Flower Girl Bride by Dana Corbit Page B

follow. I set my shoes on the floor next to the door and slipped off Luke’s tuxedo jacket, pressing it into his arms.
    â€œThanks. I appreciate it.” I rubbed my hands together, trying to ignore the odd sensation in my fingers from having brushed his.
    My aunt was already in the kitchen dishing up slices from the remaining hunk of wedding cake. Several other guests, most of whom had already traded their wedding attire for casual comfort, were scattered about the great room, chatting or nibbling on leftovers. Uncle Jack and Sam sat at the bar that divided the great roomfrom the kitchen, eating pieces of cake and drinking from tall glasses of milk.
    I sauntered past them barefoot into the kitchen and lifted the cake server from Eleanor’s hand. I sliced a few more pieces and placed them on the clear glass dessert plates my aunt had spread out on the counter.
    â€œYou’re tired,” I told her. “You don’t have to show me everything tonight. Just make a list. I’ll be able to figure it out.” If I couldn’t manage something as simple as a list of cat duties, then my master’s degree wasn’t worth the parchment it was written on.
    â€œWe won’t have much time before church, and we have to leave for the Muskegon Airport right after,” Jack pointed out. “You know, it’s rush-rush-rush so we can fly to Detroit Metro for that long layover. What is it, four hours?”
    Eleanor nodded. “I guess if we hurry in the morning, we’ll be able to show you everything. Our sweetie will need her three meals plus snacks.”
    As she spoke, she ticked off list items on her fingers. “Her litter box will need regular scooping and fully changing every third day. Then there’s playtime with her toys and, of course, her drinks.”
    â€œDrinks?” Luke and I both asked at the same time, and I glanced back at him, surprised to find him behind me. He reached past me to take one of the plates, a fork and a napkin.
    Uncle Jack’s rumble of laughter filled the room. “It’s a funny story, isn’t it, Ellie?”
    â€œIt’s funny, all right.” She gave her husband a warm look before letting the rest of the crowd in on the joke. “When Princess was a kitten, we used to turn the fauceton to let her bat at the water. Cats like to do that sometimes. Well, as it turns out, she likes to drink from the faucet, too.”
    â€œBut she also drinks from a water bowl, right?” Luke asked.
    Eleanor shook her head. “No, not really. I mean she might if every faucet in the house were broken and there wasn’t a flowing drop to spare, but I’ve never seen evidence that she even touches her water bowl.”
    â€œAnd my tenderhearted Ellie thought it would be cruel to dehydrate the little tooters just to break her of the habit when we were always around anyway.” Jack explained.
    â€œPrincess is a little…privileged then?” Luke said.
    â€œSpoiled rotten is what she is,” Jack said, laughing again. “She rules the roost around here, but we love her anyway.”
    â€œShe’s our baby,” Eleanor agreed.
    Everybody seemed to think this was hilarious—everyone except me. I was too busy trying to fight off the cloud of doom dangling over me. What had I gotten myself into? Princess turned into a feline chainsaw whenever we crossed paths, and I was expected to give her drinks from the faucet. I would have to feed her and play with her and make sure her kitty potty smelled fresh all while having to avoid the business end of her claws.
    While the others continued to laugh, Luke leaned close to me and whispered, “It’s not such a plum job after all.”
    I shrugged since he had a point.
    Yvonne and Marcus Sheridan, who’d been talking to some other guests in the great room, made their wayinto the kitchen together, and Yvonne rested an elbow on the bar next to her grandson.
    â€œIt