“Yeah. He’s probably kicked back with a beer now, but I’m trying not to resent that. It’s okay because in a hundred and ninety-eight minutes, give or take a few, we’ll be there, too. Damn, we have to change—add twenty more minutes. Two hundred and eighteen—”

“Seventeen,” Emma interrupted. “Not that we’re watching the clock or anything.”

“We’ll be sipping those margaritas, and our biggest worry will be what to have for dinner.” She gave Parker’s arm a pinch when Parker walked over.

“Ow.”

“Just making sure none of us are dreaming. We’re having a private countdown. Two hundred and seventeen minutes till margaritas on the beach.”

“Two hundred and seventy-seven. They just asked for the extra hour.”

Emma’s big brown eyes went sad as a hungry puppy’s. “Oh, Parker.”

“I know, I know. But it’s their option, their money, and we can’t say no.”

“There could be a bomb threat by an anonymous caller. Just a suggestion,” Laurel said when Parker gave her a bland stare. “I’m going to start transferring the gifts to the limo. It’ll pass the time. If you need me, beep me.”

It kept her busy, supervising the transfer, carting gifts out herself. Afterward, she made a trip up to the Bride’s and Groom’s suites to make sure they’d been put to rights, then headed down to her kitchen for the boxes needed for leftover cake and desserts.

“Two hundred and twenty-nine minutes,” she told herself.

At six sharp, she stood with her partners, with Jack and Carter, waving off the newlyweds and the stragglers.

“Go away now,” she said under her breath. “Bye-bye. Keep driving.”

“Somebody out there might read lips,” Jack commented.

“Don’t care.” But she gripped his arm and angled herself slightly behind him. “Go home. Go away. Okay, there’s the last ones. Why are they standing there talking? They’ve had hours to talk already. Yes, yes, hug, hug, kiss, kiss, go, for pity’s sake.”

“They’re getting in their cars,” Mac said from behind her. “It’s happening. Starting the cars, backing out. And they’re driving, they’re driving.” She clamped her hands on Laurel’s shoulders. “Almost to the road, almost there, nearly clear, and ...Yes!”

“Vacation!” Laurel shouted. “Everybody scatter, get your stuff.” She dashed inside and up the stairs.

Within fifteen minutes, dressed in cropped pants, a tank, a straw hat on her head and sandals on her feet, she dragged her bags downstairs. Then frowned at Parker.

“How could you be faster than me? How could you? I was like the wind. I was a freaking tornado of speed and efficiency.”

“My talents are many. I’ll bring the car around.”

Mrs. Grady wandered out while they loaded up, and put an insulated bag in the car. “Road supplies,” she said. “Cold water, some fruit, cheese, and crackers.”