used various styles. I’ve got both photographs and sketches of cakes—wedding and groom’s as well as some suggestions should they want to do guest cakes—the same with options for the dessert bar. I have gift boxes of the chocolate to give to the bride and her mother, and a couple extra in case someone else comes along. I’m covered.”
“Okay. Emma?”
“The bride likes tulips, and indicated she wanted them as her signature flower for the event. I’m going garden wedding, since it’s an April affair. I’ll have masses of tulips—clear glass vases, varying shapes and sizes in here. And roses, of course. I’m putting together arrangements—spring colors, scents. Plus boutonnieres. White tulip with a little sprig of lavender to set it off. I’ve done three silk bouquets, designed specifically for her. And I’ll have one that pushes on her tulips. Because that’s the one I think she’ll go with. If she goes, that is.”
She paused to rub her left foot while she worked down her list. “I’ve also done a few varieties for attendants—spring colors again as she hasn’t settled on her colors. I’ve got photos in addition to the samples I made. She’s already seen my space and a lot of my samples and displays, but I’ve changed some up and tailored them to her.
“Laurel helped me sketch out a couple ideas for the pergola area. I had this idea for dogwoods. Young dogwood trees in white urns as a backdrop. We can string them with lights. I want to suggest tussie-mussies instead of corsages for the mothers. I’ve made a few up to show her. I’ll pack arrangements for each of them to take home.”
“We’ve got plenty of photos of all the spaces dressed for spring weddings.” Parker glanced toward Mac.
“I’ve culled out what I feel are the best examples for this client. And ones that I’ve taken on details. As we already discussed, April’s iffy weather and they’ll want tents.”
“Silk tents.”
Mac nodded at Parker. “I’ve read your proposal. And seen Laurel’s sketches. We don’t have photographs of that specific layout, but we have a few that are close. I’ve put together a really strong portfolio of portraits—engagement and wedding, and a separate one with photographs we’ve had in magazines. They skimmed over the albums when they came through—and you indicated Mom’s eyes lit up at the idea of doing an art book. I’m bringing a sample of one. I’m going to take a portrait of the mother and daughter here, during the presentation. I’ll go print it out, frame it, box it, and give it to Mom.”
“That’s great.” Parker grinned. “That’s excellent. For my part I have three scenarios, different styles, that take them from the rehearsal all the way through to departure. I’ve gone back and forth, but I’ve decided to lead off with the one I think is the best.”
“The twenty-first-century fairy princess one,” Emma said. “My favorite.”
“We’ve already put about a hundred hours into this among the four of us,” Laurel pointed out. “Every digit I have is crossed.”
Emma gave a decisive nod. “I have a good feeling about this.”
“You have a good feeling about pretty much everything. If that’s it, I have a mountain of work.”
“Almost,” Parker said as Mac started to rise. “What hurts, Mac?”
“My feet mostly.”
“You might as well spill.” Laurel chose a finger sandwich. “It’s three against one.”
“It’s nothing. And I don’t see why we have to gush every time one of us has a mood.”
“We’re girls,” Emma reminded her. “Your mother has your car.”
“Yes, my mother has my car. She ambushed me this morning. I’m irritated. I’ll be irritated when she decides to bring it back, certainly out of gas, probably with a dent in the fender. End of story.”
“I know when you’re irritated.” Parker tucked up her legs. “That’s not what you were today.”
“It’s what I am now.”
“Because that’s the least of it. Carter was there when she ambushed you, wasn’t he?”
“She came on to him, the way she does with anything that has a penis. Can you imagine how embarrassing that was?”
“Was he upset?” Emma asked.
“About her?” She pushed up to walk back to the window. “I don’t know, I’m not sure. I was too busy being mortified to notice. So I gave her the keys to get her out.”
“I won’t ask what she wanted your car for.” Laurel poured out a cup of tea. “What difference does it make? What I’m wondering is why you’re upset with Carter.”
“I’m not. I’m upset with myself. For letting it happen,