Always The Wedding Planner, Never The Bride Part 11

"Beautiful."

"Isn't it? . . . Wasn't it? And it disappeared into the mist! And not one of the stupid dresses I've looked at since has fit like that or makes me look magical!" Sherilyn exclaimed, pus.h.i.+ng the laptop away from her. "And if I'm not going to look magical on my wedding day, then . . . then . . ."

"Then what's the use of getting married at all."

"Exactly!"

Emma popped with laughter at Sherilyn's blind agreement. "You don't mean that," she told her. "You and Andy are right together, Sher."

"I know."

"It's not like before."

"Emma. I told you before. I do not want to bring up the past."

"I'm sorry. I just-"

"Please?"

Her heart began to thud against her chest as Emma looked at her. "Have you talked to Andy about it?"

"No!" she exclaimed, and she heaved in a deep breath. "Stop it, Em."

"Don't you think you should?"

"No. Why? What purpose would it serve?" She clicked her fingernails on the laptop and sighed. "Can we please just drop it?"

"Yes."

"You're making me very uncomfortable and anxious."

"I'm sorry," Emma offered. "Look, we've accomplished a lot tonight. We have the guest list pared down."

"From almost two hundred people to sixty-one," Sherilyn conceded. "That's a minor miracle. Of course, Vanessa is sure to have a stroke."

"And you have the final list safely saved in your BlackBerry."

"Yes."

"And you've chosen the room, the colors, and the invitation. You're even moseying toward a final menu."

"True."

"Now all we need is a date."

Sherilyn fell backward into the sofa and buried her face in one of the pillows.

"Pace yourself," Emma said with a chuckle. "You can choose a date tomorrow. Of course, none of it will matter if you don't pick a dress."

Sherilyn let out a long, labored growl.

"So when is moving day?" Emma asked her as she tossed another pillow at her friend.

"We close on the house next week," she replied, tossing both of the pillows to the sofa beside her. "I'll move in right after. And so will Henry."

"The dog?"

"Ninety pounds of clumsy, hairy, and nauseated."

"Sounds like my Grandpa Dwayne, may he rest in peace." They shared a laugh before Emma added, "You're going through with it then."

"I am."

"You. And a dog."

"Yep."

Emma thought that over for a moment. Shaking her head, she asked, "Remember when I wanted a dog? You threatened to move out of our apartment. You must really love you some Dr. Drummond, girl."

"Yeah," she stated thoughtfully. "I really must."

A strange thread of anxiety surged through Sherilyn, but she didn't have time enough to identify it clearly. A quick tap sounded at Emma's front door, and Jackson pushed it open.

Emma hopped to her feet and into Jackson's arms before Andy even closed the door behind them.

"Did you boys have a good time?" Emma asked, Jackson's arm still around her waist.

"Well, I did," Jackson replied. "But then my team won."

The women groaned sympathetically, and Andy frowned.

"What can I say? My Blackhawks failed me."

"Get used to it," Jackson teased.

"Ready?" he asked Sherilyn, and she nodded, grabbing Andy's extended hand.

He pulled her to her feet, and as she slipped her laptop case over her shoulder, Sherilyn turned toward Emma. "Thanks for tonight."

"Anytime." Emma grinned at Andy as she added, "We made great strides toward your walk down the aisle."

"Oh, good," Andy replied, but Sherilyn didn't think he sounded too convincing.

Once they said their final goodnights and were settled in Andy's car on their way back to The Tanglewood, Sherilyn leaned forward and turned down the volume on the radio.

"Want to hear the magic number?" He gave her one of those noncommittal half-nod, half-shrugs, and she exclaimed, "Sixty-one!"

"Sixty-one what?"

"Guests."

"Guests," he repeated.

"The guest list," she clarified. "For the wedding. Emma and I were able to whittle that thing down from nearly two hundred people to a stunning sixty-one."

Andy rumbled out a sigh. "Mother will have a stroke."

"That's what I told Emma!" she replied with a giggle. "But I feel great about it. And we chose the invitation, the room. All we need now is a date."

Andy nodded as he made a left turn through traffic.

"And a dress, of course. I still can't decide on my dress."

"There's no rush, is there?" he asked. "You'll find something."

Sherilyn gazed at Andy and noticed the hard, square line of his jaw.

Now there's no rush? Wasn't it you who said we were on the fast track?

After a minute or so, she asked him, "Are you all right?"

"Sure. Why?"

"You just seem quiet."

"I'm fine."

"They didn't do it on purpose, you know."

He glanced at her curiously. "Who didn't do what on purpose?"

"The Blackhawks."

He blew out a chuckle. "It's my own fault. I forgot to let them know I was counting on them."

"They'll do better next time. We'll phone ahead, ask them not to embarra.s.s you like that."

Andy reached across the seat and squeezed Sherilyn's hand.

"So do you want to talk about dates?"

Andy didn't reply. As she watched him, she wondered if he'd even heard her.

"Andy?"

He sighed. "Do we have to do this now?"

Biting her lip, she replied, "I guess not. I just thought-"

"It's been a long day, Sherilyn."

There had been a sort of punctuation to the statement. In no uncertain terms, the conversation had come to a close. He'd never been so abrupt with her before, and Sherilyn resisted the urge to press for an explanation, to dig deeper to find out what was really going on. Instead, she leaned forward in resignation and simply turned up the volume on the radio.

Soft strains of James Taylor urged listeners to shower the people they loved with love and show them the way that they feel. Sherilyn caressed Andy's forearm. At the moment, it was all the showering she could manage.

Not that he seemed to notice anyway.

Wedding Themes: The Victorian Wedding LOCATIONS.

A garden location is essential in characterizing the

Victorian era

An outdoor setting with an open pavilion An inn or church depicting the era's ambiance THE BRIDE AND GROOM.

For the bride: conservative styling with long sleeves and a high neckline A wide-brimmed hat, cameo brooch, lace cuffs, gloves, ankle boots, or a lace parasol For the groom: top hat and tails, or possibly a dark blue frock coat Elaborate walking canes, capes, waistcoats FLOWERS.

Nosegay or tussie-mussie bouquet of pastel rosebuds Hyacinth, pansies, tulips, orange blossoms THE RECEPTION.

Fine china, teacups, and lots of candles Small fringed lamps and silk scarves adorning them THE CAKE AND FAVORS.

A Victorian-style fruitcake with white icing in scrolled patterns Favors, such as a penny for prosperity, attached to a long ribbon and baked into the cake

8.

I need something sweet. Preferably chocolate. Whatcha got?"

Fee raised her eyes and stared at Sherilyn over the bridge of her gla.s.ses for a moment before returning her attention to applying a thin line of red piping around the third layer of a ma.s.sive cake.

"On the counter," she stated. "Mocha latte cookies."

Sherilyn hurried toward them. Dozens of round, light brown cookies, one side of each dipped in a thick layer of s.h.i.+ny, dark chocolate.

"Are you kidding me with these?" she asked before plucking one of the cooling cookies from the runner of wax paper. Holding it up to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She bit off a piece of the cookie, holding it on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. "What's in them?"