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teenagers is interesting.”
    She thought it was bound to be more volatile, though that might be interesting. “What do you teach?”
    “English Literature, Creative Writing.”
    “ Henry the Fifth .”
    “There you go. Mrs. Brown had me out here a couple of times when I was working with Del. I was sorry to hear about the accident. She was an incredibly nice woman.”
    “Best ever. We can go in this way. It’s too cold to walk all the way around.”
    She led him in through the mudroom, into the warmth. “You can stow your gear in here. You’re still on the early side. We’ll get you some coffee in the meantime.” She shed coat, scarf, hat while she spoke, moving quickly. “No event today, so the main kitchen’s clear.”
    She picked up her bags again while he carefully hung his coat, as opposed to the way she’d tossed hers in the direction of the hook. She seemed to vibrate with movement while standing still as he hauled up the large bag again.
    “We’ll find you a place to—” Mac broke off as Emma walked toward the main kitchen.
    “There you are. Parker was about to . . . Carter?”
    “Hi, Emmaline, how are you?”
    “I’m fine. Good. How did you . . . Sherry. I didn’t realize you were coming with Sherry.”
    “He is and he isn’t. He’ll explain. Get him some coffee, will you, and some ice for his head? I’ve got to get these to the bride.”
    She grabbed the heavy bag from Carter, and was off.
    Emma pursed her lips as she studied the scrape, and said, “Ouch. What did you do?”
    “I walked into a wall. You can skip the ice, it’s doing okay.”
    “Well, come in, have a seat and some coffee. I was just coming back to do a setup for the consult.”
    She led the way, gestured to a stool and a long, honey-toned counter. “Are you here to give moral support to the bride and groom?”
    “I’m standing in for the groom. He had an emergency.”
    Emma nodded as she got out a cup and saucer. “You’ll have that with doctors. And aren’t you the brave brother?”
    “I said no, in several different ways. None of them worked. Thanks,” he added when she poured the coffee.
    “Take comfort. You’ll just have to sit there and eat cookies.”
    He dumped some cream into his coffee. “Can I get that in writing?”
    She laughed and began to arrange cookies on a plate. “Trust me. Added to it, you’ll score major good brother points. How’re your parents?”
    “Good. I saw your mother last week, at the bookstore.”
    “She loves that job.” Emma handed him a cookie. “Mac should be about done with her client. I’m going to take these in and I’ll come back for you.”
    “I guess if I just hid in here, I’d lose the brave brother title.”
    “You would. I’ll be back.”
    He’d known Emma through Sherry, and their respective parents’ friendship, since they’d been children. It was odd, just odd to think of Emma making his sister’s bridal bouquet. It was just odd that his little sister would need a bridal bouquet.
    It was as disorienting somehow as walking into a stupid wall.
    He gave his forehead a little poke, winced. It wasn’t so much that it hurt, which it did, but that everyone would ask him what happened. He’d be explaining his own clumsiness repeatedly—and every time he did, he’d get a mental flashback to Mackensie Elliot in a really tiny bra and low-slung black pants.
    He ate the cookie and tried to decide if that was a perk or a burden.
    Emma came back for him, and for another tray. “You might as well come on out. I’m sure Sherry will be here any minute.”
    “Because she’s already ten minutes late.” He took the tray from her. “She’s on Sherry Time.”
    The house was much as he remembered it. The walls were a soft, muted gold now where his memory said they’d been an elegant, understated green. But the wide, ornate trim was as glossy, the space as generous, the furnishings as gleaming.
    Art and antiques, flowers in old, exquisite crystal illuminated