Bed of Roses by Nora Roberts Page A

event. She hopes we’ll take these criticisms in the spirit with which they’re offered.”
    “To which I respond . . .” Mac shot up a middle finger.
    “Succinct.” Parker nodded. “However, I responded with our thanks for her comments, and our hopes that she and Justin enjoy Paris.”
    “Panderer,” Laurel muttered.
    “You bet. I could’ve responded with: Dear Whitney, you’re full of shit. Which was my first thought. I restrained it. I have, however, upgraded her to Monster Bitch Bride.”
    “She must be a genuinely unhappy person. Seriously,” Emma said when her friends just looked at her. “Anyone who could take a wedding day like we provided for her and pick it apart is just innately unhappy. I’d feel sorry for her if I wasn’t so mad. I will feel sorry for her when I stop being mad.”
    “Well, mad, sorry, or fuck you, the upside is we’ve had four new tours booked through that event. And I expect more.”
    “Parks said fuck.” Mac grinned and ate another grape. “She’s very mad.”
    “I’ll get over it, especially if we book four more events as a result of the stupendous job we did on Saturday. For now, I’m putting Whitney in my newly designed Closet of Doom, where everything makes her look fat, all the patterns are polka dots, and the color choices are puce or dead-flesh beige.”
    “That’s really mean,” Laurel commented. “I like it.”
    “Moving on,” Parker continued. “Del and I met about some of the legal and financial issues of the business. The partnership agreement is coming up for renewal, which includes the percentage funneled back into Vows from the individual arms for outside events. If anyone wants to discuss changes to the agreement, including the percentages, the floor’s open.”
    “It’s working, isn’t it?” Emma glanced around at her partners. “I don’t think any of us really imagined we’d build what we’ve built when we started Vows. Not just financially, which is certainly more than I’d have made by now if I’d been able to open my own shop. But, Monster Bitch Bride aside, the reputation we’ve earned, together and individually. The percentage is fair, and the fact is, the cut Del takes for his part of the estate is way below what he could’ve asked. We’re all doing what we love with people we love. And we’re making a good living at it.”
    “I think what Em’s saying is: Sign me up.” Mac popped another grape. “I say ditto.”
    “I’m right there,” Laurel added. “Is there any reason to change anything?” she asked Parker.
    “Not from my perspective, but as Del advised—in his legal function—each of you should read over the agreement again, and voice any reservations, make any suggestions before we renew.”
    “I suggest we have Del draw up the papers, sign them, then open a bottle of Dom.”
    Mac pointed at Emma in agreement. “Seconded.”
    “And the ‘ayes’ have it,” Laurel announced.
    “I’ll let him know. I’ve also had a discussion with our accountant.”
    “Better you than me,” Laurel said.
    “Much better.” Parker smiled and sipped some water. “We’ve had a strong first quarter, and are on track to increase our net profit by about twelve percent over last year. I’m advised we should consider rolling a portion of the net back into the business. So, if any or all of you have a need, whim, or selfish desire for additional equipment, or ideas on what Vows could use as a whole, we can work out what we should spend our money on, and how much we should spend.”
    Emma shot her hand up before anyone could speak. “I’ve been thinking about this, especially after I looked at my books for the last quarter. We have our biggest event, to date, next spring with the Seaman wedding. The flowers alone are going to outstrip the capacity of my cooler, so we’ll need to rent another for several days. I may be able to find a used one for a cost that could make it more practical, in the long term, than