The Wishing Tree by Marybeth Whalen Page B

again.” Ivy focused on the joy in her mother’s voice instead of the breach she was referring to, coaching herself again about running through the gauntlet. She was a ways away from making it to the other side.
    “And we have my wedding to thank for it,” Shea said, grinning as she bit into her toast, piled high with blackberry jelly. A dab of jelly dotted her nose when she looked back up at them.
    Margot laughed and wiped it away with a dish cloth. Ivy looked down, avoiding the tenderness—the comfort level—that existed between her sister and her mother. Something she used to have but didn’t anymore. Something her heart longed for.
Put it on the list
, she thought.
    Margot looked at both girls. “And speaking of weddings …”
    Ivy and Shea both chuckled in unison at their mother’s segue. It was so typical of her to see an opening to talk aboutwhat she wanted to talk about and go for it. “I guess some things never change,” Margot said, voicing Ivy’s thoughts. “I still seem to amuse you girls without even trying.”
    “You just know how to steer a conversation, Mom, that’s all.” Shea winked at Ivy. “Even if the conversation steers about as easy as a cement truck.”
    “I don’t care what you two say. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and now that Ivy’s here to help, I think we should divvy up the jobs.” She looked from one girl to the other with one eyebrow arched as they both tried to compose themselves and act serious. Even though she looked angry, Ivy guessed that she was secretly thrilled to have them teasing her together. Just like old times.
    Her mother grabbed a bulging three-ring notebook from the kitchen counter and opened it, pulling the reading glasses that hung from a beaded chain around her neck onto the bridge of her nose in one fluid motion. She peered through the lenses at whatever was in the notebook.
    “What’s that?” Ivy asked Shea.
    “The Nuptial Notebook.”
    “The Nuptial Notebook?”
    Shea grinned at Ivy’s confusion. “Aka the Bridal Binder, the Matrimonial Memo, the Wedlock Workbook, the Girl Scout’s Guide to Getting Hitched. Owen and I have several names for it, none of which she likes.”
    Margot lowered the book and narrowed her eyes at Shea before turning her attention back to it.
    Shea yanked her thumb in Margot’s direction, smiling at her ability to aggravate their mother. “She made it. It’s got all our contracts, brochures, business cards, magazineclippings, stuff like that in it. All filed away within easy reach.” Shea grinned. “Even I have to admit it’s pretty clever. You know Margot, always properly prepared like a good Southern girl.” She laughed at her own joke.
    With a pang, Ivy thought about how long her mother had probably been waiting to make that notebook, how grateful she was to Shea for giving her the opportunity. “That’s … cool,” she managed.
    Margot looked up suddenly, the glasses slipping a bit on her nose with the sudden movement. “Leah said you’re going to be helping some down at the bakery?”
    As usual, news traveled fast. “Well, she asked.”
    Her mother waved her hand through the air. “That’s fine, I just need to know how much time you have to commit. There’s quite a bit still left to be done, and ever since Owen committed us to this TV thing, everything has to be done at warp speed.”
    Shea started to speak, probably to defend Owen, but her mother waved her hand again, turning her attention back to the notebook, her face serious as she flipped through pages sheathed in clear plastic protectors. The room was silent except for the sound of the wind blowing against the windowpanes. Ivy longed to get outside and go for that walk. She looked at her mother and sister. Maybe she’d even ask them to go with her.
    Her mother closed the notebook with a thump. “Okay.” She looked at Ivy. “Today Shea and I have to go see the florist and the photographer—though why we’re even paying a photographer,