Things of beauty.

Handbags, again by function and color, sat easily accessed in generous cubbies. Inside the glossy white drawers of the built-ins lived scarves—once doomed to tangled knots or jumbled piles, neatly folded, as did her dressier sweaters, her hosiery.

It made getting dressed an absolute stress-free pleasure. No more hunting, no more cursing, no more wondering where the hell she’d put that blue shirt with the French cuffs then having to settle for another blue shirt when she couldn’t find it.

Because the blue shirt with the French cuffs was right there, where it belonged.

She pulled on a white tank, a navy V-neck with jeans, suitable wardrobe for the morning’s work, and the early afternoon shoot. Satisfied and smug, she strolled out.

Strode back in to stuff her pajamas in the hamper.

She walked downstairs just as Emma came in the front door.

“I’m out of coffee. Help me.”

“Sure. I was just about to . . . Oh, Carter must’ve made some before he left.”

“I don’t want to hate you for having someone who’ll make coffee while you sleep, but I need caffeine for my altruistic side to wake up.” Emma poured herself a mug, all but inhaled the first sip. “Life. It’s good again.”

Mac poured her own and drank in agreement. “Wanna see my closet?”

“I’ve seen it three times now. Yes, it’s the queen of all the closets in all the land.”

“Well, Parker’s is the queen.”

“Parker’s is the goddess of closets. You take queen. Saturday’s bride called,” Emma continued. “She thinks she wants to change the flower girl flowers from rose petals in a basket to a blush pink pomander.”

“I thought she changed from the pomander to the basket.”

“Yes. And from crescent bouquet to cascade and back again.” Emma closed her big brown eyes, circled her neck. “I’ll be glad when this one’s over.”

“She’s the kind who makes Carter’s sister right.”

“Sherry?”

“No, his older sister who says weddings are too stressful, too elaborate, and basically too big a deal. It’s just one day.”

“It’s

the day. Plus, you know, our livelihood.”

“Agreed. But Saturday’s bride is going to be a handful right up to the walk down the aisle. She called me yesterday, and faxed a shot she’d found in a magazine. Which she wants me to duplicate on Saturday. Hey, no problem. Except for the fact her dress is completely different, as is her body type, her headdress, her hair. Oh, and we don’t happen to have the stone archway from an ancient Irish castle for her to pose in. At least not right handy.”

“It’s just nerves. The nerves of a control freak. I need another hit, then I’ve got to get to work.” Emma topped off the mug. “I’ll bring it back.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“I’ll bring the entire collection back,” Emma promised and scooted out.

Alone, Mac turned to open a cupboard. Some sugar and preservatives, she thought, along with her coffee. When she opened the cupboard, she found a shiny red apple in front of the box of Pop-Tarts. The note propped on it read:

Eat me, too!

She snorted out a laugh as she took the apple, and laid the note on the counter. Sweet boy, she thought, taking a bite. Funny boy. What could she do for him short of marrying him at this stage?

She destroyed him with La Perla, she’d cooked an actual meal. She—“The photograph!”

She dashed to her workstation to boot up her computer. She hadn’t forgotten about phase three of the gift. She just hadn’t been able to decide which shot, and how to present it.

“Should be working, should be working,” she mumbled. “But it’ll only take a minute.”

It took her more than forty, but she selected the shot—one of the post-kiss, cheek-to-cheek images. He looked so relaxed and happy, and she . . . right there with him, she mused as she studied the final result. Tweaked, cropped, printed, and framed. To do it right she boxed it, tied it with a red ribbon, and tucked a sprig of silk lily of the valley in the bow.

Delighted, she printed out another of the shots for herself, selected a frame. She put the finished photo in a drawer. She wouldn’t set it out until he had his.

She turned music on, clicked the volume down to background. She worked, happy with the world in general, until the timer she’d set beeped telling her it was time to set up for her studio shoot.

Engagement portrait. She a doctor, he a musician. Mac had some ideas for them, and had asked him to bring his guitar. Medium gray background, bride and groom sitting on the floor and—

She turned, a fat floor pillow in her hands as her door burst open. Her mother all but exploded into the room, wrapped in a new jacket of sheared silver mink.

“Mackensie! Look!” She did a twirl, ending in a hipshot runway pose.

“You can’t be here now,” Mac said flatly. “I have clients coming.”

“I’m a client. I’m here for a consult. I came here first, but we have to get the rest of the team. Oh, Mac!” Linda rushed forward, all scissoring legs, gorgeous shoes, sumptuous fur. “I’m getting married!”

Caught in her mother’s perfumed embrace, Mac just closed her eyes. “Congratulations. Again.”

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Linda eased back, pouted for half a second, then did another laughing spin. “Be happy. Be happy for me. I’m so happy! Look what Ari brought me back from Paris.”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful jacket.”

“It really is.” Tipping her head down, Linda rubbed her chin against the fur. “But that’s not all!” She flung out her hand, wiggled her fingers. On the third rode an enormous square-cut diamond set in platinum.

Hell of a rock, Mac thought. Biggest so far. “It’s impressive.”

“The darling. He was miserable without me. He called me night and day from Paris.” She hugged herself, then did another spin. “Of course, I wouldn’t speak to him for the first three days. It was so mean of him to go without me. Naturally I refused to see him when he first got back.”

“Naturally,” Mac agreed.

“He begged me to come to New York. He sent a limo and a driver for me—and the car was

full of white roses. And a bottle of Dom. But first, he sent dozens of roses, every day. Every day! I had to give in and go to him. Oh, it was so romantic.”

