Always The Wedding Planner, Never The Bride Part 4

"Are you trapped under something heavy?" he asked, and Emma let out a loud guffaw.

Sherilyn pulled open the solid wood door and gave him a sheepish smile. Somehow, she always seemed to forget how handsome Andy was.

"Hi," he finally said when she didn't step aside.

She tossed herself at him and slipped her arms over his shoulders, her greeting partially lost, m.u.f.fled into the curve of his neck. "Hi, yourself."

Over her shoulder, Andy asked, "Emma?"

Emma giggled. "Yes. It's good to meet you, Andy."

After a minute, he asked, "Sherilyn? Are you going to let me in?"

She timidly withdrew her embrace and nodded. "Sorry. I'm just so happy to see you."

Emma gave him a warm hug. "I've just been helping her decide what would be appropriate to wear when she meets your mother for the first time. I don't want to say she's a little stressed out or anything, but I'd be careful about letting her have any caffeine."

"Em," Sherilyn reprimanded.

"I told her she should wear what she has on. What do you think?"

Andy looked her over. After a moment, he bit his lip.

"What else do you have?"

Sherilyn's stomach dropped back into place, bounced one time with a thud, then fell to her feet. "I thought you liked this dress."

"I do. But . . . lavender might not-"

"Your mother hates lavender!" she surmised. "Why didn't you tell me that? Everything I own is lavender."

"Now that's just not true," he called out from behind her as she rushed into the closet and pulled out a large heap of clothing.

"I'm sorry about before," Andy said as he s.h.i.+fted into park in the driveway in front of his gargantuan family home. "It's just that she had only just told me today that she's not fond of the color lavender. I just thought-"

"Andy, it's fine," she told him, caressing the petal of one of the calla lilies in the bouquet resting on her arm. She adjusted the blue chiffon ribbon wrapped around the stems. "I'm glad you told me first, before I made a lavender first impression."

Glancing down at the navy blue suit with pencil skirt, the ivory blouse with crystal b.u.t.tons, and the antique brooch Emma's father had given her for graduation, she wondered out loud, "You don't think I look like I'm going to church?"

Andy snickered. "You look amazing. You're taking her favorite flowers. You're engaged to her son. It's going to be good. Stop worrying."

Sherilyn held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, admiring the simple princess-cut diamond set into a thin platinum band. Andy had given her the ring she'd always dreamed about when he asked her to be his bride . . . but he'd failed to mention that his lavender-hating mother lived in a house bigger than her college dormitory.

"Ready?" he asked her.

"No," she returned softly, wis.h.i.+ng she had some chocolate in her purse. "But let's go."

Andy pushed open the double mahogany doors and stepped back to let Sherilyn enter first. The octagonal foyer stretched its pale green arms around a large claw-footed table that cloned the shape of the room, and an enormous arrangement of roses and calla lilies greeted them from a crystal vase placed right at the center of the table.

Kind of dwarfs my little offering of flowers, she thought, lowering her eyes to notice the warm amber reflection of light bouncing off the dark green marble floor.

"Welcome to our home, Sherilyn."

Vanessa smiled at her through what looked to be Andy's eyes. While Sherilyn considered whether to hug her or shake her hand, Vanessa patted her arm and moved past to embrace her son.

Despite the fact that it felt a little like presenting a bunch of dandelions to the Queen of Sheba, Sherilyn handed the small bouquet to her as she said, "Thank you so much for having us."

"Well, it's clearly time we met, don't you think so, dear?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. It is."

Vanessa balanced the spray of flowers regally on one arm, and she slipped the other through Andy's. The two of them headed through the foyer and down the hall, and Sherilyn followed into a sprawling living room reminiscent of a movie she'd seen once about a cotton plantation owner.

A fifty-ish woman in a plain black s.h.i.+rtdress entered with a tray of etched gla.s.s goblets and a pitcher, and she beamed as Andy's eyes met hers.

"Mona, you get prettier every time I see you," he told her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Welcome home, Andy."

He took the tray from her and set it down on the oval coffee table in front of the floral sofa. "I want you to meet my fiancee.

Sherilyn Caine, this is Mona Sims. She's worked for my mother since I was a teenager. She's part of the family."

Mona wrapped both arms around her, rocking her slightly. "I'm so happy to meet you," she gushed, and Sherilyn couldn't help but wish Andy's mother had greeted her so enthusiastically. The woman placed both hands on her shoulders and grinned at her as she held her at arm's length. "You're just lovely," she said. "Andy, well done."

"Don't I know it."

Mona caressed Sherilyn's cheek before she announced, "Cook says dinner will be served in about twenty minutes. Just relax and have a chat." She leaned in closer as she added, "Don't let Vanessa scare you, honey."

Sherilyn chuckled.

Too late.

"Thank you, Mona." Vanessa's dismissal could not be mistaken.

Vanessa filled each of the three gla.s.ses with iced tea and handed two of them to Andy. "Tell me about your plans," she said. "I was so happy to hear you were moving back to Atlanta where you belong. But now I want the details. What's this job you've accepted?"

Andy handed Sherilyn one of the gla.s.ses, and the two of them sat down on the sofa. Across from them, Vanessa folded into a large wingback chair that looked rather like a throne.

