Vision In White - By Nora Roberts Page 0,104

result. Tweaked, cropped, printed, and framed. To do it right she boxed it, tied it with a red ribbon, and tucked a sprig of silk lily of the valley in the bow.

Delighted, she printed out another of the shots for herself, selected a frame. She put the finished photo in a drawer. She wouldn’t set it out until he had his.

She turned music on, clicked the volume down to background. She worked, happy with the world in general, until the timer she’d set beeped telling her it was time to set up for her studio shoot.

Engagement portrait. She a doctor, he a musician. Mac had some ideas for them, and had asked him to bring his guitar. Medium gray background, bride and groom sitting on the floor and—

She turned, a fat floor pillow in her hands as her door burst open. Her mother all but exploded into the room, wrapped in a new jacket of sheared silver mink.

“Mackensie! Look!” She did a twirl, ending in a hipshot runway pose.

“You can’t be here now,” Mac said flatly. “I have clients coming.”

“I’m a client. I’m here for a consult. I came here first, but we have to get the rest of the team. Oh, Mac!” Linda rushed forward, all scissoring legs, gorgeous shoes, sumptuous fur. “I’m getting married!”

Caught in her mother’s perfumed embrace, Mac just closed her eyes. “Congratulations. Again.”

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Linda eased back, pouted for half a second, then did another laughing spin. “Be happy. Be happy for me. I’m so happy! Look what Ari brought me back from Paris.”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful jacket.”

“It really is.” Tipping her head down, Linda rubbed her chin against the fur. “But that’s not all!” She flung out her hand, wiggled her fingers. On the third rode an enormous square-cut diamond set in platinum.

Hell of a rock, Mac thought. Biggest so far. “It’s impressive.”

“The darling. He was miserable without me. He called me night and day from Paris.” She hugged herself, then did another spin. “Of course, I wouldn’t speak to him for the first three days. It was so mean of him to go without me. Naturally I refused to see him when he first got back.”

“Naturally,” Mac agreed.

“He begged me to come to New York. He sent a limo and a driver for me—and the car was full of white roses. And a bottle of Dom. But first, he sent dozens of roses, every day. Every day! I had to give in and go to him. Oh, it was so romantic.”

Closing her eyes, Linda crossed her arms over her chest. “Like a dream or a movie. We had dinner alone, at home. He had it catered with all my favorites, and more champagne, candlelight, more roses. He told me he couldn’t live without me, then he gave me this. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Mac watched her mother admire the ring. “I hope you’ll be very happy together. I do. And I’m glad you’re happy now. But I have a shoot.”

“Oh.” With a wave of her hand, Linda dismissed it. “Reschedule, for heaven’s sake. This is major. Your mother’s getting married.”

“For the fourth time, Mom.”

“For the last time. To the right man. And I want you to do the wedding, of course. I need your very best for this. Ari said not to consider the cost. I want something fabulous and romantic and elegant. Sophisticated and lavish. I’m thinking pale pink gown. Valentino, I think, he suits me. Or I might look for something vintage, something old Hollywood. And a wonderful hat rather than a veil.”

Eyes sparkling, she fluffed a hand through her hair. “Some sleek updo, and I’ll have Ari buy me some amazing earrings to set it all off. Pink diamonds, I think. Then masses and masses of white and pink roses. I’ll speak to Emmaline there. We’ll need the invitations to go out right away. I’m sure Parker can take care of it. And the cake. I want massive. The Taj Mahal of wedding cakes, so Laurel will have to outdo herself. And—”

“When?” Mac interrupted.

“When what?”

“When are you planning to do this?”

“Oh. June. I want to be a June bride. I want spring and gardens and—”

“This June? As in three months from now? We’re booked solid.”

“As if that matters.” With a bright laugh, Linda whisked such mundane matters aside. “I’m your mother. Bump somebody. Now—”

“We don’t bump clients, Mom. We can’t ruin someone else’s wedding because you want a date in June at the last minute.”

Sincere—Mac

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