Always the Baker, Finally the Bride (9 page)

Pleated sweetheart bodice
.

Hand-embroidered and beaded cap sleeves
.

Side-draped cascades of chiffon
.

A two-inch belt of rhinestones circling a natural waist
.

Twenty rhinestone buttons down the back
.

A-line silhouette with draped chapel-length train
.

Those were the notes Audrey had scribbled while they conferenced about Emma’s gown. A week later, she’d included them in the e-mail to Emma with a jpg of the sketch attached. She had meticulously included every idea Emma had somehow managed to express, times ten. And now—seeing the end result before her—Emma could hardly breathe.

“Oh my!”

“Yes?” Audrey asked eagerly.

“Oh . . . Audrey . . .”

“I think that’s a yes,” Kat added. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, come on. Don’t keep us in suspense,” Fee declared.

“It’s beyond—” That was all she could manage.

Emma sank to the edge of the king-sized bed, both hands over her heart, trying to breathe as she gazed at the dress form angled toward her. Every detail of the gown came together to
stop her heart, every rhinestone on the belt perfectly placed, every pearl and bead on the delicate cap sleeves shimmering. Even the way the hem sat arranged on the floor brought a mist of emotion to her eyes and a lump to her throat that kept her from speaking.

“It’s a gorgeous dress,” Kat said with a sigh as she dropped to the bed beside Emma.

“Exquisite,” Emma managed.

The four of them lined up along the foot of the bed, gazing at the gown as if it had descended from a cloud, affecting the mood of the room full of women the way only a wedding dress could.

A sudden bang-bang-bang against the door drew Kat to her feet, and she hurried to answer Sherilyn’s frantic calls from the corridor.

“Let me in! Don’t you dare leave me out of this!”

Emma couldn’t manage to look away from the gown as Sherilyn blew into the room. But when Sherilyn gasped and the others fell eerily silent, she looked up to find her friend standing in the middle of the room, her baby strapped across her chest, bulging diaper bag flung over her shoulder, and her glassy eyes trained on the dress before them.

“Is that it?” she slowly asked. Fee’s dry glance at her elicited a further reply: “Oh. Well, of course it is. It’s . . . it’s . . . exquisite!”

“Isn’t it?” Emma said.

Sherilyn sat down next to Emma on the bed, cradling the tiny pink bundle in her arms.

“Hi, Isabel,” Emma cooed at the baby. “Did you see my wedding dress? Isn’t it beautiful?” Looking up at Sherilyn, she asked, “Can I hold her?”

Sherilyn nodded absentmindedly, pulling a bottle of antiseptic gel from the bag and handing it to Emma without glancing away from the gown.

Emma squirted out a dollop of gel and rubbed her hands together as Sherilyn exclaimed, “Oooh!” She plucked something else from the front flap of the diaper bag and waved it at Emma.

“The invitations arrived!”

“They did, and I think they’re really lovely, Em.”

Emma wiped her hands again before she gingerly accepted the invitation. Tracing the glossy, raised letters of Jackson’s name with her index finger, she grinned. “They’re perfect.”

“Let’s see,” Fee said, and she pulled the card from Emma’s hand. “Nice.”

“And how’s the wedding cake project coming along?” Sherilyn asked her.

Emma shrugged. “I got another one down on paper last night. But . . . I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe it could be the one.”

“That’s what she said about the last one,” Fee commented, but Emma’s attention was fixed on the gown again.

Reaching across Sherilyn, she grabbed Audrey’s hand and gave it a playful shake. “And you! You’re a genius,” she said, and Audrey smiled in reply. “No, I mean it. You’re an absolute genius. I may be a little lost in getting to my wedding cake, but this dress is a touchdown. It’s what I pictured in my head, and so much more. The rhinestone buttons . . . the detailing on the sleeves . . . It’s genius, Audrey. How can I ever thank you?”

“You can marry that fabulous man of yours and live a happy life. But before you do that, why don’t we do a fitting?”

“Oh!” Emma squealed, and Sherilyn shushed her, pointing down at Isabel.

“I forgot I get to try it on,” Emma whispered, tugging off her blouse before she even hit her feet. “I can’t wait to try it on!”

From the time that he’d opened the place, Jackson had taken to enjoying his mid-morning coffee at this one particular table in the restaurant whenever he could manage it. He’d actually preferred it there before the hotel had officially opened because the tables around him sat unoccupied back then, but he wouldn’t trade the steady stream of patrons for all of the peaceful coffee experiences on earth. The Tanglewood had evolved from a questionable venture in those early days into the solid success that it was now, all thanks to those customers who churned through the doors day after day.

Behind him, a family of five chatted softly over their breakfasts, and a young businessman sipped coffee in the corner. Chiffon-filtered streams of sunlight pointed to the floor beside the man as he exchanged pleasantries with his waitress.

Jackson poured the last drops from the pot into his cup as rubber-soled shoes padded their way toward him, and he looked up as they came to a muffled halt next to his table. The warm and familiar smile of Emma’s Aunt Sophie greeted him, and he found himself remembering that first morning when he’d looked up at her from that very spot in the restaurant to find that she wore a mint-green evening gown, long white gloves and—of all things!—a tiara.

