Author: Kristan Higgins

“Nah,” Maggie said. “It’s a low-key thing. How are the flowers coming? Have you started?”

“They’ll be beautiful,” Parker said. She hoped that was true. Lavinia hadn’t seemed too concerned over what they were making.

Maggie checked her watch. “Oops. Gotta fly. I have to pick up my dress in an hour. I ate so much last night, I’m not sure it’ll fit.” She waved and bopped into the kitchen. The woman seemed perpetually happy. Then again, with tall, dark and smokin’ as her fiancé, why wouldn’t she? Plus, she was a twin, which Parker had always thought would be so cool. A brother, too, Chantal’s husband. Nice, to have siblings. Or so Parker imagined.

“She’s back there cleaning,” Althea said incredulously, craning her head. “She’s getting married tomorrow, and she’s cleaning!”

“She seems pretty laid-back.”

“Hey, Parker, guess what?” Georgie said, stopping by their booth. “I got a tux. I’m the best man. For Malone.”

“I heard that, Georgie. That’s really great. Are you nervous?”

“A little bit. I’ve been practicing.” He solemnly pantomimed reaching into his pocket and handing over the ring.

“Looks like you’ve got it nailed,” Parker said.

“Thanks! It’s a nice day, isn’t it? Well, I have to mop the kitchen floor. Bye!”

“Bye, pal.”

Althea was frowning. Sort of. Must be time for another shot of botulism if Parker could read her expression. “Parker, how do you know all these people?” she asked.

“Small town, Mom.”

“Well, you fit right in, don’t you?”

Parker paused. “I guess. Lavinia helps. I’m related to her, can’t be too bad, that sort of thing.”

Althea shrugged.

“So what’s going on, Mom?” Parker asked gently, taking a sip of her milk shake.

Her mother didn’t answer right away, choosing to examine her water glass for smudges. Finally, she spoke. “I thought you inherited the Pines.”

“So you said.”

“And I thought you might be able to loan me some money.”

Parker’s head jerked back.

Her mom sighed and nudged a cherry tomato with her fork. “Parker, I know it seems like I’m well-off, but the truth is, I’m not. Maury is, and the shriveled old bastard keeps me on a budget. A small budget. He wants me to look good, so things like clothes and jewelry, that’s fine. Anything else, anything that’s just for me, forget it.”

“I thought you were really happy,” Parker said. “Bliss incarnate and all that.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “No. I was embarrassed. Fourth husband, you’d think I could get it right. But it turns out that he has control issues, in addition to that bowel thing. Honestly, I should be getting hardship pay.”

Parker set down her burger, appetite gone. “Why don’t you leave him, Mom?”

Althea blushed. “I’m sixty-two years old, honey. I need to stay married. How would I support myself? Really?”

Parker swallowed, her eyes stinging. “I wish you’d told me earlier. I would’ve given you money, Mom.” She reached across the table and held her mother’s hand. Crap. Two months ago, she could’ve given her mother as much as she needed. Not anymore.

“I was holding out hope that Maury and I would be happy again. I was in denial, whatever.” She paused. “Aunt Julia told me years ago you were going to inherit her place, and for whatever reason, I thought she meant the Pines. You know I never kept in touch with them once you were out of high school. Then Lavinia called me and said you’d been in jail, and I really did want to help. But I also thought…well. I thought I could leave Maury and start over.”

“You’d really leave him, Mom?”

“I think he’s going to divorce me for a younger model, and with that prenup he made me sign, I don’t have much.”

“Oh, Mom. I’m sorry. I can’t help there. But you have three ex-husbands, Mom. Didn’t you save anything? And what about the Harrington money?”

Another huge sigh. “The Harrington money was gone before I was born. All that was left was the memory of what it was like to be rich and a little set aside for my education. At least there was that. And when this all happened with your father, and I heard about your trust fund, I wanted to kill him, because I know how you gave all your book money to the World Wildlife Fund—”

“Save the Children.”

“Same thing. So now we’re both stuck, it seems.” Althea sighed and rubbed her forehead. “At least you’re young. Ish. You could probably get Collier to marry you by the end of the year. He’s clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Me, I’ll have to look for someone even older than Maury.”

“You could always…” Parker’s voice trailed off.

“I could always what, dear? Become a party planner?”

She had a point. Althea had never worked, outside of the tremendous efforts she put into husband hunting and wrestling Father Time. “I don’t know, Mom. We could figure something out.”

Her mother snorted. “Well. Being dependent on a man seems to be the way of the world. My world, anyway. Father or husband, you and I have always had some man paying the bills.”

Ouch. “Guess those days are done.”

“I guess so. I hope you’ll be all right. I’d feel so much better if you did marry Collier.”

Poor Althea. She seemed completely unaware of her contradictions. Being dependent on men had gotten her where she was, but she wanted the same thing for Parker.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m doing okay. I can get a job, I have a great education, and I’ll even have a little nest egg when I sell Julia’s house.”

