A Vineyard Wedding

by Katie Winters

  A Vineyard Wedding

  The Vineyard Sunset Series

  By

  Katie Winters

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Copyright © 2021 by Katie Winters

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Katie Winters holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Other Books by Katie

  Connect with Katie Winters

  Chapter One

  Susan Sheridan’s long-ago days at the law offices of Harris and Harris, back in Newark, New Jersey, had little to do with her current role as the head criminal defense attorney at the Sheridan Law Offices located in Oak Bluffs, on Martha’s Vineyard. For one: Richard Harris, her now-ex-husband, was no longer a dominating force, and she found that she liked to run a very different kind of ship — one that focused far more on compassion than on manipulation, volatility, and rage. She and Richard had been regarded as some of the best criminal defense attorneys on the east coast, but already, there in the newly-opened Sheridan Law Offices, Susan had crafted another reputation. “She has heart,” someone had described on a social media review. “Not that anyone who isn’t the daughter of Wes and Anna Sheridan wouldn’t have heart.”

  It thrilled Susan to work in law again; her pulse raced with excitement with each new case. Her eight or so months as the operating manager of the Sunrise Cove Inn had been beautiful. She’d manned the very desk her father and mother had shared all those years ago and watched with an earnest eye as Scott and other craftsmen had built the place back up to its former glory. But with the newly-hired Sam at the front desk, along with Natalie and the rest of the staff, the Sunrise Cove didn’t need Susan’s ever-watchful eye.

  Susan was allowed the best of both worlds: her beloved family and her second true love, law — a space where her creativity and attention to detail flourished. The fact that her daughter, Amanda, had wanted to join forces with her, even as she continued on at law school at Rutgers, thrilled her all the more. Perhaps they would operate as business partners for many years together. It was beyond her wildest dreams — especially as she had thought she would have to say goodbye to Amanda for “good” after her marriage to Chris.

  In a sense, Chris’s dastardly dash from the wedding altar was a blessing in hindsight. Although who in their right mind left a girl like Amanda? It stumped Susan to think about it.

  Susan stepped up from her desk and reached her arms over her head. Her mind buzzed with the events of the day. It had been a standard set of events which included a brief meeting with Jennifer Conrad, who had wanted to solidify a few of the legalities surrounding her social media management company, then a brief meeting with Claire and Russell, who had discussed the last-minute details of Russell’s case, which had found him accused of stealing a number of funds from the city of Oak Bluffs. The poor guy hadn’t known what to do with himself in the wake of those accusations.

  The foyer of the Sheridan Law Office was empty and echoing. “Amanda?” Susan tried as she furrowed her brow. Ordinarily, from this view, the top of Amanda’s perfectly shining head of beautiful hair hovered over the top of the foyer desk as she scribbled notes to herself. Susan stepped toward it and discovered one of Amanda’s classic to-do notes.

  1. Manage the files for the Casey case.

  2. Type the notes from yesterday’s meeting.

  3. Pilates???

  4. Ice cream with Sam.

  5. Wedding dress shopping with Mom!

  Ah! Of course. Susan beamed at the paper as she stepped back. Throughout the previous months, Amanda and the front desk manager at the Sunrise Cove had built a flourishing friendship. Light danced in Amanda’s eyes when he came up in conversation. Probably, it was still too soon after Amanda’s four-year relationship and failed engagement for her to fall into anything serious. Even still, Susan felt the buds of whatever was next for them; it was as though they operated under the belief that the future was theirs. They would simply enjoy the journey without rushing it.

  And oh yes. Susan had nearly forgotten that she’d agreed to meet Amanda, Christine, Lola, and Audrey at the wedding dress shop in Edgartown. She lifted her wrist to check the time and realized she only had a little over an hour before she needed to head out.

  There was a volatile creak from the door. Susan’s eyes lifted as a large man of maybe six feet five inches burst through the door. He wore all black — a black leather jacket, black jeans, and his hair was puffy and wild, with a huge patch on top where he’d lost some. It seemed he hadn’t smiled in maybe ten years. He looked to be around fifty, with crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes; his hardened frown suggested a great deal of stress and sadness. Susan had never seen him before.