“What is your name?” she’d asked him, and less than three minutes later, Jackson had fallen a little bit in love as she quoted Scripture to him from the Book of Isaiah, promising him that whatever situation had him so engrossed in his own thoughts was sure to look up very soon.

“Good morning, Jackson,” she said to him now, as she smoothed back her halo of beautiful silver hair with both hands. “Am I interrupting you?”

“I think that’s what you asked me the very first time you walked through those doors, Sophie. You asked if you were interrupting me.”

“Did I?”

“And you were dressed in green, like you were going to a ball at the palace.”

Sophie smiled. “I must have looked happy. Was I happy, Jackson?”

“You always seem happy to me,” he remarked. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

He took a final draw from his cup and set it down on the table.

“How about you?” she asked, and Jackson leaned back against the chair. “Are you happy? Because you look unusually burdened this morning, dear.”

“I’m just in the process of making a business decision,” he explained with a smile.

“Then I won’t keep you from it,” she replied, turning on her heel and heading toward the door.

“Wait, Sophie. Are you here alone?”

“I came with Avery. And she’s . . . she’s . . .”

Jackson watched her closely for a moment, noticing the spark of confusion that flashed in her bluish eyes as they darted about the restaurant.

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid I’ve . . . I don’t know . . .”

“I was just headed into the kitchen to say hello to Emma,” he said, standing up and offering his arm. “Would you like to come along?”

“Well . . .”

“I know she’d love to see you. Come for a walk with me.”

Sophie grabbed hold of his arm tightly, and he covered her trembling hand with his as they strolled out of the restaurant.

“Kathy, if Emma’s mother comes in looking for this beautiful young lady,” he told the hostess at the door, “would you direct her to the kitchen? I’m just borrowing Miss Sophie for a few minutes.”

“Certainly, Mr. Drake.”

Sophie sighed, leaning into Jackson as they headed for Emma’s kitchen. She’d become so much stronger and more confident over the last year, and her periods of lucidity were much more frequent now that the family had built such a familiar and established environment for her. But every now and then, he saw that fearful glimmer of someone momentarily lost, and it broke Jackson’s heart every time.

“Aunt Soph!” Emma cried as they pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “Your ears must have been twitching. I was just thinking about you!”

“Were you, dear?”

Emma shot Jackson a grateful glance as she wrapped her arms around her aunt’s shoulders. “I need to tell you all about the wedding plans. Are you up for a little chat?”

“Of course I am, Emma Rae. Of course I am.”

Avery scurried through the kitchen door and halted next to Jackson as Emma and Sophie wandered away toward the office. Her hand to her heart, Avery sighed, and Jackson squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank the Lord,” she whispered. “Some days, Jackson, keeping an eye on my sister is like herding kittens. I don’t know how those people at the center keep up with her!”

“They’re trained professionals,” he teased, and Avery chuckled.

“How are the wedding plans coming along?” she asked, threading her arm through his as they left the kitchen.

“You’re asking the wrong guy. As I understand it, I’m just supposed to show up in a tuxedo at the appointed time.”

“That sounds like Sherilyn.”

Jackson laughed. “A direct quote. And now that she’s had the baby and she has Kat here filling in, it’s double duty with the organizational directives. There’s nothing going to slip through the cracks, believe me.”

“Oh, I’ve known Sherilyn for many years,” Avery said with a nod. “I believe you.”

As they reached the restaurant, Avery tapped Jackson’s arm before releasing it. “I have an early luncheon here at Morelli’s.”

“With Gavin?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear boy. The day your future father-in-law schedules an early anything is the day Biloxi freezes over.”

A pop of laughter burst out of Jackson, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m meeting your sister for an early lunch.”

A twinge of curiosity pinched him. “Which one?”

“Georgiann,” she replied with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”

“I wish I could, but I’m due back upstairs for a conference call.”

“A pity,” she remarked before pecking his cheek. “You have a lovely phone call, then. We’ll just chirp about you behind your back.”

“Little
bruthah
, I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

“Hi, George.” He greeted her with an embrace as they passed.

“Wait, you can’t join us?” she asked him. “We’re having—”

“Sorry, I can’t. Conference call. You two enjoy yourselves.”

Georgiann tossed her hands with dramatic flair, and Jackson grinned at her as he crossed the lobby.

“I swanee,” she grumbled as he went. “That boy!”

Georgia 400 was uncharacteristically free of traffic, and Emma had an easy fifteen-minute drive from the hotel back to her apartment. She rounded the building and pulled into the parking space painted with a faded orange #
6
. Propping open the door of her idling candy-apple-red Mini Cooper, she tilted her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, humming back-up
do-wops
for Aretha Franklin.

Traffic droned in the distance while the murmur of the Egglestons’ conversation wafted through their open door, reminding Emma of another night like this one a long time ago. She’d come home to find Aunt Sophie seated on the back step in her bathrobe, and Jackson had shocked her when he unexpectedly leaned in over the top of Emma’s open car door.