Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride (8 page)

Sherilyn propped her elbows on the stainless steel worktable and giggled as Fee twirled the cookie gun in her hand like some sort of gothic version of Wyatt Earp. She held it up and blew on it, as if blowing the smoke from the barrel of a gun, before pressing it down to a cookie sheet and pulling the trigger again and again, leaving behind three rows of perfect little blue and white flowers.

"Those are beautiful!" Sherilyn exclaimed. "Are they for a wedding?"

"Nah. We've got a tea room bridal shower this afternoon."

"That's why you're here on Saturday."

"Emma will be in later too. We have a wedding tonight." Fee pushed the cookie sheet aside and set up a clean one. Pressing out more of the blue and white flowers, she said, "You should stick around. Madeline will be here."

"Do you know what time? I'd love to meet her before Monday."

"She might be in her office now. Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, Emma showed me. I think I'll take a walk upstairs and see if I can find her."

Fee nodded, twirled the cookie gun with a very straight face, blew on the end of it again, and returned to her task.

Sherilyn took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Through the glass side of the car, she watched the distance grow between herself and the courtyard until the elevator came to a stop. Around the corner, just beyond Jackson's office, she noticed Madeline's office alive with overhead light and activity.

"It's
mah
pleasure, Clinton. I look forward to seeing you in a little while then." The slow southern drawl reminded Sherilyn of Emma's mother, Avery. "May I help you?"

"Yes. Are you Madeline Winston?"

"I am."

Madeline tucked away a stray wisp of hair and smoothed the front of her brown crepe trousers. She wore an eye-catching brooch at the collar of her light blue blouse, and she adjusted it before extending her hand toward Sherilyn. "And you are?"

"I'm Sherilyn Caine. Your brother hired me to help you transition the wedding planning for the hotel."

"Yes, of
co-ourse,"
she replied with a broad smile. "It's such a pleasure to meet you,
sugah."

Sherilyn had rarely met anyone who seemed so invested in a handshake. She wondered if it was Madeline Winston, or just her southern heritage, that inspired such commitment.

"You start on Monday. Have you seen your future office
yay-et?"

"I have. Emma gave me a little tour when I first arrived. I just thought I'd take the opportunity to introduce myself and see if there's anything I can do to help you. Fee told me you have a wedding tonight."

"We do. It's a special one too. The bride and groom are in their
nineties!"

"Really!"

"As you can imagine, most of their friends have gone to be with the Lord already, so it's just a very small affair. Not

too much to do, really. But you're welcome to come, if you'd like to."

"Thank you. I have plans with my fiancé, but if we can swing by I'd really like that."

"We're in the small Desiree ballroom for the ceremony," she explained. "And just cake and coffee afterward in the courtyard. I was just arranging for some portable heaters, just in case they need them. Lately, we're starting to feel a little nip in the air at night."

"That's a great idea."

Madeline picked up an indigo leather journal from the desktop, closed by a pale blue ribbon wrapped around a copper button.

"I made this for you," she said timidly as she handed the journal to Sherilyn. "It's a record of the first twenty-five weddings held here at the inn. It's all entered here as a keepsake, with the dates and the names of the bride and groom, the wedding themes and the menus. Just a little something to welcome you to The Tanglewood."

Emotion formed a warm mist over her eyes, and Sherilyn touched the woman's arm. "What a lovely thing to do."

"This place is God-inspired," she replied. "And we've just been waiting for you to come and take your rightful place."

The burning tears spilled down Sherilyn's face in an unexpected cascade, and she hurriedly wiped them away. "I don't know what to say. Thank you so much."

Madeline tugged Sherilyn toward an embrace. Afterward, she produced a tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to her. "I'm so pleased to meet you."

"Ditto," she managed while wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?"

They both turned toward the door. A woman with light brown hair and kind hazel eyes and wearing blue jeans and a tailored pinstriped shirt appeared concerned.

"Come in, come in," Madeline said, sniffing. "You have to meet Sherilyn Caine. Little
bruthah
hired her to take over the
weddins.
Sherilyn, this is my sister Norma Jean Blanchette."

