out. She spotted the MOG on the terrace, sobbing into a tissue while her husband patted her shoulder and said, “Come on, Edie. For God’s sake.”

  She detoured and headed for the main stairs. Parker was already charging back up. “Status?”

  “I think we’re down to yellow status. No more contractions, one hangover well on the mend, the other—hard to tell. The bride’s in hair, and I’m off to round up the last attendant and the kids.”

  “In the kitchen having cookies and milk. If you could take the FG and RB, send the BA up. Mrs. G’s putting tea and toast together. I want to check on the groom, and let the expectant daddy know everything’s okay.”

  “On my way. The MOG’s on the terrace, wildly weeping.”

  Parker set her jaw. “I’ll deal with her.”

  “Good luck.” Emma hurried down, swung toward the kitchen just as Jack came in from the direction of the Grand Hall.

  “Please tell me there’s not a woman delivering a baby upstairs.”

  “That crisis, it seems, has passed.”

  “Well, thank you, Jesus.”

  “POB?”

  “Huh?”

  “Parents of Bride?”

  “Carter’s got them. It seems he teaches a nephew. And the mom’s repairing her makeup or something.”

  “Good. I’ve got to get the last BA, send her up and take over with the FG and RB.”

  His brow furrowed, then he gave up on the code. “Whatever you say.”

  Pausing, Emma considered him. “You’re pretty good with kids, as I recall.”

  “I’m okay. They’re just short.”

  “If you can take the RB—the boy, he’s five—and entertain him for about fifteen minutes, it would help. You can deliver him to the Groom’s Suite as soon as we get the all clear. I’ll take the girl up, help get her dressed.” She glanced at her beeper with some trepidation when it signaled. Then blew out a breath. “Yellow and holding. Good.”

  “Don’t these kids have parents?” he asked as he followed her toward the kitchen.

  “Yes, and both are in the wedding party. They’re brother and sister, twins. The BA with them is Mom. The dad’s a groomsman, so you can take the RB up in ten or fifteen. Just give everything a few more minutes to smooth out. Once I get the FG settled, I need to get back out and finish dressing the outside areas. So—”

  She broke off, fixed a big, happy smile on her face before she pushed into the kitchen.

  In an hour, the bride and attendants were beautified, the groom and his men polished. While Mac organized the separate parties for formal photos, and Parker kept the respective mothers at a distance, Emma finished the outside decor.

  “Want a job?” she asked Jack as he helped cover the last row of chairs.

  “So absolutely not. I don’t know how you do this every weekend.”

  She attached cones holding the palest of pink peonies to selected chairs. “It’s never boring. Tink, I’ve got to run home and change. Guests are arriving.”

  “We’re good here.”

  “Parker estimates we’ll only be about ten minutes late, which is a miracle. There’s food for all of you in the kitchen when we’re done. I’m back in fifteen. Jack, go have a drink.”

  “I plan to.”

  She was back in twelve, having traded her work clothes for a quiet black suit. She pinned boutonnieres while Parker’s voice sounded in her headset. “We’re a go in the Bride’s Suite. Cuing music. Ushers to start escort.”

  She listened to the countdown as she brushed lapels, joked with the groom. She spotted Parker arranging the parents, and Mac getting into position for shots.

  She took a moment, just one, to admire the view o
utside. The crisp white covers on the chairs served as a perfect backdrop for the flowers. All the greens and pinks, from the palest to the deepest, blooming against the shimmer of tulle and lace.

  Then the moment was over as the groom took his place, and the mothers—one teary, the other maybe just a little tipsy on scotch—were escorted to their seats.

  She turned to gather the bouquets and pass them out as Parker lined up the ladies.

  “You all look so beautiful. Still holding, Jeannie?”

  “He’s awake, but behaving.”

  “Maggie, you’re just stunning.”

  “Oh, don’t.” The bride waved a hand in front of her face. “I didn’t think I’d get all choked up, but I’m right on the edge. I’m about to give my new mother-in-law a run for her money.”

  “One breath in, one breath out,” Parker ordered. “Slow and easy.”

  “Okay. Okay. Parker, if I ever need to wage war, you’re my general. Emma, the flowers are . . . Breathe in, breathe out. Daddy.”

