Vision in White: Book One in the Bride Quartet - Softcover

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Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than 500 million copies of her books in print.

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PROLOGUE

By the time she was eight, Mackensie Elliot had beenmarried fourteen times. She’d married each of her three bestfriends—as both bride and groom—her best friend’s brother(under his protest), two dogs, three cats, and a rabbit.She’d served at countless other weddings as maid of honor,bridesmaid, groomsman, best man, and officiant.Though the dissolutions were invariably amicable, none ofthe marriages lasted beyond an afternoon. The transitory aspectof marriage came as no surprise to Mac, as her own parentsboasted two each—so far.

Wedding Day wasn’t her favorite game, but she kind of likedbeing the priest or the reverend or the justice of the peace. Or,after attending her father’s second wife’s nephew’s bar mitzvah,the rabbi.

Plus, she enjoyed the cupcakes or fancy cookies and fizzylemonade always served at the reception.

It was Parker’s favorite game, and Wedding Day always took place on the Brown Estate, with its expansive gardens, prettygroves, and silvery pond. In the cold Connecticut winters, theceremony might take place in front of one of the roaring firesinside the big house.

They had simple weddings and elaborate affairs. Royal weddings,star- crossed elopements, circus themes, and pirate ships.All ideas were seriously considered and voted upon, and notheme or costume too outrageous.

Still, with fourteen marriages under her belt, Mac grew a bitweary of Wedding Day.

Until she experienced her seminal moment.

For her eighth birthday Mackensie’s charming and mostlyabsent father sent her a Nikon camera. She’d never expressedany interest in photography, and initially pushed it away withthe other odd gifts he’d given or sent since the divorce. ButMac’s mother told her mother, and Grandma muttered and complainedabout “feckless, useless Geoffrey Elliot” and the inappropriategift of an adult camera for a young girl who’d be betteroff with a Barbie doll.

As she habitually disagreed with her grandmother on principle,Mac’s interest in the camera piqued. To annoy Grandma—who was visiting for the summer instead of being in herretirement community in Scottsdale, where Mac strongly believedshe belonged—Mac hauled the Nikon around with her.She toyed with it, experimented. She took pictures of her room,of her feet, of her friends. Shots that were blurry and dark, orfuzzy and washed out. With her lack of success, and her mother’simpending divorce from her stepfather, Mac’s interest in theNikon began to wane. Even years later she couldn’t say whatprompted her to bring it along to Parker’s that pretty summerafternoon for Wedding Day.

Every detail of the traditional garden wedding had beenplanned. Emmaline as the bride and Laurel as groom would exchangetheir vows beneath the rose arbor. Emma would wear the lace veil and train Parker’s mother had made out of an oldtablecloth, while Harold, Parker’s aging and affable goldenretriever walked her down the garden path to give her away.A selection of Barbies, Kens, and Cabbage Patch Kids, alongwith a variety of stuffed animals lined the path as guests.

“It’s a very private ceremony,” Parker relayed as she fussedwith Emma’s veil. “With a small patio reception to follow.Now, where’s the best man?”

Laurel, her knee recently skinned, shoved through a trio ofhydrangeas. “He ran away, and went up a tree after a squirrel.I can’t get him to come down.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “I’ll get him. You’re not supposed tosee the bride before the wedding. It’s bad luck. Mac, you need tofix Emma’s veil and get her bouquet. Laurel and I’ll get Mr. Fish out of the tree.”“I’d rather go swimming,” Mac said as she gave Emma’s veilan absent tug.

“We can go after I get married.”

“I guess. Aren’t you tired of getting married?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. And it smells so good out here. Everything’sso pretty.”

Mac gave Emma the clutch of dandelions and wild violetsthey were allowed to pick. “You look pretty.”

It was invariably true. Emma’s dark, shiny hair tumbled underthe white lace. Her eyes sparkled a deep, deep brown as shesniff ed the weed bouquet. She was tanned, sort of all golden,Mac thought, and scowled at her own milk white skin.

The curse of a redhead, her mother said, as she got her carrotyhair from her father. At eight, Mac was tall for her age andskinny as a stick, with teeth already trapped in hated braces.She thought that, beside her, Emmaline looked like a gypsyprincess.

Parker and Laurel came back, giggling with the feline bestman clutched in Parker’s arms. “Everybody has to take theirplaces.” Parker poured the cat into Laurel’s arms. Mac, you needto get dressed! Emma—”

“I don’t want to be maid of honor.” Mac looked at the poofyCinderella dress draped over a garden bench. “That thing’sscratchy, and it’s hot. Why can’t Mr. Fish be maid of honor, andI’ll be best man?”

“Because it’s already planned. Everybody’s nervous before awedding.” Parker flipped back her long brown pigtails, thenpicked up the dress to inspect it for tears or stains. Satisfied, shepushed it at Mac. “It’s okay. It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony,with true love and happy ever after.”

“My mother says happy ever after’s a bunch of bull.”

There was a moment of silence after Mac’s statement. Theunspoken word divorce seemed to hang in the air.“I don’t think it has to be.” Her eyes full of sympathy, Parkerreached out, ran her hand along Mac’s bare arm.

“I don’t want to wear the dress. I don’t want to be a bridesmaid.I—”

“Okay. That’s okay. We can have a pretend maid of honor.Maybe you could take pictures.”

Mac looked down at the camera she’d forgotten hung aroundher neck. “They never come out right.”

“Maybe they will this time. It’ll be fun. You can be the official wedding photographer.”

“Take one of me and Mr. Fish,” Laurel insisted, and pushedher face and the cat’s together. “Take one, Mac!”

With little enthusiasm, Mac lifted the camera, pressed theshutter.

“We should’ve thought of this before! You can take formalportraits of the bride and groom, and more pictures during theceremony.” Busy with the new idea, Parker hung the Cinderellacostume on the hydrangea bush. “It’ll be good, it’ll be fun. Youneed to go down the path with the bride and Harold. Try totake some good ones. I’ll wait, then start the music. Let’s go!”

There would be cupcakes and lemonade, Mac reminded herself.And swimming later, and fun. It didn’t matter if the pictureswere stupid, didn’t matter that her grandmother was rightand she was too young for the camera.

It didn’t matter that her mother was getting divorced again,or that her stepfather, who’d been okay, had already moved out.It didn’t matter that happy ever after was bull, because it wasall pretend anyway.

She tried to take pictures of Emma and the obliging Harold,imagined getting the film back and seeing the blurry figures andsmudges of her thumb, like always.

When the music started she felt bad that she hadn’t put onthe scratchy dress and given Emma a maid of honor, just becauseher mother and grandmother had put her in a bad mood. So shecircled around to stand to the side and tried...