"Another romance blossoms at the Tanglewood Inn."
Reviewed by Viki Ferrell
Posted March 18, 2012
Romance Contemporary | Inspirational Romance
Audrey Walker has been designing haute couture wedding gowns
since she was nine. At that age, she designed gowns for
every Barbie in her neighborhood. Today her design business
is struggling. She is hoping to land a job designing a gown
for a very well-known movie star. That will at least keep
her afloat for a while. Meanwhile, she is on her way to
Atlanta and the Tanglewood Inn for her BFF's wedding. Carly
Madison is marrying the love of her life, Devon Hunt.
J. R. Hunt has also just rolled into Atlanta for his
brother's wedding. J. R. is a free spirit who bikes across
the country restoring old motorcycles. He's quite a contrast
to Devon, a United States Marine through and through. The
moment Audrey walks into the Tanglewood, J. R. can't take
his eyes off of her. She's a real beauty: tall and slender
with platinum blond hair and gorgeous caramel eyes. Audrey
senses his stare and feels really uncomfortable. And it
seems that all the festivities keep matching Audrey and J.
R. together. Where is this time spent together heading?
The wedding does not come off without a hitch. Devon passes
out just after the "I dos" and is rushed to the hospital for
an emergency appendectomy. That means J. R. and Audrey will
have to remain in Atlanta a few more days for a cake-cutting
celebration since the reception was never completed. What
will this extra time together hold in store for them?
Meanwhile, Audrey does not get the design job she had hoped
for, but another job falls in her lap in the way of doing a
favor for a friend. This one is quite a challenge since the
bride-to-be is a size twenty-six. Audrey has never designed
for a plus-sized bride, but the money will help keep her
business going for the time being.
The relationship for J. R. and Audrey is not the only
romance in bloom at the Tangelwood Inn. Get reacquainted
with all the gang in this endearing tale of romance and
faith. Will Audrey find the right direction to take her
business? Is there a possibility that she can tame the
spirit of wanderlust in J. R.? I've read all of the books in
this delightful series by Sandra Bricker, and they are a
real treat. The end of each chapter gives some wedding tips
and recipes for foods mentioned in the story. You will not
want to miss ALWAYS THE DESIGNER, NEVER THE BRIDE.
SUMMARY
Audrey Regan has spent years establishing herself as a
top-notch wedding dress designer and to date, she's been
roped into creating dresses for nine of her girlfriends.
When she finally vows to "Just say no!" her friend Carly
sends her Wedding Request #10. She can hardly turn her very
best friend down!
Excerpt1
Audrey, the car will be here any minute. You're going to
miss
your plane."
"Shh. I just need another minute."
She leaned down over her sketch pad, nibbling the corner
of her lip as she put the finishing touches on the train of
an elaborate A-line wedding dress.
"Oh, Audrey! That's beautiful. Is it for Kim?"
She didn't reply for another moment or two; not until
she felt perfectly secure in the fact that she could lay
down her pencil and be done with it.
"There are two others in the leather portfolio in my
closet. The messenger will be here at three o'clock to pick
them up and get them into Manhattan by four." She handed
her assis- tant the finished product, pausing for an
instant to admire the drawing. "Be very careful about it,
but put this one with the others, and be sure to zip it all
the way around so they aren't wrinkled. Just give him the
whole case, and call Kim once he's on his way to give her a
heads-up that they'll be delivered to the penthouse."
"Will do."
"My plane lands in Atlanta at five-something, and it
will take me an hour or so to get out to Roswell where this
hotel is located. You've shipped—"
"And confirmed. Carly's dress is safe and sound at The
Tanglewood Inn, awaiting your arrival."
Audrey sighed as she cast a quick glance toward the door
where Kat had lined up her pink plaid luggage. One
oversized rectangular case and one large round one, both
on wheels, both packed to full capacity.
Audrey applied a glaze of Cherry Bliss to her lips while
Kat added the final sketch to the leather case. She paused
with the wand in mid-air until she heard the vvhht of the
zipper. As she slipped the tube into its compartment inside
her purse, the buzzer sounded.
