“Phillipe?”

  “That’s the one. Then after a few days in Paris maybe you could go somewhere in the Mediterranean. That’s what I think she’d like. But, you know, it might be better if you asked her. A wedding is an important part of a woman’s life. If you surprise her and get it wrong, her memories will always be a little bit tainted.”

  He shoved the brochures back into his pocket. “I wish you weren’t so right. I’ll talk to her. Paris—why didn’t I think of that?”

  She crunched some salad, still in planning mode. “Maybe we could have a simple reception when you get back? So the parents and friends can still be part of your celebration. I know I’d like that.”

  “Thanks, Karen. That’s a great idea.”

  He pulled out his BlackBerry and made a notation. Then he glanced up.

  “How do you say I do in French?”

  She and Dexter had talked about going to Paris. Well, doing all of Europe. She’d never been and Dex had promised to show her all the sights. She doubted she’d ever go now.

  “Oui,” she told David. “Whatever anyone asks you, just say, Oui.”

  24

  “MAYBE ANOTHER I-beam,” Dex suggested to the construction foreman as they stood contemplating the fact that the Philadelphia hotel’s structure had a few weaknesses they were uncovering as the renovation began.

  In his experience there were always unforeseen issues in a building this old, but with the wonders of modern technology and building materials, most could be fixed while still maintaining the architectural integrity.

  “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Then we could use some of the reclaimed brick—”

  “So you are still in town,” a cool female voice hailed him.

  He turned. “Sophie? How did you get in here?”

  She smiled at him. Nodded to the foreman. “Never doubt the abilities of a tenacious woman.”

  Since she had a look in her eye that suggested he didn’t care to have a bunch of construction guys hear their conversation, he said, “How ’bout I buy you a coffee?”

  “Why don’t you?”

  He gave the foreman a few instructions and then left with Sophie on his arm and a wary feeling in his gut.

  She waited until they were out of earshot before saying, “I haven’t seen you since Christmas. You don’t return calls.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “I had my last wedding planning meeting today, and it was weird without you.”

  He’d known it, of course, since Sophie had e-mailed him the date and texted him and left a phone message. He grabbed his thick coat and held the door for her to exit. “How’s Karen?”

  “She looks pale. And like she’s not getting enough sleep. Sort of like you look. When I walked in for our meeting, she definitely was hoping you’d be there. I could tell she was disappointed you weren’t.”

  “Like I said, I’m busy with work. Besides, the wedding’s all planned. You don’t need me. Karen’s fantastic at what she does.”

  “I know. I like you both being there, that’s all. I’m used to it. And you have good ideas.”

  He led her into the closest coffee shop and when they were both settled with lattes, he said, “You didn’t come here to tell me I missed a meeting. What’s up?”

  “Honestly, I want to make sure you’ll be at the wedding. Andrew’s counting on you as his best man. If you’re going all high school on me and can’t be in the same room with your ex then I need to know about it.”

  “Of course I’ll be there for the wedding. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Sophie shrugged her slender shoulders. “I guess. Mostly I just miss Andrew. I wish he were here.”

  “I’m sure he feels the same way.”

  “He does. In fact, he went ahead and booked me a flight to Italy for the week before the wedding.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. I’ll be able to relax and spend some time with the man I love. Then we’ll fly home for the wedding. It’ll be so much better than hanging around waiting. And this way, I don’t spend Valentine’s Day on my own. You know?”

  “Sure.”

  She sipped her drink. “She asked after you, by the way.”

  A flicker of hope stabbed at his chest. “Really.”

  “Yep. She asked how you were. And she’d really dressed up for the meeting.”

  “She always dresses well.”

  “It was a dress designed to get her man back. A woman can tell these things.”

  He thought this woman was too filled with romantic notions to be a reliable witness, but he appreciated the effort. “All she has to do is call me,” he said. He’d been waiting for that call for so many weeks that he knew now it wouldn’t come.

  He’d been wrong about Karen. She didn’t love him enough to battle back her demons. And the loss of her for the second time was more painful than he’d imagined possible.

  As bittersweet as it would be to see his ex-wife again, he was all but counting the days.

  They finished their coffees and Sophie gave him a big hug as she was leaving. “I’m telling you, she misses you.”

  He hugged her back. “Have fun in Italy. Tell Andrew hi.”

  “See you at the wedding.”

  “SOME DAYS I FEEL like I was put on earth to help people celebrate true love,” Karen said to Laurel, in a particularly good mood since the Vanderhooven wedding was today and everything, including the weather, seemed to be smiling on the event.

  “Which is weird considering you don’t believe in love.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Laurel had changed subtly over the past weeks. Karen couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but the woman seemed more outspoken than she used to be. And she had a certain glow about her as though she knew all the secrets of the universe. It was both attractive and, to someone who felt that all the secrets were forever hidden from her, kind of annoying.

  The cake creator was working on the finishing touches to Sophie Vanderhooven’s cake and it was, perhaps, her greatest achievement yet.

