“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, for letting it get this far, and not thinking, not staying anywhere close to Planet Reality.”

“You’re not talking about Scary Linda now,” Laurel concluded.

“Oh, Mac.” Emma’s eyes darkened in sympathy. “You had a fight with Carter.”

“No. Yes. No.” Frustrated, Mac spun around. “You can’t have a fight with someone like him. People in a fight yell, or storm around. They say things they regret later. That’s why they call them fights. All he can do is be reasonable.”

“Damn the man,” Laurel stated and earned a vicious glare.

“You try it. You try to make someone like Carter understand you’ve taken the wrong direction and have everything you say bounce off the wall of calm logic.”

“You broke up with him.” From the tone, Emma’s sympathy took a sharp turn toward Carter.

“I don’t know what I did. Besides, how can you break up with someone when you haven’t said you’re together? Officially. It’s me, it’s my fault, and he won’t even listen to that. I know I let it go too far. I got caught up, swept up. Something. And when my mother walked in this morning, it was a solid slap back to reality.”

“You’re going to let her push your buttons on this?” Parker demanded.

“No. It’s not like that.” Mac spoke fiercely because part of her worried it was like that. Exactly like that. “I don’t want to hurt him. That’s what it comes down to. He thinks he’s in love with me.”

“Thinks?” Laurel repeated. “Can’t be?”

“He’s romanticized it. Me. Everything.”

“This would be the same man who can only be reasonable. The calm wall of logic.” Lips pursed, Parker tilted her head. “But about you he’s stuck in fantasy?”

“He can have layers,” Mac argued, suddenly feeling tired and defeated.