"Sherilyn, this is such a pleasure," Norma said, shaking her hand.

"You'll be working closely with Norma," Madeline explained. "She coordinates the non-bridal events. Anniversaries, birthdays, charity
fundraisahs."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Sherilyn said.

"Ooh, child, have we been waiting for you!" Norma teased.

Sherilyn smiled and wadded up the tissue in her fist. Something told her she'd been waiting for them a while too.

September 2010

Callie Beckinsale—Danny Mahoney

Outdoor wedding at the groom's alma mater, George Washington High School

Baseball-inspired reception—Met at a baseball game— Love the Atlanta Braves

Menu:

• Barbecued beef and cole slaw

Cake:

• Sculpted baseball glove holding the Pitcher Bride and the Catcher Groom

W
hen Andy suggested making an offer on the Sandpoint Drive house, Sherilyn had to remind him that they'd never made it upstairs.

"What if there's a huge gaping hole in the roof, or a few missing floorboards up there? Don't you think we ought to know about it?"

It was so unlike Andy to make such a spontaneous decision, especially without all of the facts! And so, for the sake of being fully informed, they'd called Lola and made a Sunday afternoon appointment to make it to the second floor of the house.

Lola hadn't arrived yet, so the two of them took a walk around to the backyard. Sliding glass doors led to a large wooden deck, and they sat down at the top of the three stairs, holding hands and gazing out over the pretty green lawn.

"What's that?" Sherilyn asked, pointing out a mop of white movement between the evergreens at the back of the property.

"I don't know. Stay here."

She pulled her feet up to the second stair and wrapped her arms around her knees as Andy took off to check it out.

"Be careful, Andy."

He leaned into the trees, and she heard his voice raise a couple of octaves as he spoke to whatever creature hid inside the wooded area beyond them.

"Andy! What is it?" she asked between clenched teeth. He grinned at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to the enormous shrub of dirty white fur that emerged.

Sherilyn hopped to her feet. "What is that?"

"It's a dog," he said with a laugh. "A really . . .
really!
. . . dirty dog."

Andy coaxed the thing out into the open, picking sticks and leaves from its tangled fur. "You don't have to hide," he told the thing. "We're friendly. Come on over here."

The dog stepped out from behind the trees, and Sherilyn could see that it was enormous.

"I think he's a sheepdog," Andy said as he headed toward her, patting out an invitation on his leg for the dog to follow him. "You know, one of those Old English dogs?"

"Like the one in
The Little Mermaid."

"Yeah, I guess," he replied. "Only filthy."

Andy sat down on the top stair while Sherilyn stood behind him on the deck. "Come here, boy."

The thing walked right up to him and stood with his nose pressed into Andy's leg. At least Sherilyn thought it was his nose. There were so many dark spots poking out of its fur that she couldn't really be sure.

"What is that smell?" she asked, taking two steps backward.

"Oh, no! Is that him?"

"I think it's him."

"Wow!" Her eyes began to water.

"How long have you been out there on your own, boy?"

Andy asked, pushing the clumps of matted fur back from

the dog's eyes. "Sherilyn, look at this. He has two different colored eyes."

One of the dog's eyes was light crystal blue, and the other a dark brown.

"That's creepy."

"I think it's cool."

"Andy, where's his tail?"

"Sheepdogs don't have tails. They're docked when they're puppies."

"Docked!" she exclaimed. "You mean they cut their tails off? That's horrible!"

"It's like a Doberman. Their tails are docked and their ears cropped within the first month or two of life. The same with sheepdogs and their tails."

"How do you know when he's happy if he can't wag his tail?"

Andy turned and looked at her curiously for a moment before bursting with laughter that made the dog flinch.

"Sorry, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." The animal gave them a timid once-over before stepping forward again.

"He smells really bad," Sherilyn remarked, and the dog looked up at her and cocked his head. "Sorry, but you do."

Running his hand around the dog's neck, Andy observed, "He has no collar or identification. And he looks like he's been outside a long time."

"He smells that way too," she added, her hand over her nose and mouth.

