They both turned to Burkus, and he sank into one of the chairs at the corner of the desk. "He's had two DUIs in as many months," he said, ma.s.saging his forehead so hard that it turned pale yellow beneath his fingers. "He was a rough sell for the producers to insure him, but they did so with the promise that he'd stay sober for the length of the movie. Which he did."

"Let me guess," Andy surmised. "The movie wrapped-"

"Last night," Burkus confirmed. "If he's arrested, he's almost certainly going to do jail time."

"Was anyone hurt at the scene of the accident?" Andy asked.

"I don't think so. Danielle was with him, and she thinks that both cars-"

"Both?"

"-were parked. But he took out the corner of a store as well."

"A store?"

"Near downtown Roswell. She checked him into the nearest hotel, which happened to be-" He pointed at Jackson.

"The Tanglewood."

"Yes. She called me, and I called Betty Ford."

"The rehab center," Andy clarified with a nod. "Good."

"I think if he checks himself into rehab before he's arrested, we may be able to squeeze him out of the noose."

Andy felt almost certain that the noose around Russell Walker's neck was already pulled far too tight for any sort of escape.

"He's been involved in a hit-and-run. You can't just hide him, Mr. Burkus. We need to call the police and let them decide how best to proceed. Rehab is clearly needed here, but I think the law comes first."

"I told you, we can't do that! But once I have him safely checked into rehab, I'll go to the police myself and tell them the whole story."

Andy looked to Jackson for help.

"Meanwhile, we can't take any chances. No one can know about this, or those paparazzi will be all over him. He'll be like Lindsay Lohan at the airport."

Andy didn't completely understand the reference but, exasperated, he heaved out a sigh. "When can he check in to Betty Ford?"

"The only one of the clinics that can take him is the one in Texas," Burkus explained. "But not for another two weeks. Russell doesn't have two weeks."

"Well, we're not hiding him out for two weeks," Jackson interjected.

"What about something local?" Andy asked.

"I have a buddy who does some work at the Atlanta Treatment Clinic," Jackson told them. "I can give him a call."

Burkus rubbed his forehead in angst-throttled silence.

"Make the call," Andy answered for him. "I'm going to check on our patient."

Two hours later, Andy helped Sean smuggle a sobering Russell Walker out the back door of the clinic and into a waiting car. Using the staff entrance and a freight elevator, they were able to deliver him to his room at The Tanglewood without further incident. All against Andy's better judgment, of course.

By the time Walker was settled and sleeping, Jackson met up with them in the room, with Sherilyn, Emma, and Fee at his side.

"Two days," he told Burkus forcefully. "The clinic can admit him in two days. Meanwhile, Sean will stand guard at that door 24/7. He is not to go anywhere in this hotel, is that clear?"

Burkus nodded tentatively.

"These are the only three employees who know that he's here aside from myself and my sister. All of his food, towels, and linens will be brought up by one of them."

Burkus nodded at the women. "Thank you."

"But just one peep out of your boy there, just one more escape by balcony, one stroll down the hallway, one more deafening chorus of an Australian folk song, and he won't have time to make it out the front door before the police arrive to pick him up. I hope that's clear."

"Yes."

"I've got you booked into the room next door. And I'm holding you completely responsible. You and Sean aren't to leave his side until you drop him off for treatment."

"All right."

Without another word, Jackson turned away. With one hand on Fee's shoulder and the other at the small of Emma's back, he guided them out of the room.

Sherilyn stood by the armoire in silence. When Andy's eyes met hers and she arched one eyebrow at him, he almost felt like laughing.

"I'll be back to check on him at the end of the day," he told Burkus before he led Sherilyn out the door. Once he closed it, Andy turned to Sean, the other member of Russell's entourage now posted like an armed sentry. "You've certainly got your hands full."

With a glimmer in his eye, Sean sighed and answered, "Yes, sir."

"Good luck with that."

"Thank you, sir."

A few yards down the hall and a quick right toward the elevator, and Andy poked the call b.u.t.ton.

"This place is a zoo. What have we gotten into?" he whispered, and Sherilyn stifled her snickers.

"I'm sure there's a flight back to Chicago within the hour," she offered.

"I think we should be on it."

