Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride (5 page)

W
hat about this one?"

Sherilyn filled the doorway between the bathroom and her hotel room like a crooked human Y, both arms above her head, clutching the jamb, and curving her body to show off the pretty lavender dress with the cap sleeves and lace yoke that she'd bought the day before leaving Chicago.

"It's really cute," Emma told her. "But so were the other five."

Sherilyn deflated and padded across the carpet in bare feet. She fell to the bed beside Emma with a plop, tipping sideways into the large pile of discarded outfits.

"Sher, you look beautiful in every one of them. Why are you so nervous about meeting Andy's mom?"

"Andy says she's . . .
a force."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, exactly. But he's going to be here any minute to pick me up and take me to her house for dinner, and the thought of it is
forcing
my stomach up into my throat."

"Andy's wonderful, right?" Emma asked as she tugged on Sherilyn's arm to pull her upright.

"Oh, yeah."

"So, odds are he'll have a wonderful mom too."

"Yes."

"Okay then."

"Because
you
are so much like
your
mother."

Emma's expression crumpled. "Well, you can't go by Avery. She's one-of-a-kind."

"Every child thinks that about their mother," she pointed out. "If I had a mother, I'm sure I'd think she was completely unique too."

Emma wrapped her arm around Sherilyn's neck. It wasn't clear whether it was a hug or preparation for strangling. "Now choose one of these outfits and put it on."

"Oh!" Sherilyn exclaimed as her train of thought derailed. "My wedding dress! It's supposed to be delivered today. Can you check with the front desk about it later?"

"You found a dress?"

"The perfect dress!" she beamed. "Just the day before I left. It fits like it was made for me. So I didn't want to take any chances with it on the trip out here. I paid a small fortune for it to be packaged and shipped to me."

"I'll check downstairs as soon as I leave this room."

"Thank you so much!" At just that moment, a rap at the door propelled Sherilyn to her feet. "It's him."

"I'm guessing."

"It's Andy."

"Odds are."

Sherilyn flew into action, scooping up the pile of discarded clothes from the bed, wobbling toward the closet, and tossing them inside. She slammed shut the door and used the fulllength mirror to fix her hair.

"I look like a goon."

"You look beautiful," Emma corrected.

"Sherilyn?" Their eyes locked together as Andy called out to her from the other side of the door. "What are you doing?"

"I . . . I . . . I'll be right there."

"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, muffled 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 shifted 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 buttons, 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, wishing 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 shirtdress entered with a tray of etched glass 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 fiancée.

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 glasses 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 glasses, 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 passed 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 anticipation 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 glass. "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."