  “Don’t you start.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Do you want me to walk you down while I’m blubbering like a baby?”

  “Here now.” Parker reached under the veil, gently dabbed at Maggie’s eyes. “Head up, and smile. Okay, number one, you’re on.”

  “See you on the other side, Mags.” Jan, still a bit pale but beaming, started her walk.

  “And two . . . Go.”

  With her job done for the moment, Emma stepped back while Parker ran the show.

  “Have to admit,” Jack said from beside her, “I didn’t think you were going to pull this one off. Not this smooth. I’m not only impressed, I’m very nearly awestruck.”

  “We’ve had a lot worse than this.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said when her eyes filled.

  “I know. Sometimes they just hit me. I think it was the way the bride handled herself—crisis by crisis—then started to crumble at her big moment. But she’s holding on. Just look at that smile. And look at him look at her.” She sighed. “Sometimes they just hit me,” she repeated.

  “I think you’ve earned this.” Jack held out a glass of wine.

  “Oh boy, have I. Thanks.”

  She hooked her arm through his, tipped her head toward his shoulder. And watched the wedding.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Post-event, they took a moment to unwind in the family parlor. Appreciating every moment, Emma sipped her second glass of wine of the evening.

  “No visible hitches.” She rolled her shoulders, curled and uncurled her bare toes. “And that’s what counts. I expect the wedding party will be telling stories of hangovers, spatting mothers, and baby alert for weeks. But that’s the sort of thing that makes every wedding unique.”

  “I wouldn’t have believed anyone could cry, almost without pause, for nearly six hours.” Laurel popped a couple of aspirin, chased them down with fizzy water. “You’d think it was her son’s funeral instead of his wedding.”

  “I’m going to have to Photoshop the hell out of the MOG’s photos. And even then . . .” Mac shrugged. “I think it’s a brave bride who takes on a mother-in-law who literally howled during the I do’s.”

  Tossing back her head, Mac gave a terrifyingly accurate rendition of Mrs. Carstair’s wail.

  “My head,” Laurel muttered. “My head.”

  From his perch on the arm of the sofa, Carter laughed at Mac even as he gave Laurel’s shoulder a comforting pat. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but that woman scared me.”

  “I think part of it was the upcoming grandchild. It’s all just too much for her.”

  “Then somebody should’ve slipped her a Valium,” Laurel said to Emma. “And I’m not really kidding. I kept waiting for her to throw herself on the wedding cake—like it was a pyre.”

  “Oh man, what a shot that would’ve been.” Mac sighed. “Regrets.”

  “Carter, Jack.” Parker lifted her bottle of water. “You were a huge help. If I’d known the MOG was a wailer, I’d have taken steps beforehand, but she was fine at rehearsal. Even bubbly.”

  “I bet someone slipped her drugs,” Laurel said.

  “What sort of steps?” Jack wondered.

  “Oh, there are all sorts of tricks of the trade.” Parker’s smile hinted at secrets. “I may not have been able to keep her from blubbering all during the ceremony, but I’d have kept her from upsetting the bride and groom during dressing. If Pete and Maggie hadn’t kept their heads, we’d have had a disaster on our hands. Keeping the overly emotional types busy, giving them little assignments usually works.”

  “I know that’s what kept me from crying,” Jack told her.

  “We’ll have to muddle through without the reserve troops tomorrow.” Mac gave Carter a friendly kick from her chair. “They’re deserting us for the Yankees.”

  “And speaking of tomorrow, I’m going up to fall flat so I can get up for it.” Laurel rose. “ ’Night, kids.”

  “There’s our cue. Let’s pack it in, Professor. God, my feet are killing me.”

  Carter turned his back, gestured to it. With a laugh, Mac boosted herself on. “Now this is love,” she said, planting a noisy kiss on the top of his head. “Him for the offer, and me for trusting Professor Grace not to trip and drop me. See you tomorrow. Giddyup!”

  “God, they’re cute.” Emma smiled after them. “Even Scary Linda can’t dull their shine.”

  “She called Mac this morning,” Parker told her.

  “Hell.”

