Always the Baker, Finally the Bride (20 page)

Emma sighed. “Good advice, Dad. You could be the next Dear Abby.”

“There’s a thought.”

She popped with laughter. When a decision had to be made, a talk with her father almost always made her feel lighter somehow. He hadn’t really given her any sort of answer to speak of, but she still appreciated the sense of well-being that came from a father-daughter summit.

“Do you mind if I hang around until Mother comes back?”

“Not if you don’t mind occupying yourself while I head to the study to make a few phone calls.”

“Not at all.”

Gavin kissed his daughter’s cheek before he left, and Emma took her tea out to the sun porch. She snuggled into the cozy chair in the corner and propped her feet on the ottoman as she tore the bandage from her arm where they’d taken blood that morning. She tossed it into the small wicker trash can as she fondly recalled the Ethan Allen excursion with her mother when she’d bought the furniture for the sunporch.

A chair made from wood and woven sea grass seemed to Emma like an odd choice, considering the regal nature of the rest of her mother’s furniture, but two Catalina chairs upholstered in wide gray and white stripes with matching ottomans, and a simple table between them—a flared white iron base with a distressed wood top in the shape of a full-petaled daisy—set just the right tone for the small, glass-enclosed sitting room. It had become Emma’s favorite in her parents’ Atlanta home.

As she sipped her tea, she’d just begun to consider heading to the kitchen for a quick microwave warm-up when she heard the garage door. She quickly grabbed her cup and headed into the kitchen just as Avery came inside.

“How’s Aunt Sophie?”

Her mother tilted her head and tried for a smile. “We have to wait for the results of the tests they put her through this morning,” she said as Emma helped her out of her coat. “But
she fell sound asleep just moments after I got her settled back in her little apartment.”

“Can I make you some tea?” Emma offered. “You look like you might be exhausted, too.”

“Oh, that would be lovely, Emma Rae. Thank you.”

“Why don’t you go out to the sunporch and relax? I’ll bring it along.”

Avery kissed Emma’s cheek, set her purse on the counter as she passed, and headed off to heed Emma’s suggestion without another word. It took all of five minutes to steep a couple of cups of tea and place a few butter cookies on a china plate, but by the time Emma reached her mother, Avery had curled into one of the Catalina chairs and drifted off to sleep.

Interesting Ways to Incorporate Family Members
into the Wedding Celebration

The Unity Candle, consisting of two taper candles
and a pillar candle, can be a wonderful way to involve
the parents of the bride and groom, or even a
favorite aunt or treasured grandparents.
After the bride and groom light the pillar candle, the family
members are given the taper candles and they light them
from the flame on the pillar to symbolize the new union.

A rose ceremony, in which single roses are given to
the mothers of the bride and groom, is a touching way
of showing them how valuable they both are to this
new relationship forged from them both.
An alternative to this is giving single roses to a group of
family members you wish to incorporate in a meaningful
way. During the ceremony, these people are asked to bring
the roses, one at a time, and place them in a vase between the
bride and groom. This symbolizes the support they offer the
new couple as people they can turn to in the hard
times and a foundation of prayer for the new union.

“A threefold cord is not easily broken” is a verse out of
Scripture that can be the basis for a segment of the ceremony.
Three strands of string or rope attached to a metal ring
are braided by a beloved family member, symbolizing
the union of the bride and groom, with God in the
middle of their marriage.

Jackson checked his watch as he exited the elevator and made his way down the corridor. He might just have time to call and check on Emma before his conference call, if he hurried.

An odd scent accosted his nostrils as he closed in on his office.

“What is that?” he asked right out loud as he paused to sniff the air.

Musky. Sweet . . . heavy!

He’d just turned the corner and stepped into Reception, when he stopped in his tracks. Seated behind Susannah’s desk, an unfamiliar woman smiled at him. Long, straight, bleached hair past her shoulders, and he wondered if her very suntanned face gave a fair representation of middle age or whether all that sun had created the premature cowhide texturing of her skin.

She rose to her feet and extended her hand to him across the desk, the butterfly sleeves of her paisley smock grazing two full rows of framed photographs arranged on the desktop.

“Mary Troutman,” she offered. “I’m the new temp. You must be Jackson Drake.”

He shook her hand weakly as he looked around the office. A long blue scarf draped the window, and two smaller versions capped the beaded shades of the floor lamps in opposite corners. A large stuffed elephant stood guard over the credenza, and a plant with enormous green leaves occupied a woven basket next to the desk where the trash can used to sit.

His nostrils stung again, and Jackson looked around. “Mary? What is that smell?”

Her over-whitened smile widened as she nodded at the brass incense burner tucked into the corner of Susannah’s completely unrecognizable desk. Her sharp-pronged red fingernails bordered on dangerous as she pointed at it.

“Patchouli,” she said, as if imparting some universal wisdom. “I love that you responded to it, Jackson. Patchouli usually appeals to the enlightened. It’s especially effective before meditation to ground and center the mind. Its fragrance heightens strength and passion.”

Jackson massaged his temple for a moment before he told her, “Mary, I don’t think my particular response to it is what you hoped. It actually gives me a bit of a headache. That being said, lit substances like cigarettes and patchouli . . . not allowed here at The Tanglewood. So I’ll need you to put that out.”

“Oh.” Mary’s leathery face fell a little. “All right. The good news, Jackson, is that the scent will linger in the area for up to twenty-four hours!”

“That’s the good news?” he muttered on his way into his office.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and opened up a text box as he lowered himself into the chair.

I think I’m asleep. Please call and wake me. Quickly
.

A moment later, Emma replied.
Day’s going that well, is it?

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you
.

Aunt Sophie fell. Mother took her to the hospital
.

Jackson stared at the message for a moment before picking up the receiver of his desk phone and dialing.

“Tell me what happened,” he said the moment Emma answered.

“The assisted living nurse found her and called my mother. She took her over to the hospital, and they ran a battery of tests. Aunt Sophie seems fine, no broken bones or anything, but Mother says she’s a little disoriented and out of sorts.”

“That’s a shame,” Jackson answered. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m going over to visit with her in a bit to see for myself.”

“Give her my love?”

“Of course,” Emma replied. “So what’s your nightmare?”

“A middle-aged hippie sitting at Susannah’s desk.”

“Oh, no. Another bad one?”

“Emma,” he whispered into the phone, cupping the mouthpiece with his hand, “she’s kind of scary. She’s got scarves hanging everywhere, a stuffed elephant on the table, and she’s burning incense.”

“Incense!”

“Yes,” he vowed. “She must have rented a U-Haul truck to get it all up here! A little over-the-top for a temp job, wouldn’t you say?”

“What kind of incense?”

He thought about it for a few seconds. “It starts with a
p
.”

“Patchouli?”

“It frightens me that you know that.”

Emma’s laughter rang like music in his ears. “Dinner tonight?” she asked him.

“Can’t. I’ve got a late meeting, and Miguel organized a basketball game tonight at the rec center.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Well, call my office because I’m coming back to work tomorrow.”

“Emma, you can take a couple more days, you know. I’ll put in a good word for you with the owner.”

“Oh, don’t bother. That guy is a piece of work,” she teased. “And you won’t want to get too close, anyway. I hear he smells like patchouli.”