"That will be your car," Kat announced. "But before you
go . . ."
Kat grabbed Audrey's hand and placed a compact little
cell phone into it, closing her fingers around it. "Now
this is the simplest cellular phone available."
"Kat, I do not want one of these. I told you that." "I
know. But you have to."
Audrey stared at the strange thing on her palm. "What do
I do?"
"If it jingles, you open it. Like this." Kat
demonstrated. "It will either be a phone call—in
which case you press the blinking green button—or a
text, which will come up automatically."
"Ah, maaan . . ."
"I know. But it's the best way to keep in contact. You
want to keep in contact with me, don't you?"
Audrey groaned. "Yes."
"So put this in your purse."
Audrey reluctantly tossed the thing into her bag as Kat
pressed buttons on her own much more complicated-looking
cell phone. An instant later, Audrey's purse began to . . .
sing.
"It sounds like a harp."
"That's your cue to pull it out and open it." Kat stared
at her for a moment before nodding at Audrey's purse. "Go
on. Answer it."
"I already know who it is." "Audrey."
Audrey groaned again as she produced the cell phone,
unfolded it and stared at the thing.
"The green button," Kat prodded.
Audrey pressed the button and held the phone in the
vicin- ity of her ear. "Audrey Regan isn't available right
now, but please feel free to take a flying leap at the
tone." As Kat opened her mouth to reply, Audrey interrupted
with a "Beeeeeep."
Kat shook her head as she pushed the button on the wall
intercom and she told the driver, "Come on in. We have a
couple of bags." Back to Audrey, she remarked, "Text me
when you arrive. Do you want me to show you how?"
"I'll call. Let me know the minute you confirm the
sketches have reached Kim."
"Will do."
"The very minute, Katarina. We need this." "I know.
She's going to love them."
"As long as she loves them more than Vera Wang and Austin
Scarlett."
Audrey paused in front of the full-length etched mirror
propped against the wall. She smoothed the straight pencil
skirt and adjusted the corset belt around her waist.
"Car for JFK," the driver announced, grabbing both of
the bags.
"How much, by the way?" she asked as she followed him
down the stairs.
"Ninety-five," Kat called out from the
doorway. "Already charged to your card."
"Ninety-five dollars, from Soho to JFK?"
"You can grab a taxi for fifty bucks, Princess," the
driver snapped, letting the street door flap shut in her
face.
Audrey turned and looked back at Kat, standing in the
doorway at the top of the stairs. "Charming."
Kat chuckled. "Have a good flight." "One can only hope."
As she climbed into the back seat of the dark blue
sedan, Audrey appreciated the good sense she'd had to hire
Katarina Ivanov. Staring blankly out the window, Audrey
sighed as the driver took a left on Kenmore.
She'd held interviews on a Tuesday afternoon in the
corner booth at the Village Tart, and Kat had arrived
fifteen minutes early. She'd ordered a coffee at another
table while Audrey fin- ished up with the design school
student who looked like a cross between Buddy Holly and
Kramer from Seinfeld. When they were through, the young man
stood over Audrey, tapping his shiny patent leather shoe.
"So let's cut right to it, shall we?" he'd said, glaring
at her over the bridge of thick black-rimmed glasses. "Do I
have a shot at this or not? I'm only asking because I have
two more interviews after yours, and I need to know whether
I can blow them off."
"I think I can answer that," Kat told him as she
transferred her espresso to Audrey's table and sat
down. "Go on the inter- views. I think we've decided which
candidate is the best choice. I'm so sorry, but good luck
to you." Her smile emanated a ray of pure sunshine.
The boy grimaced at her before he looked back at Audrey.
She only shrugged. Twenty seconds later, the front door of
the café thudded shut behind him.
"Did I go too far?" Kat asked her as she crossed her
legs and wrinkled up her nose, flipping short dark waves of
hair. "I know. Sometimes I go too far. But he was wasting
your time. You weren't going to hire him."
"I wasn't?"
"No," she said confidently, sliding her résumé across
the table, only a slight trace of amusement in her dark
brown eyes. "Even if you don't hire me, you certainly can't
hire him. He's high maintenance; he's a drama a day, at
least. And you don't need that."