"He can't help it," Andy told her. "He's probably lost. And hungry. I'll bet you are, aren't you, boy?"

In the same way that Andy had described his future playing before him the last time they'd visited this house, Sherilyn saw her own version this time around. Except instead of children,

mortgages, and tuition bills, she saw a dog dripping with mud hopping onto the sofa, fleas dancing in the carpet like Mexican jumping beans, and an enormous fur wall between them.

"Andy," she broached. "I'm not really . . . you know . . . a dog person."

"How can you not be a dog person?" he replied on a chuckle, and he smoothed back the fur from the dog's strange eyes. "Look at this guy. Give him a bath, a good meal, and a few squeaky toys to keep him occupied, and what's not to love?"

Uh-oh.

Sherilyn said a silent prayer of thanks when Lola arrived. They left the dog in the backyard and toured the upstairs level of the house, which turned out to be as beautiful as the lower level, and—
bonus!—
the place came with a fully finished basement as well. The master bathroom had a small skylight and a stained glass arch behind the luxurious garden tub.

"So what do you think?" Lola asked them when they returned to the kitchen for one last look around.

"It's exquisite," Sherilyn gushed. "I love the place."

"How much stretch do you think the sellers have on their asking price?" Andy inquired.

"The house has been on the market for more than ninety days. In this economic climate, I think they'll be excited to have an offer."

As Andy discussed the details of the offer with Lola, Sherilyn wandered into the empty family room. The visual came readily: Andy's brown micro suede sectional, and her two easy chairs upholstered in deep navy blue. They would look beautiful centered around the focal point of that large stone fireplace on the far wall.

Just as she turned back in hopes of painting the picture for Andy, Sherilyn spotted the large ball of fur at the sliding glass door, and she jumped.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked, stalking toward her from the kitchen.

She nodded toward the door, and Lola gasped. "What in the world is that?"

"It's a dog," Sherilyn replied. "He was hiding in the trees in the backyard."

"Oh, he should have stayed there," she said, wrinkling up her nose and shaking her head.

Sherilyn chuckled, but Andy hurried toward the door and slid it open. "Don't say that," he said, rubbing the dog's neck.

"He's lost."

Lola raised an eyebrow at Sherilyn and clicked her tongue.

"Not anymore. Sorry, sweetie."

The drive back to Vanessa Drummond's house confirmed Lola's suspicion. Sherilyn drove while Andy sat in the back seat, the large, once-white beast draped over his lap.

It's okay,
she told herself.
It's only temporary.

Surely, she could count on Andy's mother to put the kibosh on things the instant her son came walking into her pristine home with Big Foot in tow.

"What is that noise he's making, Andy?"

"Ah, man! It's in my shoe."

"What's in your shoe? . . . Oh, and what is
that smell?"

"He's apparently not used to riding in a car."

This was Andy's explanation for the dog vomit that ran down his pant leg and into his shoe.

"Thanks so much for coming, everyone! Just take a seat around the table and Fee will pour you some tea."

Sherilyn sat down at the foot of the table on one of the counter-height stools around the stainless steel worktable in Emma's kitchen, Madeline to her left and Pearl to her right.

"You met Norma Jean," Madeline noted, and Norma smiled at her. "Have you met Georgiann?"

"I have not."

The older of the two women on the other side of Madeline offered her hand. "This is Georgiann Markinson. Georgiann, meet Sherilyn Caine."

"I'm so happy to meet you," Georgiann told her. "Emma has been singing your praises for weeks on end."

As Emma pulled a stool over to the far end of the table and angled it next to Fee, Norma whispered, "I can't wait to work with you, Sherilyn. Welcome."

"Thank you," she mouthed in reply.

"So Pearl arranged for us to meet a friend of hers last week," Emma announced, and the group of women shifted to give her their full attention. "This woman was amazing, wasn't she, Fee?" She paused long enough for Fee to nod before continuing. "Cynthia Starkey. She's been studying and creating recipes for English tea for more than thirty years. Well, she came and spent two days with us and shared her expertise so that we can improve upon the tea room menu."

