dictated its follow-up would take place in the same venue.
As she’d expected, Parker sat at the table working with her Crack—her BlackBerry. The fire had calmed to a cozy simmer, and the coffee had been replaced with the bottle of water Parker was rarely without. Her laptop sat open and beside it rested a tidy stack of files and printouts.
Parker was never anything but prepared.
As Mac came in, Parker set the BlackBerry aside. Her face was cool and blank. Her business-to-attend-to face, Mac knew.
“Don’t say anything. Please. I come bearing chocolate and every possible variety of apology. You can have as many of them as you want—the chocolate and the apologies. My behavior was ass-hatty in the extreme. Everything I said was from the box of stupid I brought in with me. Since I can’t take it back, you have to forgive me. You don’t have a choice.”
She set the plate down. “There’s white chocolate.”
“So I see.” Silently, Parker studied her friend’s face. Even if she hadn’t known Mac nearly all of her life, she’d have seen the signs of a recent crying jag.
“You’re just going to come in here and say you’re sorry after I did all this work so we could fight it out and I could make you crawl?”
“Yes.”
Considering, Parker picked up a white chocolate heart. “I assume you’ve already been through this with Laurel.”
“Yes. Hence the chocolate. I blubbered all over her. I got most of it out, but if you don’t eat that so I know we’re okay, I’m going to start up again. It’s like a symbol. Men shake hands after they beat each other up. We eat chocolate.”
With her eyes on Mac, Parker bit into the heart.
“Thanks, Parker.” Mac dropped into a chair. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“That helps. Let’s just clear the air. If you’ve got a problem with how I’m managing Vows, we have to be able to discuss it, one-on-one or as a group.”
“I don’t. Parks, how could I? How could any of us? Sure the repetition gets old sometimes, but we all know the reason for it. Just like we all know that you hammering out and handling a zillion details frees the rest of us up to focus on our specific parts of the whole. I can do what I do—and the same for Em and Laurel—because you think about everything else. Including thinking about everything the rest of us do so we can all kick wedding ass.”
“I didn’t bring it up so you could stroke my ego.” Parker took another bite of chocolate. “But do go on.”
And we’re back, Mac thought with a laugh. “It’s a fact. You’re anal, obsessive, and a little bit scary with the memory you have for minutiae. And it’s a fact that’s a big part of the reason we kick that ass. I don’t want to do what you do, Parks. None of us do. And because I opened the box of stupid and put my ass hat on, I hit you where I knew it would hurt most.”
Mac glanced at the files. “You put reports together, didn’t you? Documentation, cost analyses and other really mean stuff.”
“I was prepared to squash you like a bug.”
Mac nodded, chose a dark chocolate heart. “Eating candy’s better.”
“It really is.”
“So . . . how did the tour go?”
“They brought their mothers, and an aunt. And a toddler.”
“A toddler?”
“The aunt’s granddaughter. She was cute—and really, really fast on her feet. They toured Felfoot Manor yesterday, and the Swan Resort last week.”
“Hitting the big ones. How’d we measure up?”
“They want a Saturday in April of next year. An entire Saturday.”
“We got it? On a tour and a pitch? A double booking?”
“No booty dance yet.” Parker lifted her water bottle and sipped. “MOB—the one with the gorgeous Prada bag on her arm with the checkbook inside it—wants to meet with all of us. Full consult before commitment. She’s got ideas.”
“Oh-oh.”
“No, she’s got ideas, the sort that would make this a major event. The kind of event that generates serious attention. Father of the bride is Wyatt Seaman, of Seaman Furniture.”
“The ‘We make your house your home’ Seaman Furniture?”
“The same, and his wife has deemed us potentially worthy. Not capital W worthy, yet. But we’re going to give her the presentation to end all presentations.”
Challenge lit Parker’s face, fired in her eyes. “After which, she’ll be taking her checkbook out of that gorgeous Prada bag and giving us a deposit that’ll have our hearts singing hallelujahs.”