"I don't."
"No. You need stability. Loyalty. You need a take-
charge, organized fashionista who makes her workday all
about you." And Katarina Ivanov had been doing just that
for more than a year since. Two parts Mother Earth and one
part All- Business. Audrey had no idea what she would ever
have done
without her.
"Where are you going?" she suddenly asked the
driver. "Are you taking the Van Wyck Expressway?"
"I got an idea," he tossed back at her over his
shoulder. "You worry about your hat and gloves, and I'll
take care of getting you to JFK."
I'm not wearing a hat and gloves, you Neanderthal.
When he glanced into the rearview and noticed Audrey
seething at him, he sighed. "Don't worry your pretty little
head. I'll get you there, Princess. Deal? Okay. Deal."
Audrey dug her bright red fingernails into her palms.
I despise New York.
But she knew it wasn't the city so much as the energy of
the place. Ten million people crammed into jam-packed
streets, everyone trying to get somewhere, all of them
convinced that their particular mission trumped everyone
else's. If her driver worked in another city, say St. Louis
or Abilene, she felt certain he'd be far less disagreeable.
Audrey, on the other hand, just wanted to survive long
enough in New York to catch the tail of her dream.
Nearly out of money, and fast running out of steam, she
had just enough of both to carry her through Carly's
wedding in Atlanta. If she didn't score the job designing
Kim Renfroe's wedding dress by the time she returned,
Audrey would have to start thinking about throwing in the
towel. Perhaps she could rustle up a job working for one of
the other design houses. Her stab at venturing out on her
own hadn't been the starship success she'd been convinced
that it would be.
Two years and three months.
That's how long it had taken her to run through the
inheri- tance Granny Beatrice had left her. Twenty-
seven months, almost to the day. When she'd left Atlanta
for New York, she had such high hopes of making a name for
herself as a designer. Marginal successes along the way had
not contributed much toward soaring, only toward staying
afloat. And even that was in jeopardy now.
Audrey nibbled on the corner of her lip as she stared at
the scenery beyond the sedan window. A mist of emotion rose
in her eyes, blurring the passing cars. She really needed
to figure out a way to tell Kat that she wouldn't be able
to pay her much longer.
She wondered if Carly knew how much it cost her to drop
everything and head home for a week, not to mention all the
time and resources she'd spent on designing and
creating Carly's dream bridal gown. By the time the Atlanta
trip came to a close, she would find herself up against the
final wall. She would say good-bye to Kat, convert her
design studio on the other side of her apartment into a
living space, and advertise for a roommate. Then she would
go begging for a job with low pay and long hours in support
of someone else's design reverie.
Unless Kim Renfroe chose to wear an Audrey Regan origi-
nal for her spring wedding; in that case, the air in the
tires of her dream would carry her on a little farther. Not
much, but a little.
"You gonna answer that, Princess?" "What?"
"Your cell phone. It sounds like God is calling."
The jingle of her harp-phone nudged her as she wiped a
tear from her cheek. "Oh. I didn't hear it."
She pulled the phone from her purse and fumbled with it.
Finally, she heard Kat's muffled voice, and she held the
thing up to her face.
"Audrey? I'm just checking on you. Audrey, are you
there?" She held the phone like a walkie-talkie she'd seen
the night before in a late-night rerun of Star Trek. "Yes,
I'm here, Scotty. Now either beam me up or quit bothering
me. And Kat? Can
you change the ring? Apparently, it sounds like God." "I
can't change the ringtone remotely, but—"
"I have to go now, Scotty. But only use this thing in an
emer- gency, okay? It's annoying."
"Here we are. Terminal three."
She blinked, and a lone remnant of a tear wound its way
down the curve of her face and dropped off her chin.
Brushing its path dry with the back of her hand, she tossed
the cell phone into her bag and inhaled sharply before
cranking open the door and stepping out.
J. R. pulled off the black helmet, instinctively running
a hand through his mane of shaggy brown hair, shaking it
out. He glanced down at the CL Max helmet and noticed a
tiny nick in the polycarbonate shell.