"Before I met Cyn," Fee told them, "I was like, dude, why fix what ain't broken, right? But an hour with her, and Emma had me right on board."

"I don't know if everyone here had the chance to see the write-up a couple of weeks ago in the Sunday
Journal?"

"I meant to congratulate you both," Susannah Littlefield said from her seat beside Pearl. "Jackson showed it to me that Monday morning."

"They wrote that, in the short time we've been here, we've emerged as Atlanta's Best in tea rooms!" Emma said straight to Sherilyn.

"That's wonderful!"

"So anyway, Fee and I met with Cynthia, and I think we've developed some pretty great additions to the menu. We didn't go to all the trouble of setting it up in the courtyard with full china and linens—"

"What, we're not worth the trouble?" Norma teased.

"We've already mastered presentation," Fee told them. "We want to see if you think we've mastered your taste buds."

Norma grinned. "Fair enough."

"On the platters by Sherilyn and Madeline, you'll find our savories," Emma told them as Fee passed out small plates and sterling silver forks. "We'd like to choose something from these as an addition to the current menu. There are three new possibilities with tea sandwiches; goat cheese and watercress, smoked salmon and cranberry jelly on pumpernickel, and chicken curry. If you could try one of each, we'd like you to help us decide which one to add."

Sherilyn had never been a big fan of goat cheese, but she tried one of them anyway. The heavy base of curry on the chicken might overpower the other flavors on the menu. But the smoked salmon—

"Oh!" Madeline exclaimed. "The salmon. Absolutely the salmon!"

Nods all around confirmed the choice.

"The curry is a little powerful," Susannah chimed in.

"But the salmon!" Georgiann declared, and Pearl gave an emphatic nod.

"Yep," said Sherilyn. "The salmon. Without a doubt. The cranberries are a great surprise."

"Excellent! Now the next platter has tidbits that are also savory, but a little different from your typical tea sandwich. We have a new take on our Scotch eggs, and a little sausage, spinach and gorgonzola popover, as well as this one; apricot, ham and cream cheese on a rye crisp."

Sherilyn reached for the Scotch egg immediately. She'd tasted Emma's current recipe just that week, and she was anxious to weigh the differences. Rosemary popped out at her right away, and she liked it, but not as well as the original recipe.

"Try this," Madeline urged, and she dropped a miniature popover on Sherilyn's plate. "It's luscious." Sherilyn bit off half of the appetizer. The moment the warm gorgonzola hit her tongue, she raised the second half into the air and waved it at Emma.

"That's one vote for the spinach and gorgonzola," Fee pointed out and, with that, every hand in the room raised in confirmation.

"All-righty then," Fee joked. "I think we have our savories."

"Ooh, let's try the sweets," Norma suggested, and laughter wafted through the kitchen like a song.

Sherilyn had spent much of her life devoid of family connection, even to some extent when her dad was still alive. Meeting Emma in college had changed all that. She always seemed to make friends so easily, and being around her brought people into Sherilyn's life by default. Gavin and Avery and Emma's Aunt Sophie, for instance, were the greatest gift of all, next to Emma herself. They'd embraced her into the Travis family without pause, and she'd come to think of them, Gavin in particular, as if she'd known them her entire life.

When she returned to Chicago and left Emma and her world behind, she'd often felt as if the city was a large cavernous bucket in which she rattled around like a lone metal pellet. Eventually, she made a friend or two, and she met Andy completely by chance when he was a groomsman at one of her weddings. Her world had begun to round out again.

But now—

She scanned the faces in the room.

Madeline
with the shape of her brother's face . . .
Georgiann
with his stoic smile . . .
Norma
with those kind eyes of his; their family connection was undeniable.

Pearl leaned over toward Susannah, and the two of them shared a laugh. Emma and Fee stood at the other end of the table, ringmasters of their small domain, and Emma's unmistakable joy warmed Sherilyn to the core.

Once again, she had Emma to thank for finding herself immersed in that feeling of family. She'd lured Sherilyn to The Tanglewood with the dangling carrot of a tailor-made job; but looking around her now, she realized it was almost certain to become far more.