Bed of Roses Read Free Page B

white frame, one of three young girls playing Wedding Day in a summer garden. She’d been bride that day, and had held the bouquet of weeds and wildflowers, worn the lace veil. And had been just as charmed and delighted as her friends when the blue butterfly landed on the dandelion in her bouquet.
    Mac had been there, too, of course. Behind the camera, capturing the moment. Emma considered it a not-so-small miracle that they’d turned what had been a favored childhood game of make-believe into a thriving business.
    No dandelions these days, she thought as she fluffed pillows. But how many times had she seen that same delighted, dazzled look on a bride’s face when she’d offered her a bouquet she’d made for her? Just for her.
    She hoped the meeting about to begin would end in a wedding next spring with just that dazzled look on the bride’s face.
    She arranged her files, her albums, her books, then moved to the mirror to check her hair, her makeup, the line of the jacket and pants she’d changed into.
    Presentation, she thought, was a priority of Vows.
    She turned from the mirror to answer her phone with a cheerful, “Centerpiece of Vows. Yes, hello, Roseanne. Of course I remember you. October wedding, right? No, it’s not too early to make those decisions.”
    As she spoke, Emma took a notebook out of her desk, flipped it open. “We can set up a consultation next week if that works for you. Can you bring a photo of your dress? Great. And if you’ve selected the attendants’ dresses, or their colors . . . ? Mmm-hmm. I’ll help you with all of that. How about next Monday at two?”
    She logged in the appointment, then glanced over her shoulder as she heard a car pull up.
    A client on the phone, another coming to the door.
    God, she loved spring!
     
     
     
    E MMA SHOWED HER LAST CLIENT OF THE DAY THROUGH THE DISPLAY area where she kept silk arrangements and bouquets as well as various samples on tables and shelves.
    “I made this up when you e-mailed me the photo of your dress, and gave me the basic idea of your colors and your favorite flowers. I know you’d talked about preferring a large cascade bouquet, but . . .”
    Emma took the bouquet of lilies and roses, tied with white pearl-studded ribbon off the shelf. “I just wanted you to see this before you made a firm decision.”
    “It’s beautiful, plus my favorite flowers. But it doesn’t seem, I don’t know, big enough.”
    “With the lines of your dress, the column of the skirt, and the beautiful beadwork on the bodice, the more contemporary bouquet could be stunning. I want you to have exactly what you want, Miranda. This sample is closer to what you have in mind.”
    Emma took a cascade from the shelf.
    “Oh, it’s like a garden!”
    “Yes, it is. Let me show you a couple of photos.” She opened the folder on the counter, took out two.
    “It’s my dress! With the bouquets.”
    “My partner Mac is a whiz with Photoshop. These give you a good idea how each style looks with your dress. There’s no wrong choice. It’s your day, and every detail should be exactly what you want.”
    “But you’re right, aren’t you?” Miranda studied both pictures. “The big one sort of, well, overwhelms the dress. But the other, it’s like it was made for it. It’s elegant, but it’s still romantic. It is romantic, isn’t it?”
    “I think so. The lilies, with that blush of pink against the white roses, and the touches of pale green. The trail of the white ribbon, the glow of the pearls. I thought, if you liked it, we might do just the lilies for your attendants, maybe with a pink ribbon.”
    “I think . . .” Miranda carried the sample bouquet over to the old-fashioned cheval glass that stood in the corner. Her smile bloomed like the flowers as she studied herself. “I think it looks like some really creative fairies made it. And I love it.”
    Emma noted it down in her book. “I’m glad you do. We’ll work around that, sort of spiraling out