He unzipped the cuffs of his leather jacket and pulled
off his gloves.
I paid a hundred and fifty bucks for this helmet just so
this wouldn't happen.
He paused to tuck the helmet between his knees while he
pulled off his gloves and stuffed his gloves into the
pocket of his leather jacket. He took another close look at
the nick, then ran his hand over the flip-up shield before
fitting the helmet under his arm and stalking through the
brass-plated glass door of The Tanglewood Inn.
His brother Devon had called him early that morning to
ask him to come straight to The Tanglewood rather than meet-
ing up at the house, and J. R. had been glad for the
change in plans. He hadn't been back in Atlanta for a while
now, but he looked forward to catching up with the people
he'd met there on his last pass-through with Russell.
Carly saw him first, and she hopped to her feet and
rushed toward the entrance of the restaurant. With her
honey-blonde hair pulled into a messy little bun at the
back of her head and her glistening blue eyes dancing, his
brother's fresh-faced bride curled her arms around his neck
and placed several kisses on his cheek.
"I'm so happy you've arrived safely!" she
exclaimed. "You and that motorcycle of yours—well, we
just never stop worry- ing. Devon has been itching to see
you!" She looped her arm through his and led him inside.
It struck him as funny that Devon and Carly worried
about him riding his Harley when there had been so many
more pertinent safety concerns with which to concern
themselves.
J. R. had to admit that relief over someone returning to
Atlanta in one piece was something he knew all too well. He
hadn't seen his little brother since before he left for his
last tour of duty, his second in Afghanistan in just three
years.
Devon, the same old twinkle in his eye, stood up as he
approached the table. As J. R. drew his brother into an
embrace, he exhaled for what felt like the first time in
months. Relief washed over him, and he smacked Devon's back
twice. "Good to see you, bro."
"Good to be seen."
Truer words had never been spoken, and J. R. sent up a
quick prayer of thanks for the fact that his brother had
come home from war virtually unscathed. Physically, anyway.
"Thanks for doing this, man."
J. R. chuckled. "There's no one else going to be your
best man."
"J. R., I want you to meet my wedding planner, Sherilyn
Drummond," Carly said.
Her familiar laughter took the form of music, and J. R.
rounded the table and took a much smaller Sherilyn than he
remembered into his arms.
"Oh, of course! You two have met." "How's Dr. Andy?" he
asked her.
"Wonderful," she sang. "You have to come to the house
while you're in town. We'd love to have you over, maybe
after these two leave for their honeymoon."
"Sounds like a plan. Maybe we'll get a good snowstorm
out of season so we can barbecue."
Sherilyn's turquoise blue eyes glistened and her
laughter warmed him to his soul. She tossed her copper hair
over her shoulder before she sat down again.
"You look amazing," he told her.
"Doesn't she though?" Carly added. "She's lost
forty pounds!"
"Forty-eight," Sherilyn corrected with a grin. "But no
one's counting."
"Well, you were already a stunner, but—"
His words were sliced in two by the high-pitched shriek
Carly released, and everyone's attention followed her as
she raced from the table and into the arms of . . . a
knockout!
The platinum blonde pin-up girl had curves that pushed
the boundaries of her straight skirt. A thick leather lace-
up belt cinched her small waist, and the thin fabric of the
ruffled blouse tried—and failed—to camouflage
all that God Himself had endowed.
"Who is that?" J. R. whispered to Devon. "That's Audrey."
J. R. had heard the name often, but it had passed with-
out much notice. If only he'd realized the embodiment of
two simple syllables looked like this—
"Come and meet everyone!" Carly cried. As she dragged
the vision toward them, J. R.'s own pulse began to thump in
his ears. "Audrey Regan," she announced. "This is Sherilyn
Drummond, my wedding planner."
"It's such a pleasure!" Sherilyn told her. "I love your
designs."
"You know them?" Audrey asked with a chuckle.
"I saw your runway show at the bridal expo in Chicago
last year. You're a genius with beading and tulle."
Audrey grabbed Sherilyn's hand and shook it vigorously.
Tossing a cute little glance back at Carly, she wrinkled
her turned-up nose and added, "I like her."