  “That is so beautiful,” Karen said, pleasure gushing through her. The cake was tiered in traditional style but Laurel had taken the garden theme and made a whimsical, tiered garden, with a twist. It was a Tuscan garden complete with olive trees, lemon trees and cascades of purple bougainvillea, all done in icing.

  Just looking at the cake made her happy.

  She’d even dressed to match the garden theme in a dark green suit, the color of rose leaves, with a white silk camisole underneath and brand-new shoes to match.

  Everything was on track for a wedding that would be as close to perfect as any wedding can be. Of course, she’d have to see Dexter again, but she planned to stay as far in the background as possible and out of his way.

  Then, after today, she’d never have to see him again. If the thought brought more pain than she’d imagined, she knew she’d get used to it. Experience had taught her that heartbreak dulled over time.

  While she was admiring the cake, and trying to ignore the racket of Chelsea’s crew preparing the food that would be served at the reception later, Chelsea came up behind them. There was a sparkle in her eyes and a glow that had nothing to do with cosmetics.

  Laurel glanced up, gazed at Chelsea for a few moments and then went back to her task of piping tiny green leaves. “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  Chelsea put her hands on her hips and tried to pout. “I thought I was going to surprise you. How did you know David and I are eloping to Paris?”

  “Your fiance’s not very good at keeping secrets. He’s getting us to organize a reception for when you get back.”

  “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that.” She tied her white apron tighter around her slim waist. “Who’s catering the reception?”

  “You are,” Karen informed her.

  “What?” She looked both horrified and relieved.

  “Come on, you know you wouldn’t be happy if we got one of your competitors to cater your reception, so we have a plan. Don’t we, Laurel?”

  “That’s right. You pick out what you want and Anton and I will manage your staff. You know Anton can make your recipes almost as good as you can yourself.”

  “Well, his puff pastry is excellent, but he has a tendency to put too much salt in his sauces. I should—”

  “Relax, that’s what you should do.” Karen took her friend by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “We all love you. We want to do this for you. After you’re back and married and there’s no stress.”

  The women exchanged a quick hug. “Thanks,” Chelsea said. Then, as though she couldn’t help herself, added, “I’m so happy.”

  “You should be. You deserve it.” Since such sentiments threatened to make both women damp-eyed, Chelsea turned to Laurel and asked, “What kind of cake are you making me?”

  “The Eiffel tower.”

  “Isn’t that a little—I don’t know. Unlike you? It’s so obvious.”

  Laurel chuckled and adjusted a tiny lemon on a tiny lemon tree. “Sometimes I surprise even myself. But I thought about it and the Eiffel Tower is the perfect metaphor for the relationship between you and David. It’s strong and yet elegant, iconic and unforgettable.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  “I think most people associate the Eiffel tower with romance and Paris, obviously, where you trained and where you’re getting married.” She bent close to her cake to nudge a purple petal. “I can change it if you want.”

  “No,” Chelsea said. “You are right as always. It is perfect.”

  “When are you leaving?” Karen asked.

  “Whenever you can do without me for a couple of weeks.”

  “How does Sunday sound?”

  She and David had already planned the dates, but she didn’t feel any need to share that with Chelsea.

  “Really?” she squealed. “You can do without me so fast?”

  “It’s all arranged.”

  Chelsea put a hand on her belly and breathed deeply. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting married after being engaged twice. To the same man.”

  “I know,” Karen said. “It’s so great.”

  Anton’s voice interrupted them. “Chels, can you check this pomegranate infusion? I’m not sure it’s thick enough.”

  The wedding was taking place at the bride’s aunt’s estate, one of the grand old homes still remaining in the Main Line suburbs.

  After checking that everything was running smoothly on the food end, Karen grabbed her binder, her pack of supplies and headed for her car.

  She arrived to the usual scene of organized chaos. Flowers were arriving right on schedule, her delivery guys were carrying in stacks of chairs for the ballroom where the actual wedding would take place.

  In order to convey the garden theme for a winter wedding, the floral designer, Bertrand, had brought in fresh flowers by the truckload. The effect made her smile. To see pots of daffodils, irises, tulips and hyacinths sending out their evocative fragrance, and tubs of roses arranged in formation to give the idea that the indoor space was a garden of different beds representing different seasons.

  The designer was directing the placing of pots of chrysanthemums himself. Even though she’d seen a sketch of the design she was still enthralled by the real thing.

  “You have outdone yourself, Bertrand,” she cried.

  “I think so,” he said. Bertrand was not a man who underrated his own talents. He came forward to greet her, an urbane man with a goatee and wearing a black silk blazer, to kiss her on both cheeks. “By holding the ceremony in an ever-blooming garden we suggest that love is always in season.”

  Trite, perhaps and, given the national divorce rate with a slightly higher than fifty percent chance of being true, she still loved the notion.

  “It’s gorgeous, better even than I’d imagined.”