Closing her eyes, Linda crossed her arms over her chest. “Like a dream or a movie. We had dinner alone, at home. He had it catered with all my favorites, and more champagne, candlelight, more roses. He told me he couldn’t live without me, then he gave me this. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Mac watched her mother admire the ring. “I hope you’ll be very happy together. I do. And I’m glad you’re happy now. But I have a shoot.”

“Oh.” With a wave of her hand, Linda dismissed it. “Reschedule, for heaven’s sake. This is major. Your mother’s getting married.”

“For the fourth time, Mom.”

“For the last time. To the right man. And I want you to do the wedding, of course. I need your very best for this. Ari said not to consider the cost. I want something fabulous and romantic and elegant. Sophisticated and lavish. I’m thinking pale pink gown. Valentino, I think, he suits me. Or I might look for something vintage, something old Hollywood. And a wonderful hat rather than a veil.”

Eyes sparkling, she fluffed a hand through her hair. “Some sleek updo, and I’ll have Ari buy me some amazing earrings to set it all off. Pink diamonds, I think. Then masses and masses of white and pink roses. I’ll speak to Emmaline there. We’ll need the invitations to go out right away. I’m sure Parker can take care of it. And the cake. I want massive. The Taj Mahal of wedding cakes, so Laurel will have to outdo herself. And—”

“When?” Mac interrupted.

“When what?”

“When are you planning to do this?”

“Oh. June. I want to be a June bride. I want spring and gardens and—”

“

This June? As in three months from now? We’re booked solid.”

“As if that matters.” With a bright laugh, Linda whisked such mundane matters aside. “I’m your mother. Bump somebody. Now—”

“We don’t bump clients, Mom. We can’t ruin someone else’s wedding because you want a date in June at the last minute.”

Sincere—Mac knew it was sincere—hurt and puzzlement shone on Linda’s face. “Why do you have to be so mean to me? Why do you have to spoil this? Can’t you see I’m happy?”

“Yes, I can. I’m glad for you. I just can’t give you what you want.”

“You just want to punish me. You don’t want me to be happy.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what? What is it? I’m getting married, and my daughter runs a wedding business. Naturally I expect you to handle it.”

“We can’t handle it in June. We’ve been fully booked for June for months now, nearly a year.”

“Did you hear what I said? Money is no object. He’ll pay whatever you ask. All you have to do is change something around.”

“It’s not a matter of money, or nearly as simple as changing something around. It’s a matter of commitment and integrity. We can’t give you what you want when you want it, but the basic reason is because someone else already has it.”

“And they’re more important than me? Than your own mother?”

“Somebody else has already booked the date, ordered their invitations, made their plans. So, yes, in this case they’re more important.”

“We’ll see about that.” Temper sharpened her voice, her eyes, turned them both into hot little knives. “Everyone knows it’s Parker who runs this business. She’s the one who calls the shots. You’ll fall in line when she tells you to.”

Linda stormed to the door, spun back. “You should be ashamed for treating me this way.”

Weary, Mac walked to her workstation, picked up the phone after her mother slammed out. “I’m sorry,” Mac said when Parker answered. “I want to say I’m sorry first. My mother’s on her way over to see you. I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with her.”

“All right.”

“She’s getting married again.”

“Well, I’m shocked!”

Mac laughed even as tears stung her eyes. “Thanks. She wants it here, this June.”

“She can’t have it. We’re booked.”

“I know. I told her, but apparently you’re the boss of me. Of all of us.”

“I’m always saying that. I’ll deal with it. It’s no problem.”

“It’s my problem.”

“Seeing as I’m the boss of you, I’m making it mine. I’ll call you back.”

In her office at the main house, Parker rose, walked to a mirror. She checked her appearance, smoothed a hair back into place, freshened her lipstick—and smiled because it felt like girding for battle.

She looked forward to it.

She took her time walking downstairs, even when she heard the bell ring insistently, repeatedly. She paused to adjust a rose in the vase on the foyer table, then fixing a cool smile on her face, opened the door.

“Hello, Linda. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“She didn’t waste any time.” Linda breezed in, took a quick glance around. “It must be odd opening your home to strangers, for money.”

“Actually, I find it very satisfying.” Parker gestured toward the drawing room. “We can sit in here.”

Shrugging out of her jacket, Linda crossed to a sofa. She tossed the fur negligently over the arm, sat, then leaned back, crossed her legs. “I realize I should have come to you first, but sentiment took me to my daughter. I wanted to share my happy news with her.”

“Of course.” Parker took a chair and, mimicking Linda’s pose, sat and crossed her legs. “You must be very excited. That’s a gorgeous ring.”

“Isn’t it?” Pleasure gushed again as Linda lifted her hand to admire it. “Ari is so thoughtful, and romantic. He’s swept me off my feet.”

“I think Mac mentioned he lives in New York. So you’ll be moving.”

“Very soon. I have a thousand things to see to first. My house, my things.”

“And Eloisa. I’m sure she’s excited at the idea of living in New York on college breaks when she’s not with her father.” Parker tipped her head slightly at Linda’s blank look.

“Oh, Eloisa’s ready to fly the nest. Of course we’ll have a room for her when she visits. At least until she can get her own place. Meanwhile, I have a wedding to plan. I wouldn’t dream of having anyone handle the details but you. Naturally we want the sort of affair that reflects Ari’s position and status. He’s a very important man, and—since we’re talking business—has the means to afford the very best. I’ll want to talk to the other girls about their end of things, but while I’m here I can give you a sense of what I’m looking for.”