Nature for providing the most poignant landscape for a wedding.
And nothing, in her opinion, beat the Brown Estate for showing it off.
The gardens, showpieces even now, would soon explode with color, bloom, scent, inviting people to stroll along the curving paths or sit on a bench, relax in sun or shade. Parker put her in charge—as much as Parker could put anyone else in charge—of overseeing them, so every year she got to play, planting something new, or supervising the landscape team.
The terraces and patios created lovely outdoor living spaces, perfect for weddings and events—poolside receptions, terrace receptions, ceremonies under the rose arbor or the pergola, or perhaps down by the pond under a willow.
We’ve got it all, she thought.
The house itself? Could anything be more graceful, more beautiful? The wonderful soft blue, those warm touches of yellow and cream. All the varied rooflines, the arching windows, the lacy balconies added up to elegant charm. And really, the entrance portico was made for crowding with lush greenery or elaborate colors and textures.
As a child she’d thought of it as a fairyland, complete with castle.
Now it was home.
She veered toward the pool house where her partner Mac lived and kept her photography studio. Even as she aimed for it, the door opened. Emma beamed a smile, shot out a wave to the lanky man with shaggy hair and a tweed jacket who came out.
“ ’Morning, Carter!”
“Hi, Emma.”
Carter’s family and hers had been friends almost as long as she could remember. Now, Carter Maguire, former Yale prof and current teacher of English Lit at their high school alma mater, was engaged to one of her best friends in the world.
Life wasn’t just good, Emma thought. It was a freaking bed of roses.
Riding on that, she all but danced to Carter, tugged him down by the lapels as she angled up on her toes and kissed him noisily.
“Wow,” he said, and blushed a little.
“Hey.” Mackensie, her eyes sleepy, her cap of red hair bright in the gloom, leaned on the doorjamb. “Are you trying to make time with my guy?”
“If only. I’d steal him away but you’ve dazzled and vamped him.”
“Damn right.”
“Well.” Carter offered them both a flustered smile. “This is a really nice start to my day. The staff meeting I’m headed to won’t be half as enjoyable.”
“Call in sick.” Mac all but purred it. “I’ll give you something enjoyable.”
“Hah. Well. Anyway. Bye.”
Emma grinned at his back as he hurried off to his car. “God, he is 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 door closed behind her. “I didn’t have anything but coffee yet, so . . .” As they fell into step together, Mac frowned. “That’s my mug.”
“Do you want it back now?”
“I know why I’m cheerful this crappy morning, and it’s the same reason I haven’t had time for breakfast. It’s called Let’s Share the Shower.”
“Happy Girl is also Bragging Bitch.”
“And proud of it. Why are you so cheerful? Got a man in your house?”
“Sadly no. But I have five consults booked today. Which is a great start to the week, and comes on the heels of the lovely end to last week with yesterday’s tea party wedding. It was really sweet, wasn’t it?”
“Our sexagenarian couple exchanging vows and celebrating while surrounded by his kids, her kids, grandchildren. Not just sweet, but also reassuring. Second time around for both of them, and there they are, ready to do it again, willing to share and blend. I got some really great shots. Anyway, I think those crazy kids are going to make it.”
“Speaking of crazy kids, we really have to talk about your flowers. December may be far away—she says shivering—but it comes fast, 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 her lashes.
“You look good in burlap. Talk about bragging bitches.” Mac opened the door to the mud room, and since Mrs. Grady was back from her winter vacation, remembered to wipe her feet. “As soon as I find the dress, we’ll brainstorm the rest.”
“You’re the first one of us to get married. To have your wedding here.”
“Yeah. It’s going to be interesting to see how we manage to run the