A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) by Sheila Roberts

“But I’m not twenty-one yet. I can’t drink. At least if you end up getting married here, somebody will let me have a glass of champagne.”
    “Well,
there’s
a reason not to go to Vegas,” Autumn cracked. “What do you want to do most?” she asked Laney.
    A series of images flashed across Laney’s mind—the royal wedding with all its pomp and splendor, the church weddings she’d attended growing up, images from the many websites she’d peered at over her mother’s shoulder when Mom was working. Everything felt so wide-open she almost didn’t know what to choose. But then she looked at those pictures on the Treasure Island site and smiled. “I want to go to Vegas.”
    Except Mom had called the other day to tell her about a place she’d found that would be perfect for the wedding. How the heck was she going to get out of that?

Chapter Five
    Anne, Woman with a Plan
    O n Thursday Laurel Browne dropped by the office with her Pekingese, Rufus, cuddled in her arms. Anne had heard it said that owners and their dogs often resembled each other. Looking at Laurel and Rufus, she could believe it. Both had snub noses and blond highlights. And both wore a permanent scowl.
    “Rufus and I were on our way to the groomer and thought we’d stop by,” Laurel explained. “Didn’t we, Rufus baby?”
    Oh, goody.
“Isn’t he a handsome dog,” Anne lied. “Hi, Rufus.”
    “Grrr,” Rufus replied, showing her his teeth, and not in a sweet
Look, Mom, I floss every day
kind of way.
    “I found some pictures on the internet of yellow floral arrangements,” Laurel went on, holding up her finds.
    Some? The sheaf of papers was the size of
War and Peace
. “Uh, thank you,” Anne said. She could just imagine what Kate over at In Bloom would say when she saw this.
    Anne reached to take it and Rufus snarled and snapped at her. She yanked back her hand. Yikes! Were all her fingers still attached?
    “Rufus, behave,” scolded Laurel. “I’m afraid he doesn’t like going to the groomer.”
    Or else, like his mommy, Rufus didn’t like wedding planners.
    “I’ll put them here on the desk,” Laurel said.
    “Thank you.” Anne hoped her smile looked sincere. She thought they’d settled the flower issue. Obviously, they hadn’t. “I’ll pass these on to Kate. And maybe next week you and Chelsea could come and see a few table settings,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over Rufus, who was conveying his displeasure at being deprived of a finger sandwich by barking at her.
    “Rufus baby, stop now,” Laurel cooed. “That will be fine.” No cooing for Anne. “We need to get this settled.”
    “Great,” Anne said, pretending she and Laurel and Rufus were all BFFs. “I know we’ll find something you and Chelsea are both going to love.”
    “With what I’m paying you, I hope so.”
    That again. “It’s not nearly enough to cover the pain and suffering,” Anne said as soon as the door shut behind Laurel. “And what’s with that dog?”
    “Little dogs can get aggressive when they feel cornered,” said Kendra, who owned a Norwich terrier.
    “Cornered? I’m the one who nearly lost a finger.”
    “She should’ve put the dog on the floor.”
    “So he could bite my ankle?”
    “So he wouldn’t feel threatened.” Kendra shook her head. “You’re such an animal-hater. The dog probably sensed it.”
    “I am not an animal-hater,” Anne insisted. “Just because I prefer cats.”
    “You haven’t had a cat in years.”
    It was true. After Pansy died she’d been too brokenhearted to even think about getting another pet. “I already have Cam, and one animal is enough,” Anne said, making her sister snicker. “I need a caffeine fix. Want a mocha?”
    “Sure, if you’re buying.”
    “It’s your turn but okay,” Anne said, playing the martyr.
    It didn’t work. Her sister grinned and said, “Great. I’ll take a large.”
    So off Anne went to the coffee shop on Queen Anne Avenue, where her daughter