The Wedding Planner's Ultimate Bridal Checklist Part II 3-6 Months Before the Wedding: Wedding Planner: ___ Nail down the menu ___ Choose and book the photographer ___ Choose and book the videographer ___ Finalize the wedding party ___ Provide each member of the wedding party with a detailed list of his or her responsibilities ___ Select and purchase/rent attire for bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girl, ring bearer ___ Select and book the music for the ceremony and reception ___ Select and meet with the florist ___ Finalize bride's floral choices ___ Finalize bridal registry Bride: ___ FIND THE DRESS!.

9.

Too frou-frou."

"Okay. How about this one?"

"Looks like a pile of meringue."

"And this one?"

"Are you serious? You can't be serious."

Emma stepped back from the rack, her hand on her hip.

"Sherilyn. Why don't you tell me what you are looking for."

"Nothing I see here."

"Dude!" Fee exclaimed, and they turned around to find her collapsed in a chair, her head tilted backward. "What have you got against wedding dresses?"

"Nothing," she said with a sigh.

"Then what have you got against us? Give us a clue, huh? What do you want?"

Sherilyn dropped to the chair next to Fee. "What about you? You're engaged. Why aren't we looking for a dress for you?"

Fee curled up her face slightly and shrugged. Lifting her ringless hand, she wiggled her fingers at the both of them.

"Fee and Peter broke up last night."

"What?!" Sherilyn gasped. "Oh, Fee? Are you all right?"

Fee nodded. "It's been coming for a while."

Sherilyn looked to Emma, and she nodded knowingly.

"What . . . happened?"

"Well, that's the deal," Fee told her. "Nothing happened. Even though we get along great, and I adore the guy, I guess I just realized it wasn't enough for wedding bells."

"No?" Sherilyn asked softly, and Fee shook her head.

"I don't know if I'm capable of the whole fireworks kind of thing," she admitted. "But I'd like to hold out a while and see."

"I'm so sorry," Sherilyn said, and she rubbed Fee's hand.

"It's all good," Fee told them. "Let's get back to the business at hand. Unlike me, you, my friend, have fireworks with your guy. Let's find you a wedding dress, huh?"

Sherilyn looked up at Emma standing over her. "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm just not feeling any of them."

"What would you feel then?" Emma asked her, and she caressed her shoulder sweetly. "What does your perfect wedding dress look like?"

"Nothing with a train," she stated with conviction. "We want a small, intimate wedding, so I was thinking something floor length, or tea length even. Simple, elegant, and just a little . . . I don't know . . . extraordinary. Like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie, only a dozen sizes larger."

"Stop it."

"Well, I'm not a size six anymore," she admitted. "On a really good day, I'm a twelve. Which, in wedding designer speak, is like a twenty."

"Not all designers," Fee a.s.sured her.

"What else?" Emma asked.

"I don't want anything strapless or with teeny little spaghetti straps. I need a sleeve, even if it's just a cap. Or a thicker one, like this." She used her fingers to draw out a wide tank strap pattern on her shoulder. "I have these pockets of fat right here." She punctuated the point by pinching an inch of flesh just beneath her shoulder.

"When did this happen to you?"

"I don't know. I've always been able to eat what I wanted, but one day I just started-"

"No," Emma stopped her. "I mean, your self-esteem."

"Oh."

Sherilyn fell silent and set about examining the toe of her shoe.

"It's just that . . ." she said in a raspy splinter of a whisper, "sometimes I wonder . . . you know . . . how someone like Andy . . . can . . ."

"Sherilyn, no."

"I can't help it, Em. How did I score someone like him?"

"Dude," Fee interjected in monotone. "Get over yourself. You're a catch."

Sherilyn couldn't help herself, and the laughter burst out of her. When Emma leaned over and hugged her, she reached out and included Fee in the embrace as well.

"I love you guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Fee sang. "Now let's find your dress. It's in here somewhere."

"Yes. But where?"

"I think I might know."

The three of them glanced up in tandem. The clerk stood over them, smiling.

"I heard part of your conversation, and when you described the dress you're looking for, it occurred to me that you might not know we have a vintage section upstairs. And there's a dress up there that I really think will suit you to a tee."

Emma jumped to her feet hopefully. "Will you show us?"

She took Sherilyn by the wrist, and they filed up the stairs behind the young woman whose nametag dubbed her Sarah.

When they reached the top landing, Sarah turned back to them and smiled at Sherilyn.