He heard her sigh, watched her close her eyes as she sat on the bed.

“Bad news?”

“Hysterical, weeping brides are never good.” When she listened to the second message, she opened the drawer of her nightstand, took out a roll of Tums, thumbed one off.

“What’s the problem?”

“She had a fight with her sister, who’s also her maid of honor, about the dress she wants her to wear.The MOH hates it, and according to Clara, the groom took the sister’s side, resulting in another big fight with him walking out of their apartment. I have to return her call. It may take a while.”

“Fine.” He shrugged, glugged down some water. “I get to see how you fix it.”

“Appreciate the confidence,” she replied, then hit the key to return the call.

“Want something stronger than water?”

She shook her head. “Clara, it’s Parker. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the phone quicker.”

She lapsed into silence during which Malcolm could hear the hysterical bride’s voice if not the words. High-pitched, full of angry tears.

So, he concluded, the strategy was to let her vent it out, pour out the anger and tears to a sympathetic ear.While Clara vented, Parker rose to open the terrace doors. Cool air blew in, lightly scented with the night. Malcolm appreciated the way it fluttered Parker’s robe.

“Of course you’re upset.” Parker all but cooed it. Cool air, he thought again, over hot temper.“No one can really understand the stress of all the decisions and the details but you. Naturally you were hurt, Clara. Anyone would be. But I think . . . Um-hmm. Ah.”

She continued to make soothing and agreeable noises as she closed the doors again, walked back to the bed to sit.And this time rested her head on updrawn knees.

“I understand exactly, and you’re right, it’s your wedding. It’s your day. My sense is that Nathan wanted to help—Yes, I know that, but let’s face it, Clara, men just don’t get it, do they?”

She turned her face, offered Malcolm a smile and eye roll. “And sometimes they just step in it, then can’t figure how to get out. I really think Nathan was trying to smooth things over with you and Margot because he hated for you to be upset. He just went about it clumsily.”

She listened again, and Malcolm could hear the bride’s tone clicking down several levels.

“It’s not that the details aren’t important to him, Clara, it’s that you’re more important.Anger and stress, Clara, on both your parts. You know he adores you, and he knows, too, how much you and Margot mean to each other. No.” She cast her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t think you were wrong.”

She mouthed: Yes, I do.

“I think emotions got the best of everyone. And, Clara, I know how much you’d regret it if your sister wasn’t standing beside you on the most important day of your life.Yes, the dress is important. It’s very important. I think I can help there.Why don’t we all meet at the shop next week? You, Margot, and me. I’m sure I can find something that makes you both happy.”

She listened another minute or two, adding soothing noises, directing the solution in easy tones.

“That’s right.Why don’t you call Nathan now? Yes, I know, but how happy are either of you going to be if you let this fester between you? The dress is important, but nothing’s more important than you and Nathan starting your life together . . . I know you will.” She laughed. “I bet. I’ll see you and Margot Tuesday. That’s what I’m here for. Good night.”

“Good job.”

Parker blew out a breath.“She wants her sister to wear celadon, which the sister hated. Said it makes her look sallow, and having met Margot, I’m sure it did.”

“What the hell is celadon?”

“It’s kind of a celery color. A good sister shouldn’t want her MOH to look sallow, but a good MOH sucks it up and wears what the bride wants. It’s basic wedding rules. So, huge fight, which continues via phone, drawing the MOB in, who wisely kept her mouth shut.Then the poor groom tries to defuse the situation, telling the furious bride that it’s no big, just pick another dress. It’s all about you and me, baby. To which the bride explodes, and so on and so forth.”

“So it’s all about celery.”

She laughed. “The celery is the MacGuffin. It’s about power, control, emotions, stress, and family dynamics.”

“You got her to agree to a different dress and call the guy all without telling her she was stupid.”

“That’s the job. Plus she wasn’t stupid so much as too focused on the minutiae, which she should leave to me.”

“And the minutiae is why you keep Tums in the nightstand?”

“They help when furious, crying brides call at night.” She pushed her hair back over her shoulders, studied his face. “I have to get up early.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, I don’t, but if you stay, you need to know I have to get up early.”

“It’s handy because so do I.” He set the water down, then reached out to pull her hair back over her shoulders. “Why don’t we take round two a little slower?”

She linked her arms around his neck. “Why don’t we?”

HE HEARD THE BEEP, OPENING ONE EYE TO THE DARK. HE FELT Parker stir beside him then reach over to turn off the alarm.

“I should’ve asked you to define early,” he mumbled.

“Full plate today, and I want to get my workout in before it starts.”

He opened both eyes to read the clock. Five fifteen. Could be worse. “I wouldn’t mind a workout. Next time I’ll bring some gear.”

“I’ve got extra gear if you want to use the gym.”

“I don’t think yours’ll fit me.”

She turned the light on low as she rose and, swinging on the robe, walked to an adjoining door. “Just a minute.”

In just about that minute, while he contemplated catching another half hour of sleep, she came in carrying a gray T-shirt, gym shorts, and socks.

“Del’s?”

“No. I keep a supply of various things for guests.”

“You keep clothes for guests?”

“Yes.” She dropped them on the bed. “And as you can see, it’s a useful habit. Unless you were just making noises about a workout.”