J. R. couldn't take his eyes off Audrey. Carly
giggled. "And you know Dev."
Audrey planted a kiss on Devon's lucky cheek while J. R.
took a deep breath and pulled himself together.
"And this is Devon's brother, J. R." "Hi, J. R."
He had no idea what he said in reply, only that the pin-
up's light brown eyes reminded him suddenly of a sugar
crumble on top of a tart apple crisp.
"Let's all sit down and order some lunch," Carly
suggested. "And then the ladies can go upstairs to the
suite and admire my dress!"
Audrey felt a surge of blessed reprieve as she, Carly,
and Sherilyn left the restaurant. Devon's brother made her
uncom- fortable the way he kept gawking at her. Did he
think she hadn't noticed? While everyone else focused on
the conversation and the marvelous food, J. R. Hunt had
fixated unapologetically on every move Audrey made. At one
point, she'd dabbed the corner of her mouth with the linen
napkin, thinking perhaps a forkful of spinach salad had
missed its mark. When he wasn't deterred, she compulsively
ran her tongue over her front teeth in hopes of dislodging
some stray piece of food that might have held the guy's
attention in a vice grip.
"I think J. R. was quite taken with you," Carly said as
they rode the glass-enclosed elevator up to the second
floor.
"I noticed that too," Sherilyn added. "Please."
"Aud, J. R. is a catch!" She groaned. "Please!"
"No, she's right," Sherilyn told her. "He's a wonderful
guy." "Did you put her up to this?" Audrey asked
Carly. "Because this is not what I'm here for."
Carly sighed, exchanging a look with Sherilyn that
irritated Audrey to no end. She was always doing that.
Since the time they were in the first grade together,
Caroline Madison could push Audrey's buttons like no one
else. And yet somehow they'd managed to remain best friends
from then to now. Over the years, she'd come to equate it
with sibling rivalry.
The bridal suite at The Tanglewood Inn, tucked behind
double oak doors with large brass handles, smelled sweetly
inviting. Fragrant bouquets of roses and hydrangea in low
crystal vases graced the round claw-footed dining table as
well as the oval coffee table in front of the green
chenille sofa. A large arch with a sliding door of etched
glass ushered the way into the adjacent room. A
breathtaking king bed draped with a sheer violet canopy
hugged the corner of the room at an angle, set against
muted moss-green walls and flanked by antique nightstands
with crystal knobs. The bellman had left Audrey's luggage
against the foot of the bed in a neat little line.
"Good grief," Audrey said with a sigh. "This is lovely."
"Isn't it?" Carly cried. "I know we're already
technically married—and don't tell Devon
this—but this room is why I convinced him that we
should live apart again for three days before the wedding.
Isn't it exquisite? And we're going to have so much fun
here until then. It'll be like living in Barbie's Dream
House for two days!"
Audrey chuckled; such a Carly thing to say.
"You sit down out here," she told Audrey, her finger wig-
gling toward the sofa. "Sherilyn will help me get into the
dress, and I'll make an entrance."
"Shouldn't Sherilyn sit out here?" Audrey asked with a
grin. "I mean, I've seen the dress."
"Oh, so has Sherilyn!"
Sherilyn nodded, one side of her mouth turning upward in
a lopsided grin. "Three times already."
"Besides, I made some additions. I want to spring it on
you!"
"Additions?"
"So just sit down—"
"You changed the dress?"
"—and I'll go put it on for you
and—" "Caroline! You changed the dress?"
"Not really changed it. Just . . . enhanced it."
The horror rose slowly, like a pot coming to a boil on
the stove. Leave it to Carly to have the audacity to revamp
the wed- ding dress Audrey had designed! Her eyes darted to
Sherilyn, and the pretty redhead shook her head
reassuringly.
"It's okay," she mouthed. "Really. It's okay."
"Just sit down and make yourself comfortable," Carly
told her. "There are drinks in the mini-fridge. And I'll be
out in two shakes."
Resisting the urge to press her nose against the glass
door standing between them, Audrey stalked to the window
and looked out over a stunning brick courtyard.
