Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet, Band 2) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

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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CHAPTER ONE

Since details crowded her mind, many of them blurry, Emma checked her appointment book over her first cup of coffee. The back- to- back consults gave her nearly as much of aboost as the strong, sweet coffee. Basking in it, she leaned backin the chair in her cozy office to read over the side notes she’dadded to each client.

In her experience, the personality of the couple— or often,more accurately, the bride— helped her determine the tone ofthe consult, the direction they’d pursue. To Emma’s way ofthinking, flowers were the heart of a wedding. Whether theywere elegant or fun, elaborate or simple, the flowers were theromance.

It was her job to give the client all the heart and romancethey desired.

She sighed, stretched, then smiled at the vase of petite roseson her desk. Spring, she thought, was the best. The weddingseason kicked into high gear— which meant busy days and longnights designing, arranging, creating not only for this spring’sweddings, but also next.

She loved the continuity as much as the work itself.

That’s what Vows had given her and her three best friends.Continuity, rewarding work, and that sense of personal accomplishment.And she got to play with flowers, live with flowers,practically swim in flowers every day.

Thoughtfully, she examined her hands, and the little nicksand tiny cuts. Some days she thought of them as battle scars andothers as medals of honor. This morning she just wished she’dremembered to fit in a manicure.

She glanced at the time, calculated. Boosted again, she sprangup. Detouring into her bedroom, she grabbed a scarlet hoodie tozip over her pjs. There was time to walk to the main house beforeshe dressed and prepared for the day. At the main houseMrs. Grady would have breakfast, so Emma wouldn’t have toforage or cook for herself.

Her life, she thought as she jogged downstairs, brimmed withlovely perks.

She passed through the living room she used as a receptionand consult area, and took a quick scan around as she headed forthe door. She’d freshen up the flowers on display before the firstmeeting, but oh, hadn’t those stargazer lilies opened beautifully?

She stepped out of what had been a guest house on the BrownEstate and was now her home, and the base for Centerpiece— herpart of Vows.

She took a deep breath of spring air. And shivered.

Damn it, why couldn’t it be warmer? It was April, for God’ssake. It was daffodil time. Look how cheerful the pansies she’dpotted up looked. She refused to let a chilly morning— andokay, it was starting to drizzle on top of it— spoil her mood.

She hunched inside the hoodie, stuck the hand not holdingher coffee mug in her pocket, and began to walk to the mainhouse.

Things were coming back to life all around her, she remindedherself. If you looked closely enough you could see thepromise of green on the trees, the hint of what would be delicateblooms of dogwood and cherry blossoms. Those daffodilswanted to pop, and the crocuses already had. Maybe there’d beanother spring snow, but the worst was over.

Soon it would be time to dig in the dirt, to bring some of herbeauties out of the green house and put them on display. She addedthe bouquets, the swags and garlands, but nothing beat MotherNature for providing the most poignant landscape for a wedding.

And nothing, in her opinion, beat the Brown Estate for showingit off.

The gardens, showpieces even now, would soon explode withcolor, bloom, scent, inviting people to stroll along the curvingpaths, or sit on a bench, relax in sun or shade. Parker put her incharge— as much as Parker could put anyone else in charge— ofoverseeing them, so every year she got to play, planting somethingnew, or supervising the landscape team.

The terraces and patios created lovely outdoor living spaces,perfect for weddings and events. Poolside receptions, terracereceptions, ceremonies under the rose arbor or the pergola, orperhaps down by the pond under a willow.

We’ve got it all, she thought.

The house itself? Could anything be more graceful, morebeautiful? The wonderful soft blue, those warm touches of yellowand cream. All the varied rooflines, the arching windows,the lacy balconies added up to elegant charm. And really, theentrance portico was made for crowding with lush greenery orelaborate colors and textures.

As a child she’d thought of it as a fairyland, complete withcastle.

Now it was home.

She veered toward the pool house, where her partner Maclived and kept her photography studio. Even as she aimed for it,the door opened. Emma beamed a smile, shot out a wave to thelanky man with shaggy hair and a tweed jacket who came out.

“ ’Morning, Carter!”

“Hi, Emma.”

Carter’s family and hers had been friends almost as long asshe could remember. Now, Carter Maguire, former Yale profand current professor of En glish lit at their high school almamater, was engaged to one of her best friends in the world.

Life wasn’t just good, Emma thought. It was a freaking bedof roses.

Riding on that, she all but danced to Carter, tugged himdown by his lapel as she angled up on her toes and kissed himnoisily.

“Wow,” he said, and blushed a little.

“Hey.” Mackensie, her eyes sleepy, her cap of red hair brightin the gloom, leaned on the doorjamb. “Are you trying to maketime with my guy?”

“If only. I’d steal him away but you’ve dazzled and vampedhim.”

“Damn right.”

“Well.” Carter offered them both a flustered smile. “This is areally nice start to my day. The staffmeeting I’m headed to won’tbe half as enjoyable.”

“Call in sick.” Mac all but purred it. “I’ll give you somethingenjoyable.”

“Hah. Well. Anyway. Bye.”

Emma grinned at his back as he hurried off to his car. “God,he is so cute.”

“He really is.”

“And look at you, Happy Girl.”

“Happy Engaged Girl. Want to see my ring again?”

“Oooh,” Emma said obligingly when Mac wiggled her fingers.

“Ahhh.”

“Are you going for breakfast?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Wait.” Mac leaned in, grabbed a jacket, then pulled the doorclosed behind her. “I didn’t have anything but coffee yet, so . . .”As they fell into step together, Mac frowned. “That’s my mug.”

“Do you want it back now?”

“I know why I’m cheerful this crappy morning, and it’s thesame reason I haven’t had time for breakfast. It’s called Let’sShare the Shower.”

“Happy Girl is also Bragging Bitch.”

“And proud of it. Why are you so cheerful? Got a man inyour house?”

“Sadly no. But I have five consults booked today. Which is agreat start to the week, and comes on the tail of the lovely endto last week with yesterday’s tea party wedding. It was reallysweet, wasn’t it?”

“Our sexagenarian couple exchanging vows and celebratingsurrounded by his kids, her kids, grandchildren. Not just sweet,but also reassuring. Second time around for both of them, andthere they are, ready to do it again, willing to share and blend. Igot some really great shots. Anyway, I think those crazy kids aregoing to make it.”

“Speaking of crazy kids, we really have to talk about yourflowers. December may be far away— she says shivering— but itcomes fast, as you well know.”

“I haven’t even decided on...