  “Good afternoon! Did you have an appointment with us?” Susan knew for a fact that they didn’t have any more appointments for the day. Amanda wouldn’t have left before the last one.

  The man grunted. He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked at Susan with disdain. Susan had never felt in danger on the island, but this man sent a chill up and down her spine.

  “I can make an appointment for you later in the week,” Susan continued. “If you’d like. Just let me check the book—”

  “I don’t have an appointment,” the man grumbled. “But I need to speak with you. It’s extremely urgent.”

  Something about his voice stopped Susan in her tracks. She blinked up at him, aghast, then dropped her hands to her sides.

  “You are Susan Sheridan, correct?”

  Susan nodded. “I am.”

  “I’ve heard you’re the best criminal defense lawyer in the area. Not just on this godforsaken island. And I need your help.”

  There was an urgency behind the man’s voice; the light behind his eyes was dark green and strange. Susan ducked back and opened the door to her office even more. Fear wasn’t an option for her. In fact, in her many years of work in criminal defense, she’d sat across from murderers, thieves and other reckless criminals; she’d learned to deal with the fear and brush it aside.

  After all, Susan was often these criminals’ last hope at normal lives. Regardless if they had committed the crimes or not, regardless of the evil that lurked within their soul — she had to be a human for them. She couldn’t judge them. She could only use the law to serve them.

  “Please. Sit. Can I get you some water? A cup of coffee?”

  The man shook his head. He dropped down into the chair across from Susan and studied his hands, which were massive and covered with dark, thick hair. Susan waited in silence for the man to start speaking as it did no good for her to press him for information. He’d come for a reason, and he would soon reveal it.
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br />   “You’ve probably heard of my daughter,” he said finally. “Marcie Shean.”

  Something in the back of Susan’s mind rang like a bell. She clicked her pen and wrote the name out on a yellow pad of paper.

  “Marcie grew up here on the island. Like you. Like me,” the man continued. “But she left the island at age twenty to make a new life for herself up in Boston. We lost touch for a few years. We never had — well. We never had the best relationship, but she came back sometimes to see her younger brother. He’s still in high school. Their mom died in childbirth with our second, so she’s been gone a long time.”

  Susan’s heart dropped just the slightest bit. She did her best to maintain a stoic expression.

  “Marcie’s twenty-five, now. And I guess you must have heard what happened. Last November, up in Boston — well, her boyfriend, Vincent, died. Actually, he was murdered. Marcie is the one that found him, but apparently, there was evidence at the scene to suggest otherwise.” He said, palming the back of his neck.

  Susan had long since understood that parents took a tremendous toll when their children were accused of murder. It stood to reason. If Jake or Amanda had ever gotten into any trouble, she had always thought she could handle it, just as she’d handled everything else. But in all honesty, it touched on a dark part of her heart that made her not-so-sure.

  “Is she still up in Boston?” Susan asked.

  The father shook his head. “No. They allowed her to come home, to stay with me on house arrest.” He sniffed and smeared a finger beneath his nostrils. “Marcie and I don’t always see eye to eye, Ms. Sheridan, but I know she isn’t a murderer.”

  “You said the crime happened in November?”

  “But the trial starts up in two weeks,” the man continued. “I don’t know what to do about it. We had a lawyer all lined up— a damn good one out of Boston, but just last week, after all the jury had been selected and everything, he dropped Marcie’s file. He explained it was something to do with his wife and an illness. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is that we need a new lawyer now. And I hope that lawyer will be you.”

  Fascination made Susan’s heart swell. She squeezed her knee beneath the desk and pictured herself again in a large-scale court, fully prepared to represent a high-profile client, a woman who was wanted for the murder of her boyfriend. Of course, she had pity for the girl and for the boy’s family. But beyond that, she hadn’t been able to sink her teeth into a case like this in years.

  “I’ll need to meet with your daughter as soon as possible,” Susan told him, leaning into the desk. “If the trial is set to begin in two weeks, I don’t have much time to build a case.”