Enhanced it. She enhanced it.
Audrey slowly paced back and forth along the length of
the large window, breathing deeply and exhaling in
controlled little bursts as she recounted myriad
enhancements Carly had made to Barbie doll gowns and one-of-
a-kind prom dresses over the years.
"Please, oh please," Carly had begged the night she
called to tell Audrey that she and Devon were getting
married again. "We were so rushed the first time around,
but we really want to have the big formal wedding, so we're
going to start plan- ning it now. You just have to design
my wedding dress, Aud. You have to! We're more like sisters
than best friends, aren't we? How could I walk into a
bridal shop and buy someone else's design to wear on the
most important day of my life? Will you do it? Please?"
All of Audrey's alarm bells had sounded in those seconds
between the request and her reply, but she'd ignored them.
"Of course I will."
It's my own fault, after all, isn't it? She's probably
cut off the sleeves and used the fabric to make a longer
train, just like she did to Barbie's gown when she married
Ken on Granny's sun porch when we were kids!
"Are you ready?" Carly called out from the bedroom.
"Not at all," Audrey replied dryly. "But come on out.
Let me have a look at what you've done."
Sherilyn slid open the glass door and emerged first,
rush- ing tentatively to Audrey's side while Carly used
both hands to beat out a drumroll against the wall.
"Ready?"
"Get out here!"
And then there she was, wide-eyed and hopeful, standing
before Audrey.
"Well?"
Audrey blinked, and instinctively smacked her hand over
her mouth with a gasp. "Caroline Madison!" she managed
between her fingers.
Audrey needed to sit. Fortunately, Sherilyn pushed a
chair underneath her before she went down.
"It's okay, isn't it, Aud? You don't mind?"
"Are you all right?" Sherilyn whispered. "Can I get you
some water?"
"Audrey, say something."
Audrey leaned back against the chair, cocked her head,
and pressed her lips together for a moment before bursting
into tears.
"Audrey?" Carly exclaimed. "Is that a good cry, or a bad
cry?"
Audrey pulled several tissues from the box that Sherilyn
extended to her and dried her eyes with one of them. She
hadn't even thought of the veils in years! But there stood
Carly, in the bridal gown Audrey had made just for her, and
the elbow-length wedding veil Granny had given Carly as a
gift on their high school graduation.
"Aud?"
"Sorry. It's a good cry."
"Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to be upset
with me for wearing your granny's lace."
"Upset?" she repeated, and she blew her
nose. "I'm overcome."
"Audrey and I used to stage these elaborate weddings for
our Barbies," Carly explained to Sherilyn. "I would style
the ceremony with flowers and candles, and Audrey would
make the wedding gowns."
"Of course," Sherilyn added with a grin.
"Of course," Carly repeated. "And her granny used this
little
. . . What was it, Aud?" "Tatting tool."
"Right, a tatting tool to make these intricate,
exquisite lace veils for our brides. We begged her to make
life-sized ones for us to wear when we played dress-up,
never realizing of course what it would take, or the level
of skill and effort involved
. . . But before she died, she presented both of us with
these beautiful wedding veils." Carly took an edge of the
veil care- fully into her hand and showed it to
Sherilyn. "She did her thing with tatting to create the
designs for the edging, and she appliquéd it to the fabric.
Isn't it beautiful?"
"Exquisite," Sherilyn replied as she examined
it. "Nottingham," Audrey sniffled.
"Sorry. What?"
"The fabric. It's Scottish Nottingham lace."
"Oh. Well, you should see Audrey's!" Carly cried. "She
and her granny added crystals and beads to it, and it
turned out so pretty. You looked like a queen in that veil.
Do you still have it?"
"Of course," she answered with a smile. "I haven't
thought of it in years. I'd almost forgotten about it
until—" Her voice trailed off to silence, and Audrey
sighed.
Carly had attached the veil to a stunning rhinestone
tiara. With her hair twisted upward and piled on the top
of her head, she looked like a regal, all-American
princess. Audrey thought it sort of remarkable that the
veil seemed to match the dress perfectly, even though she
hadn't thought of it when she sketched out the designs for
Carly's empire-waist organza ball gown.