  “Told Mac she’d changed her mind, and expected Mac and Carter to be at her wedding, in Italy, next week. The usual drama and guilt trip when Mac told her it wasn’t possible for her to fly to Italy on such short notice.”

  “Mac didn’t say anything about it to me.”

  “She didn’t want to get into it with the event. Linda, of course, called just as Mac was getting her gear packed for the morning wedding. But the point is, you’re right, she can’t dull the shine. Before Carter, a call like that would’ve sent Mac into the blue. It wasn’t pleasant, but she got through it, set it aside.”

  “The Power of Carter defeats the Power of Linda. I owe him a big kiss.”

  “I’ll see him tomorrow if you want to give it to me,” Jack suggested.

  She leaned over, gave him a prim peck.

  “Kinda stingy.”

  “He belongs to a friend. Okay, getting up, going home.”

  “Eight o’clock briefing,” Parker reminded her.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She smothered a yawn. “How do you feel about piggybacks?” she asked Jack.

  “I like this way better.” In a deliberately dramatic move, he swept her up.

  “Wow. Me, too. ’Night, Parker.”

  “Good night.” And just a little wistfully, Parker watched Jack Rhett Butler Emma out of the parlor.

  “Great exit.” Delighted, Emma pressed her lips to Jack’s cheek. “You don’t have to carry me all the way back.”

  “You think I’m going to let Carter show me up? You know nothing about true competition. It’s good to see Mac look so happy,” he added. “I’ve been around a few times when Linda did a number on her. Tough to watch.”

  “I know.” Idly, Emma fluttered her fingers through Jack’s sun-streaked hair. “She’s the only person I actually and actively dislike. I used to try to find excuses for her, then I realized there just aren’t any.”

  “She hit on me once.”

  Emma’s head jerked up. “What? Mac’s mother hit on you?”

  “Long time ago. Actually there was another time not all that long ago. So that makes two hits. First time I was still in college, spending a couple of weeks here during the summer break. We were all going to a party, and I said I’d swing by and pick up Mac. She didn’t have a car back then. So her mother came to the door, and gave me the kind of once-over you don’t generally get from mothers, then sort of backed me into a corner until Mac got down. It was . . . interesting, and yeah, scary. Scary Linda. Good name.”

&
nbsp; “What were you, twenty? She should be ashamed. Arrested. Something. Now I dislike her more. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “I survived. But if she tries it again, I’m counting on you to protect me. And a lot better than you did with Scary Kellye.”

  “One of these days I’m going to tell her what I think of her. Linda, not Kellye. And if she actually shows up at Mac’s wedding and tries to pull something, I might get violent.”

  “Can I watch?”

  Emma laid her head back down on his shoulder. “I’m calling my mother tomorrow, just to tell her she’s wonderful.” She kissed his cheek again. “And so are you. This is the first time I’ve ever been carried through the moonlight.”

  “Actually, it’s overcast.”

  She smiled. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  Jack studied his hole cards. Poker night had been good to him, so far, but the pair of deuces didn’t look promising. He checked, waited while the bet walked around the table. When it got to Doctor Rod, he tossed in twenty-five. Beside him, Mal folded. Del tossed in his chips. Landscape Frank did the same. Lawyer Henry folded.

  Jack debated briefly, and coughed up the twenty-five.

  Del burned the top card, then turned over the flop. Ace of clubs, ten of diamonds, four of diamonds.

  Possible flush, possible straight. And he had a crap pair of deuces.

  He checked.

  Rod went another twenty-five.

  Carter folded, Del and Frank met the bet.

  Stupid, Jack thought, but he just had a feeling. Sometimes feelings were worth twenty-five.

  He added his chips to the pot.

  Del buried a card, turned the next up. Two of diamonds.

  Now that was interesting. Still, knowing how Rod played, he checked.

  Rod bet another twenty-five, with Del raising it twenty-five more.

  Frank folded. Jack thought about trip deuces. But he still had a feeling.

  He tossed in the fifty.

  “Glad it didn’t scare you off. I’m looking to score here. Need to sweeten the pot.” Rod grinned. “I just got engaged.”

  Del glanced over. “Seriously? We’re dropping like flies.”

  “Congratulations,” Carter said.