  He nodded, not at all surprised that he’d impressed her yet again. But then with the prices he charged, he should be impressive.

  She slipped back into the ballroom after the floral crew had finished, as she always did, checking that everything was perfect.

  As she walked among the rows of chairs, adjusting this one, moving a potted plant a half an inch that way, her gaze fell on a pot of yellow roses, very like the ones she’d carried at her own wedding. As she walked forward to touch a soft, creamy yellow petal, she felt an odd peace steal over her.

  Love did matter.

  Couples every day were brave enough to make a commitment before friends and family, cynics and romantics, and do their best to make a go of it. She took a moment to silently wish Sophie and Andrew success in their married life.

  She’d been alone, with two hundred empty chairs and hundreds of blooming plants representing the four seasons, from snowdrops to chrysanthemums and even a tub or two of holly. Suddenly, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. She felt a presence.

  Turned.

  Dexter was standing before her in his tux, and in that moment she was transported back to her wedding day. They were both older now, but her heart still jumped painfully to see him in that outfit, so reminiscent of the day she’d promised to love him forever, for better or worse.

  Trouble was, nobody had explained that the worse might include infidelity. She’d put up with a great deal, but after living with a father who couldn’t keep his pants zipped, and a mother who made excuses, she knew she couldn’t repeat that pattern.

  She forced her racing pulse to slow—and when that didn’t work, she hoped he wouldn’t notice his effect on her and walked calmly forward.

  “Place looks great,” he said. His eyes warmed as they looked her over. “And so do you, Kiki. I always liked that color on you.”

  “Thanks. This is my favorite part,” she admitted. “These last few hours when everything’s all excitement and coming together into the most perfect wedding.”

  “Do you ever get tired of it?”

  “Never. Every wedding is unique. Every story is theirs to be written.”

  “Seen the bride yet?”

  “No.” A tiny frown tried to settle but she wouldn’t let it. There was time yet. “She should be here any minute to start getting changed. How ’bout you? Seen the groom?”

  “No. I think he’s coming straight from the airport.”

  She shook her head. “I really hate it when people cut the time that fine. What if the plane’s late?”

  “Relax,” he said soothingly, which was easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one planning the wedding. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “I’ve—” The door opened and he stepped back. She wondered what he’d been going to say. I’ve missed you? It’s what she would have said if she had the guts. She’d missed him. Seeing him again only reminded her of how badly.

  Sophie’s aunt entered the space. “Sorry to interrupt, Karen, but the wedding party seems to be arriving.”

  “Sophie and Andrew?”

  “Not yet. Only the minor royalty so far.”

  Bridesmaids and groomsmen streamed in the big front doors and Karen sent them to their assigned rooms and still there was no bride or groom. “Where’s Sophie?” she asked the maid of honor.

  “She’s coming in with Andrew, I think.”

  “You mean she’s picking him up at the airport? I specifically told her to—”

  “No. She’s there. With him. In Italy. They’re coming in on the same plane.”

  “But—” There was no point telling the poor maid of honor that the bride wasn’t following agreed-on protocol. “Never mind,” she said with her reassuring smile. “They’ve got plenty of time.”

  She was slightly less reassured when the guests began arriving. Sophie’s aunt sent her increasingly questioning glances and she could only reply with an uplifting of the shoulders. She had no idea where the bride was. Sophie wasn’t answering her cell phone nor the groom his.

  To get away from the melee, Karen walked into the kitchen where Chelsea was overseeing food and drink and David was serving as a bartender as he sometimes did in order to be with his fiancée on a big night.

  He was exuberant and surprised Karen by picking her up and swinging her in a circle. “I got her to commit. Did you see that?”

  She laughed. “I did.”

  He was so happy it was impossible not to laugh. “Oh, David,” Chelsea said, her apron covering one of her designer Paris dresses. “Stop goofing around and slice lemons or something useful.”

  “Henpecked already,” he complained, before heading off to do as he was bid.

  “Coming through,” Laurel’s voice could be heard, louder and more commanding than usual.

  Laurel was bringing in her cake. This was always a tense time for her as one slip and fall meant that days of hard work were lost and the wedding would be minus one cake. To Karen’s surprise, Ron was with her, helping. “Ron, hi,” she said, surprised.

  “Hello, Karen,” he said, as though he was to be found in the back kitchen of all her weddings. Whatever, she had no time to visit.

  “Okay, I’ve got the table all set up ready for the cake. Follow me.” She cleared the way and between them they got the cake safely stowed in the large formal dining room. Laurel fussed with it a bit until the confectionary garden was once again perfect.

  Ron stepped back to watch Laurel, and she bet he didn’t even realize he was smiling like a lovestruck fool.

  He was dressed as neatly as always but somehow he appeared more casual. She guessed it was because his entire attitude was so much more relaxed.

  And then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. There were only the three of them in the large room. She said, “Ron, would you mind going into the kitchen and bringing me a pair of scissors?”