She returned her attention back to the invitations—all Christmas-themed. Not a surprise, given the season. She narrowed her selection down to one, then went in search of her mother. At the top of the stairs, she called for Belle, who made a frantic dash for the stairs, taking them two at a time, leaving Burt yapping in the basement.

She found her mother in the family room, sorting through a large plastic bin of Christmas decorations. Reggie feigned shock and disapproval.

“Mom! We haven’t had Thanksgiving yet. What are you doing?”

Her mother smiled. “Yes, this is me, violating the Wishing Tree code. Technically, I’m not decorating. I’m sorting.” She held up a Santa troll. “He’s looking shabby. Is it time to move him on to his reward?”

“Never. Mom, we have to have a Santa troll.”

Her mother frowned. “He really does need a bit of a spruce. I’ll take him downstairs and see what I can do. Did you pick an invitation?”

“I’ve sorted them in the order I like them, but these are your invitations. You have the final say.”

Reggie sat next to her mom on the sofa. Belle jumped up next to her, leaning heavily against Reggie and eyeing the stairs, as if waiting for Burt to appear. Reggie spread out the invitations, then tapped the one she liked best.

“It’s beautiful, it’s easy to read and it’s very much your style.”

Her mother picked up the sheet of paper, reading the text before studying the design. “I like it, too,” she said. “Let’s do this one.”

“That was easy.” Too easy, Reggie thought. Usually her mother liked to change her mind at least twice before coming to a decision.

“I like it, and we have to get them emailed to everyone. I sent a save-the-date card last month, but the invitations need to go out.”

“All right. This one it is.”

Her mother had already given her the email address file of all the guests, so sending out the invitations wouldn’t take long. A good thing, because at some point she had to get working on her project for Gizmo, not to mention the other work she’d brought with her.

“I’ve decided on the wedding favor.”

Reggie wrapped her arm around Belle and braced herself for the announcement.

“The soap?” she asked cautiously, thinking that would be a long process, considering none of them actually knew how to make soap.

“No, I want to give away Christmas cactus. I’ve ordered little custom pots that are just so sweet, along with several flats of Christmas cactus. You can transplant them for me.”

Reggie stared at her mother. “Is everyone getting a plant or is it one per couple?”

“One per couple. So only sixty or seventy.” Her mother patted her arm. “It won’t take you but a minute to get it all done.”