CHAPTER ONE
Since details crowded her mind, many of them blurry, Emma checkedher appointment book over her first cup of coffee. The back- to-back consults gave her nearly as much of a boost as the strong,sweet coffee. Basking in it, she leaned back in the chair in hercozy office to read over the side notes she’d added to eachclient.
In her experience, the personality of the couple— or often, moreaccurately, the bride— helped her determine the tone of theconsult, the direction they’d pursue. To Emma’s way of thinking,flowers were the heart of a wedding. Whether they were elegant orfun, elaborate or simple, the flowers were the romance.
It was her job to give the client all the heart and romance theydesired.
She sighed, stretched, then smiled at the vase of petite roses onher desk. Spring, she thought, was the best. The wedding seasonkicked into high gear— which meant busy days and long nightsdesigning, arranging, creating not only for this spring’s weddings,but also next.
She loved the continuity as much as the work itself.
That’s what Vows had given her and her three best friends.Continuity, rewarding work, and that sense of personalaccomplishment. And she got to play with flowers, live withflowers, practically swim in flowers every day.
Thoughtfully, she examined her hands, and the little nicks andtiny cuts. Some days she thought of them as battle scars and othersas medals of honor. This morning she just wished she’d rememberedto fit in a manicure.
She glanced at the time, calculated. Boosted again, she sprangup. Detouring into her bedroom, she grabbed a scarlet hoodie to zipover her pjs. There was time to walk to the main house before shedressed and prepared for the day. At the main house Mrs. Gradywould have breakfast, so Emma wouldn’t have to forage or cook forherself.
Her life, she thought as she jogged downstairs, brimmed withlovely perks.
She passed through the living room she used as a reception andconsult area, and took a quick scan around as she headed for thedoor. She’d freshen up the flowers on display before the firstmeeting, but oh, hadn’t those stargazer lilies openedbeautifully?
She stepped out of what had been a guest house on the BrownEstate and was now her home, and the base for Centerpiece— her partof Vows.
She took a deep breath of spring air. And shivered.
Damn it, why couldn’t it be warmer? It was April, for God’s sake.It was daffodil time. Look how cheerful the pansies she’d potted uplooked. She refused to let a chilly morning— and okay, it wasstarting to drizzle on top of it— spoil her mood.
She hunched inside the hoodie, stuck the hand not holding hercoffee mug in her pocket, and began to walk to the mainhouse.
Things were coming back to life all around her, she remindedherself. If you looked closely enough you could see the promise ofgreen on the trees, the hint of what would be delicate blooms ofdogwood and cherry blossoms. Those daffodils wanted to pop, and thecrocuses already had. Maybe there’d be another spring snow, but theworst was over.
Soon it would be time to dig in the dirt, to bring some of herbeauties out of the green house and put them on display. She addedthe bouquets, the swags and garlands, but nothing beat MotherNature for providing the most poignant landscape for awedding.
And nothing, in her opinion, beat the Brown Estate for showing itoff.
The gardens, showpieces even now, would soon explode with color,bloom, scent, inviting people to stroll along the curving paths, orsit on a bench, relax in sun or shade. Parker put her in charge— asmuch as Parker could put anyone else in charge— of overseeing them,so every year she got to play, planting something new, orsupervising the landscape team.
The terraces and patios created lovely outdoor living spaces,perfect for weddings and events. Poolside receptions, terracereceptions, ceremonies under the rose arbor or the pergola, orperhaps down by the pond under a willow.
We’ve got it all, she thought.
The house itself? Could anything be more graceful, morebeautiful? The wonderful soft blue, those warm touches of yellowand cream. All the varied rooflines, the arching windows, the lacybalconies added up to elegant charm. And really, the entranceportico was made for crowding with lush greenery or elaboratecolors and textures.
As a child she’d thought of it as a fairyland, complete withcastle.
Now it was home.
She veered toward the pool house, where her partner Mac lived andkept her photography studio. Even as she aimed for it, the dooropened. Emma beamed a smile, shot out a wave to the lanky man withshaggy hair and a tweed jacket who came out.
“ ’Morning, Carter!”
“Hi, Emma.”
Carter’s family and hers had been friends almost as long as shecould remember. Now, Carter Maguire, former Yale prof and currentprofessor of En glish lit at their high school alma mater, wasengaged to one of her best friends in the world.
Life wasn’t just good, Emma thought. It was a freaking bed ofroses.
Riding on that, she all but danced to Carter, tugged him down byhis lapel as she angled up on her toes and kissed himnoisily.
“Wow,” he said, and blushed a little.
“Hey.” Mackensie, her eyes sleepy, her cap of red hair bright inthe gloom, leaned on the doorjamb. “Are you trying to make timewith my guy?”
“If only. I’d steal him away but you’ve dazzled and vampedhim.”
“Damn right.”
“Well.” Carter offered them both a flustered smile. “This is areally nice start to my day. The staffmeeting I’m headed to won’tbe half as enjoyable.”
“Call in sick.” Mac all but purred it. “I’ll give you somethingenjoyable.”
“Hah. Well. Anyway. Bye.”
Emma grinned at his back as he hurried off to his car. “God, heis so cute.”
“He really is.”
“And look at you, Happy Girl.”
“Happy Engaged Girl. Want to see my ring again?”
“Oooh,” Emma said obligingly when Mac wiggled her fingers.
“Ahhh.”
“Are you going for breakfast?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Wait.” Mac leaned in, grabbed a jacket, then pulled the doorclosed behind her. “I didn’t have anything but coffee yet, so . ..” As they fell into step together, Mac frowned. “That’s mymug.”
“Do you want it back now?”
“I know why I’m cheerful this crappy morning, and it’s the samereason I haven’t had time for breakfast. It’s called Let’s Sharethe Shower.”
“Happy Girl is also Bragging Bitch.”
“And proud of it. Why are you so cheerful? Got a man in yourhouse?”
“Sadly no. But I have five consults booked today. Which is agreat start to the week, and comes on the tail of the lovely end tolast week with yesterday’s tea party wedding. It was really sweet,wasn’t it?”
“Our sexagenarian couple exchanging vows and celebratingsurrounded by his kids, her kids, grandchildren. Not just sweet,but also reassuring. Second time around for both of them, and therethey are, ready to do it again, willing to share and blend. I gotsome really great shots. Anyway, I think those crazy kids are goingto make it.”
“Speaking of crazy kids, we really have to talk about yourflowers. December may be far away— she says shivering— but it comesfast, as you well know.”
“I haven’t even decided on the look for the engagement shots yet.Or looked at dresses, or thought about colors.”
“I look good in jewel tones,” Emma said and fluttered herlashes.
“You look good in burlap. Talk about bragging bitches.” Macopened the door to the mudroom, and since Mrs. Grady was back fromher winter vacation, remembered to wipe her feet. “As soon as Ifind the dress, we’ll brainstorm the rest.”
“You’re the first one of us to get married. To have your weddinghere.”
“Yeah. It’s going to be interesting to see how we manage to runthe wedding and be in the wedding.”
“You know you can count on Parker to figure out the logistics. Ifanyone can make it run smooth, it’s Parker.”
They walked into the kitchen, and chaos.
...
评论晒单