"You know very well about the job I accepted," Andy replied. "You arranged it."

"I did no such thing. I just suggested they speak with you. I have no knowledge of it beyond that. And besides, I was speaking to Sherilyn."

"O-oh," she stammered slightly, "yes, I've accepted a position at The Tanglewood Inn as their wedding coordinator."

"Georgiann Markinson's family owns the place, is that right?"

"Yes. Her brother Jackson actually owns it, but I've heard that all of his sisters have been very involved in helping him get it off the ground."

"I wasn't able to attend the opening night gala, but my friends who did tell me it was exquisite. Although with Georgiann handling things, I'd expect nothing less."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her and the rest of Jackson's family."

"Andrew tells me you have a friend there who put in a good word."

"Sherilyn's college roommate works there," Andy clarified.

"Yes. Emma Rae Travis."

"Travis?"

"Yes. She bakes the wedding cakes, and she runs a little tea room in the hotel."

Vanessa cleared her throat. "Would she be related to Avery Travis? From Savannah?"

"Right," she exclaimed. "That's Emma's mom."

She looked at Andy for a moment, then back to Sherilyn.

"Do you know her?"

"Avery? Oh, yes. Very well."

The woman sipped from the tall crystal goblet. She rested it on the arm of her chair before replying. "You don't say."

"My mom pa.s.sed away when I was young, and my dad died soon after I went away to school. Emma and I were so close, and Avery and Gavin sort of adopted me."

"I've always wanted to meet Avery Travis."

"I'm sure she'll be at the wedding."

Sherilyn wondered if her imagination created that little flash of displeasure at the mention of the wedding, or whether Vanessa Drummond had developed a tic in reaction to the marriage of her son.

"Speaking of the wedding," Vanessa began, and she paused to sigh. "What are your plans?"

"They have a couple of gorgeous ballrooms at The Tanglewood," she answered. "I thought, once we have a chance to put the guest list on paper, we could decide which one might be appropriate."

"You don't want to get married . . . in a church?" She arched an incredulous eyebrow as she stared Sherilyn down.

"Well, Andy and I have gone to church in Chicago, so we don't really have a church home here in Atlanta. But Emma suggested we talk to Jackson's nephew, Miguel. He's a pastor."

"Before his unfortunate move to Chicago, Andrew went to the same church every Sunday of his life. The same one I still attend."

"The place is a cathedral," Andy remarked.

"It is not a cathedral, Andrew."

"We really want something smaller, a little more intimate." Sherilyn held back her sigh of relief. "The guest list will be small. Maybe fifty people or so.

"Fifty people!" Vanessa shot to her feet like a linen rocket. "Andrew. Our part of the guest list alone will be at least two hundred."

"No, it won't, Mother. We're having a small wedding."

"That just won't do, Andrew."

"Sherilyn has no family at all, and I have only a couple of cousins that I've even spoken to in the last ten years. It's just going to be our immediate family, a couple of people that each of us have kept in touch with here in Atlanta, and the few friends that will fly in from Chicago."

Sherilyn's pulse thumped at the side of her throat, and her palms went immediately clammy in antic.i.p.ation of Vanessa's next move.

"If it's a matter of expense, I would be happy to-"

"Mother, no. We want a small wedding. That's what we've been planning. It's what we prefer."

Mona leaned into the room and clanked a silver spoon against a gla.s.s. "That's it for Round One," she announced. "Let's go into the dining room, and we'll commence with Round Two after dinner."

Vanessa grimaced. "Mona, really."

"This is your wake-up call, Ms. Caine. It's six-thirty, on the dot."

"Thank you."

Sherilyn set the large receiver down into the cradle and dropped her head back to the overstuffed pillow beneath it. The high thread count linens smelled of vanilla, and she inhaled deeply to enjoy the scent. Birds sang a tune outside her window, so happy and perfect she almost thought the music was man-made. She peeled her eyes open and glanced at the gla.s.s door leading out to the balcony; on the other side, the tweeting birds on the upper branches of a flowering tree proved they were the real thing. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and dug her toes into three inches of plush, padded heaven.

She'd planned her early rising around the lure of the deep claw-footed bathtub, and she spilled a dash of lavender salts into it as steaming water poured in. Twenty minutes after she'd pinned up her hair and crawled down into the bath, Sherilyn was still soaking. A knock at her hotel room door startled her, and she wrapped a terrycloth bath sheet around her as she climbed out and hurried toward Emma's familiar voice outside in the hallway.

"Let me in," she sang. "I have coffee."

Sherilyn tugged open the door and grinned. "Sustenance?"

"Blueberry scones and cream, strawberries, and blackberries the size of your fist."

"I'll just be a minute."

By the time she'd dried off and stepped into a robe and slippers, Emma had set up breakfast-for-two on the balcony bistro table.

"Cream and two sugars?" Emma recalled.

"Make it three."

"Same Sherilyn."

"And so much more," she replied as she sat down across from Emma.

"That's the second time you've done that."

"Done what?" she asked, spreading whipped cream over her scone.

"Made a bad joke at your own expense. I don't like it."