“It’s not uh-oh. Very much,” Parker qualified.
“I don’t have time for not very much. I have to make a zillion crystallized baby roses and Johnny-jump-ups.”
“You can get it set up while I’m dealing with the tea.”
Useless to protest, Laurel thought and got out her wire racks and baking pans, her bowls, her ingredients.
“Mia Stowe, January bride?” Parker began.
“Big, fat Greek wedding,” Mac commented. “The MOB’s Greek, and her parents still live there. They’re after a big, wild, traditional Greek deal.”
“Right, exactly. Good. It seems the grandparents have decided—impulsively—to visit. Grandmother wants to check on some of the wedding plans, since apparently she’s never completely forgiven her son-in-law for taking her daughter to the U.S., and lacks confidence that we—or anyone—can pull off the kind of wedding she wants.”
“The grandmother wants,” Laurel said as she got the edible flowers Emma had provided out of the cooler.
“Again, exactly. MOB is in a panic. Bride is scrambling. Grandmother is demanding an engagement party—and yes, they’ve been engaged for six months, but this doesn’t deter Grandmother.”