Buried In Buttercream

nibbled a dry, tasteless, pastry thingamajig that Madeline called a Belgian roulade.
    At only fifteen dollars each, they were a real steal, and it was Madeline’s sincere opinion that Savannah should serve them at her reception.
    Oh, yes, Savannah thought. Macon can put away at least a dozen of these. Twelve times fifteen. For a mere one hundred and eighty dollars, we can fill one Reid sweet tooth. Woo-hoo! What a bargain!
    “And what will you be wearing?” Madeline was asking her. “A tasteful silk suit, perhaps, or—”
    “Some sort of white wedding gown,” Savannah said. “Not as nice as the one that burned, obviously, but as close as I can come.”
    From what Savannah could tell, considering that Madeline was wearing extremely oversized designer sunglasses, the wedding planner looked appalled. “Really? White?” She glanced quickly up and down Savannah’s figure, which was without a doubt considerably more ... ample ... than her own teeny-tiny bod. “White isn’t exactly ... slenderizing. And a lot of women who are ... you know ... closer to our age, opt for something simpler, more chic, and leave the traditional gowns to the young girls.”
    Savannah flashed back to a day, two months ago, when she had mentioned to Dirk that she was considering buying a sapphire silk dress for the wedding. His face had fallen, but he had quickly covered his disappointment with a fake smile and said, “Oh ... okay. Wear whatever you want, sweetheart. It’s your day.”
    “Did you want me to wear a wedding gown?” she’d asked him.
    “Well, I guess I thought you would. I sorta pictured you in one, walking toward me, but ... you know, whatever you want is fine with me.”
    She had decided then and there to give herself permission to wear the gown that every little girl dreams of. For herself and for her groom. After all, didn’t that poor child she had been in McGill, Georgia, who’d practiced walking down the aisle wearing her grandmother’s pillowcase on her head, deserve to be a princess for a day?
    “No. I choose to wear a wedding gown,” Savannah told Madeline Aberson with a smile that didn’t light her blue eyes.
    “But, as I said—”
    “No. I said, no. And that ends that particular topic of conversation. What’s next?”
    Madeline sat, stone still, for an uncomfortably long time as Savannah watched and tried to determine if she was even breathing. It seemed she’d suffered a shock to her system. Apparently, the word no wasn’t uttered frequently in her presence.
    At last, she patted her perfect ash-blond pageboy, adjusted her boucle tweed jacket, pursed her perfectly glossed lips, and said, “Oookay. Let’s discuss flowers. Beautiful flowers, plenty of them, are the heart and soul of any great occasion. My personal favorites are lilies and cherry blossoms. Although orchids are always elegant.”
    “I can’t afford orchids. My flower budget is gone. I’ll be raiding my garden. I have roses and hydrangeas and the lilacs are in bloom. I’ve always loved lilacs. They’re my grandmother’s favorite.”
    “Okay.”
    Madeline reached into her quilted leather, designer handbag and pulled out a small notebook. She made quite a show of opening it and scanning a list. “Hmmm ... let’s see now. Attire—can’t be swayed on that. Flowers—fresh from the backyard garden.”
    Her lips puckered even tighter, as though she were sucking on an under-ripe persimmon. “Candles ... I can get you some delicious soy blend candles that are to die for.”
    “My sister, Alma, has that covered. She made some cute votives with tea lights in them. Tied a bow around them and hot glued a silk flower on each one. They burned in the fire, but we can afford to do them again. They didn’t cost much.”
    “No, I don’t suppose they did. Got them at the dollar store, did we?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, we did.”
    Madeline glanced down at her list, drew a deep breath, and said, “Photographer?”
    “We’re passing out those disposable cameras. Get lots of candid shots that way.”
    “Oh, yes. Amateur photography. That’s always the best way to go. How about food?”
    “I’m going to bake a big carrot cake with lots of cream cheese frosting and, as luck would have it, I’ve got a plastic bride and groom to stick on top.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Granny’ll make up some of her famous punch, and I can probably get my sisters to put together some mint and nut cups. Maybe we’ll crank up some homemade