“That shack?”

“That shack.”

Althea nodded. “I do have a little squirreled away, honey. If you need it. If Nicky needs it.”

Parker’s heart softened in a rush. “Thank you, Mom. But we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Althea opened her eyes. “Yes. You always were a tough little customer.” She smiled more broadly. “And Collier is definitely interested, if you need a backup plan.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Do you have a type, dear?”

An image of James grinning at her, all dark hair and tanned skin and sweat and smile. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you want more children, you’d better get on it. Those eggs don’t last forever.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Parker couldn’t help a laugh, and after a second, her mother smiled.

“I only want what’s best for you, Parker. Whatever that might be.”

“Right back at you, Mom.”

Underneath the table, her mother’s foot nudged hers. It was the most genuine gesture of affection Parker could remember. “Do you want to stay here?” she asked. “Nicky’s coming up a week from Sunday. He’d love to spend time with you.”

“I can’t, honey. I need to get back and see what I can squeeze out of that cadaver before he serves me with divorce papers.”

“Jeesh, Mom.” Parker laughed.

“Anyway, I have a flight out of Bangor at six. Tomorrow’s our charity fashion show. I’m walking the runway. Can you believe it? Part of the tryouts for Real Housewives.”

“I thought you were afraid Maury’s divorcing you.”

“What does that have to do with the show, sweetheart? Half those marriages are shams. More than half, I’m sure.”

“Right. Well, good luck,” Parker said, grimacing. “What are you wearing?”

“A gown. Feathers. It’s a Christian Siriano.”

“Cool.”

“You don’t even know who that is, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Yet I claim you as mine.” Althea stood up. “Lunch is on me, darling. Back to the coal mines. Don’t marry an older man, Parker. I can’t remember the last time I was properly laid.”

“You should talk to Lavinia. The woman is a walking sex education.”

Althea smiled. “She always was. Maybe I’ll stop by her shop. Well, take care, darling.” She air-kissed Parker on each side, but Parker pulled her bony little mother against her and hugged her properly, getting a little contact high on Chanel No. Five.

“Love you, Mommy.”

Althea squeezed her back. “I love you, too, honey. By the way, Pilates will do wonders for that little tummy of yours. And trust me, in five years, this—” she pinched Parker’s ass “—will be three inches lower than it is now. Tempus fugit. Bye! I’ll call soon.”

Bemused, Parker watched her mother leave, seemingly resigned to her fate with Maury. For the moment, anyway. Odd, that she’d come to Parker for help. Odd, but nice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“DON’T KNOW WHY your panties are in such a twist,” Lavinia said a few hours later. “It’s not your wedding.”

“Well, I like Maggie. And Malone.” She wound a blue ribbon around the stem of a bouquet, fingers flying.

“So do I,” Lavinia said. “Just don’t see what’s so awful about them there.” She gestured toward the Teleflora book, circa 1972, at the arrangements she’d told Parker they’d be reproducing.

“Orange chrysanthemums, Vin? We’re not doing orange chrysanthemum centerpieces. Trust me. We can do gorgeous.”

“Well, for three hundred bucks, it’s gonna be only so gorgeous.” Lavinia did her trademark stub-out, and while Parker’s own hands had developed some calluses these past couple of weeks, the sight of ciggie against palm still made her flinch.

“It’ll be gorgeous. You’ll see. Get here early, okay?”

“No way in hell I’m getting up at 5:00 a.m., Parker. I got a date with His Honor tonight.”

“I’m sure what he’s doing is illegal.”

“Oh, it is, all right. In some states.”

Parker laughed. “I meant, making you go out with him instead of fining you for growing pot—”

“Medical marijuana, please.”

“—without a license.”

“Whatever, Parker. I’m just scraping by with the flowers. Figured the pot would help. I’m hardly a drug dealer.”

“No. That’s me.” Parker set down the flower-girl bouquet and started on the bridesmaid’s.

Vin laughed. “Look at you, Miss Busy Bee. Want my help with anything?”

Parker straightened up and looked around. The shop was a mess. “You can do the boutonnieres, okay? A little bitty sprig of hydrangea, and a piece of ivy, like this.”

“I think I can make a boutonniere, Parker,” her cousin said. “I’ve been in business for thirty years.”

“Got it. Sorry, Vin.”

Lavinia gave her a grudging smile. “Ah, well. I admit…you’re not half-bad at this.”

By four o’clock, Parker’s back was aching, and they still had miles to go. But Lavinia was growling about the judge, and honestly, everything that could be done today was done. She’d take care of the rest in the morning.

“Vin, you go ahead. You have a date. I’ll clean up.”

“It’s more of a sex date. What do you kids call that these days?”

“Booty call?”

“Ayuh. Don’t get me wrong, my eyes are wide open. Men would f**k a fur-lined knothole, you know what I mean? I’m just glad to be getting a little some-some at my age.”

Parker grinned. “I’m so glad we’re related,” she said honestly.