"Carly, you look exquisite," she told her friend, a mist
of emotion clouding her thoughts. "The veil makes it
perfect. You look just like the princess you always wanted
to be when you got married."
"I thought it looked sublime with the dress, like it was
just meant to be. And did you recognize my mom's pearls?"
she asked, fingering the three-strand choker.
"Is that your mom's?" Audrey moved toward her for a
closer look.
"Audrey and I used to play dress-up," Carly said.
"A lot," Audrey added. "Carly's mom is so glamorous, and
she had all this amazing jewelry."
"Yeah, my mom does love her bling."
"You two remind me so much of Emma and me," Sherilyn
told them. "We've been friends forever too."
"Emma works here," Carly chimed in. "She's making my
wedding cake. You'll meet her tomorrow night at the Jack-
and-Jill."
"At the what?"
"You tell her, Sherilyn. I'm going to get out of my
dress before I cry all over it. It's bad luck for a bride
to shed tears on her dress. Wait. Or is it good luck?"
"Do you need help?" Sherilyn asked her.
"Are you kidding? I'm becoming an expert at getting in
and out of this thing. I've probably tried it on ten times
since it arrived."
"Well, at least let me unclasp the buttons for you."
Once Carly stepped into the bedroom, Sherilyn and Audrey
sat down at the round table with a couple of bottles of
water.
"Carly said she didn't want the traditional bachelorette
fes- tivities, and Devon didn't want a bachelor party, so
they decided to combine things," Sherilyn
explained. "They've rented out a place called Happy Days
over in Sandy Springs. It's a fifties diner with a bowling
alley, a karaoke lounge, and great old drive-in food."
"Aside from the karaoke, it sounds like fun."
"It is. My husband and I teach Sunday school to the
teenag- ers at our church, and we took them there once. We
had a ball! Everyone has to go in costume."
"Costume?" Audrey scowled.
"From the fifties. When we went, I wore this great
poodle skirt I found at a vintage shop."
"She should have told me. I don't have anything like
that with me," she said.
"We've got you covered. Tomorrow, a group of us from the
hotel are taking you and Carly for a morning at the spa.
One of the people joining us is our friend Fee, and we're
going to her place afterward to raid her closet. She'll
have a ton of stuff to choose from."
"Just hanging in her closet," Audrey clarified.
"You'll have to meet Fee to understand, but she's
very . . . unique."
"After my own heart. I can't wait."
"It's going to be so much fun," Carly said as she joined
them at the table and twisted the cap off a soda. "I can't
wait for you to meet everyone here. We've all become very
fast friends."
"Sounds like it."
"Oh, I wish you still lived here in Atlanta, Aud."
She wished Carly knew that New York had been such a dis-
appointment to her. However, she saw no good coming from
admitting that out loud. Things could still work out
somehow, couldn't they?
"Hey, do you want to see where we're holding the
ceremony and reception?"
"Sure."
"Let's take a walk. And maybe Emma's in the kitchen.
You're going to love her."
Carly had brushed her hair loose again and wore skinny
jeans and a floral blouse with butterfly sleeves.
"Sherilyn told you all about the Jack-and-Jill?"
Audrey nodded. It didn't exactly feel like Audrey's cup
of tea, but if dressing up and drinking a milkshake was how
her childhood friend wanted Audrey to spend the night
before her big wedding, who was she to play Party Pooper?
Sure, she'd don a poodle skirt and bobby socks. But she
vowed to draw the line at black and white saddle oxfords.
Jack-n-Jill went up the hill to shout, "I love you
madly!" Jack, he bowled, and Jill rock-n-rolled, and all
their friends sang badly.
Join us for a Jack-and-Jill bachelor/bachelorette party
the night before our wedding.
There will be bowling, dancing, great food,
and——YES, FRIENDS—— there will be
karaoke!
Happy Days in Sandy Springs
Friday night at 7:00
It's a 1950s sock-hop theme, folks, so everyone should
come in costume!
Dig out your saddle shoes and grease up your pompadours.
BE THERE OR BE SQUARE!
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