“Good. And Laurel.”

“Also on the same page. I’ve asked Charles, the pastry chef at the Willows, if he can take time to work with me on Mac’s wedding. I told you how good he is. He’s thrilled. I have to wheedle the time off for him, but I know how to handle Julio,” she added, speaking of the restaurant’s temperamental head chef.

“I think we’ve got that covered,” Parker told her. “We’ll need to have some strategy meetings, and all of these extra hands will need a tour of the event spaces, a tutorial on how we work. Mac, I’ve started the timetable for your wedding.”

“My timetable,” Mac said, and grinned. “Parker made me a timetable.”

“It’s varied from our usual, because it’s you, and it’s us. We’ll work out any time constraints during rehearsal, which I also wanted to talk to you about.The rehearsal dinner . . .”

“We’ll probably book the Willows, but . . .”

Parker met Mac’s eyes, read them, smiled. “I was hoping you would.”

“Oh yes!” Understanding the looks, Emma clapped her hands together. “Have it here. It’s perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Laurel agreed. “Even with the added work, the cleanup, it’s just right.”

“Settled?”

Mac reached across the table, squeezed Parker’s hand.“Settled.”

“New business. It would be oddly new business. I got a call from Katrina Stevens. Memory refresher. She was one of our first brides. Towering, pencil-thin blonde, big laugh. I believe one of her attendants was the first to have sex with a groomsman in the Bride’s Suite.”

“Oh yeah!” Mac held up a hand. “She was easily six feet tall, wore spikes that added another four inches.The groom was about six-eight.They looked like Nordic gods.”

“Silver Palace cake, six layers,” Laurel recalled.

“White roses, eggplant callas,” Emma confirmed.

“She and Mica are getting a divorce.”

“Can’t win them all. Too bad though,” Laurel added. “They made an impressive couple.”

“Apparently, at least according to Katrina, he didn’t mind impressing others, and when she caught him doing so with one of his clients, she kicked him out. There was some back and forth, separation, reconciliation, separation, and now she’s done.The divorce will be final in late February. She wants a divorce party. Here.”

“A divorce party?” Emma’s lips moved into a pout. “That doesn’t seem nice.”

“I don’t think she’s feeling particularly nice toward Mica, but she did sound as though she’s feeling energized and happy. She’s gotten the idea in her head that she wants to celebrate what she’s calling the new start of her life, and she wants to do it here—in style.”

Parker lifted the water bottle that was never far from her hand. “It’s not what we do, which I explained to her, but she’s got the bit between her teeth. She’s set on it, willing to book a full day in one of our slowest months, not counting the Valentine’s Day madness. I felt I had to put it out there for discussion.”

“Just how do we list that kind of event on the website?” Mac muttered.

“I think divorce should make you sad, or mad.” Emma frowned over her tea.“I can see going out, getting toasted with some friends, but this seems mean.”

“Cheating on your wife’s meaner,” Laurel pointed out.

“No question, but it’s . . .” Emma moved her shoulders to mime discomfort. “And here, where they got married.”

“It’s probably small of me, but I like the way she’s thinking.” Laurel shrugged and bit into a carrot straw. “Like she’s closing a circle, and instead of bitching or mourning—and maybe, probably she’s already done both—she’s marking it with food, drink, flowers, music, friends. I wouldn’t like to see us do this sort of thing regularly, but I can sort of see it for a returning customer.”

“Maybe we should have a package deal.” Mac snagged a sandwich. “We planned your wedding, now we’ll plan your divorce. Celebrate at ten percent off.”

“Did they have kids?” Emma wondered.

“No.”

She nodded at Parker. “Well, that’s something, I guess. You haven’t said what you think about it.”

“I had all the same reactions the three of you’ve had, in various degrees.” She lifted her hands, let them fall. “My initial instinct was just no.Then, the more she talked, the more I saw where she was coming from, and why she wanted it.Then I stacked all those instincts and reactions up and took a hard look. It’s business, and it’s really none of our business if a client wants to hire us to celebrate the end of a bad marriage.”

“You’re voting yes?” Mac asked.

“I’m voting yes because she told me she wanted to have this party, this new beginning, here especially because it would remind her that the other beginning had started out beautifully, and full of love and hope.That it would help remind her she hadn’t made a mistake. Things changed, and now she was going to start again, and by God, she was going to keep right on believing in love and hope. She sold me.”

“You have to admire her—what is it?—chutzpa,” Mac commented.

“I’m voting with Parker, and further vote that if anything like this comes up again, we take it on a case-by-case basis.” Laurel looked around the table.“It’s business, but if the client’s just looking to take swipes at an ex, even deservedly, I don’t think this is the place.”

“Agreed,” Parker said instantly. “And if I’d gotten that sense, I would have steered her away.”

“Okay.” Mac nodded. “Case by case.”

“I’ll go along,” Emma decided,“because it sounds like she’s just closing a door, and wants to see what’s behind others. But it still makes me sad.”

“With that, I have other new business that I hope cheers you up. I’ve finished fine-tuning the book proposal.”

“Seriously?” Emma gaped.“I don’t know if I’m cheered up or just scared.”

“I’m going to e-mail you all the file. I want you to edit, adjust, suggest, bitch, moan, scoff. And in the portions that apply to the work you’d do on the project, double all of those. Like this event, this project has to be something we’re all agreed on, happy with. We all have to want it.”