  The man’s eyes widened just the slightest bit. “Does this mean you’ll take us on?”

  Susan nodded as she lifted her pen again toward the pad of paper. “Can you give me the details for your previous lawyer? He’ll need to forward any and all case files to my office immediately.”

  The man drew his wallet out of his back pocket. The wallet seemed sticky; the cards within, which he dragged out onto the surface of her desk, seemed to have collected stains from various soda pops and spilled waters. Finally, he found the lawyer’s business card and placed it in front of Susan. The font was hardly legible as Susan could just barely make out the name and email address of the guy.

  “You don’t know what this means to us. To me,” the father said as he stood. Again, he looked overly tall for his body — as though he had been stretched beyond what was naturally allowed. He placed his wallet back in his pocket and blinked down at Susan.

  “I just need you to fill out a few forms for me, if that’s okay,” Susan said. “Email address, your phone number, your address— that kind of thing. It will give me the basics for my files.”

  The man nodded and accepted the clipboard, which he took out into the foyer. Probably, he wanted to avoid even more conversation with Susan.

  This was all the better for Susan, as she wanted to dive fully into the world of Marcie Shean and this heinous crime that she was being accused of. At this point, with very little information to go off of, Susan felt like a blind woman headed into a burning building. It thrilled her and terrified her at the same time.

  She knew one thing for sure: over the next few weeks, she would have a lot on her plate. Everything else would play second-fiddle.

  Chapter Two

  After Marcie’s father, Ralph, departed for the evening, Susan rapped her nails hurriedly over her keyboard and drew up the bright-eyed face of Marcie Shean — a truly beautiful blonde girl whose emerald eyes illuminated from the front page of the Boston newspaper back in November.

  BOSTON BEAUTY ACCUSED OF SLAYING BOYFRIEND

  In the photo, Marcie’s hands were latched behind her back as cops yanked her toward the cop car. She looked directly into the camera as though someone had just called her name. In a moment of weakness, or in thinking that the name-calling was friendly, she’d turned for solace. In return, she’d gotten only the flash of a camera.

  One of the articles came up with a description of what was currently known about the case. Susan placed her reading glasses on the tip of her nose and drew her face toward the screen. Outside, the light dimmed toward evening.

  Here is what Susan learned through this cursory read-through – knowing full well she would get a much better picture once Marcie’s previous lawyer got back to her:

  Marcie Shean and boyfriend Vincent Camden met three months after Marcie arrived in Boston, after her departure from Martha’s Vineyard at the age of twenty. They met when Marcie worked as a hostess at a high-scale restaurant, and Vincent worked as one of the bartenders. According to many eyewitnesses and colleagues, the pair was inseparable almost immediately. They moved in with one another approximately six months after their initial meeting into a house in South End, Boston, which was largely known as a dangerous neighborhood.

  The years after that cast Marcie and Vincent toward other jobs. Marcie had brief stints at universities but always dropped out due to money problems. According to many newspapers, Marcie kept her distance from her roots on Martha’s Vineyard, while Vincent had minor contact with his mother and father, who lived just outside of Boston, in Manchester-by-the-Sea, which was a very small town.

  According to several reports, Vincent’s parents had never really taken to Marcie. They thought she was too young for their son (only five years between the two), and they also blamed her for Vincent’s constant partying — which didn’t seem fair to Susan, as it seemed that Vincent had long since been involved in the party scene of Boston, especially since he’d worked as a bartender.

  According to several friends of the couple, Vincent and Marcie had recently had plenty of relationship troubles. Naturally, they hadn’t been able to afford any form of therapy, and they’d taken to screaming at one another with all the windows open. Even when the windows were closed, neighbors reported feeling fearful that the two might rip into one another. Of course, they’d said this only after the murder itself — which made it difficult to know what they’d actually thought during the fights themselves. Young couples fought, especially as they grew into themselves and tried to assess if this was the relationship they wanted for the rest of their days. Everyone knew that.

  According to Marcie’s reports, Marcie arrived home from a trip to the grocery store to find Vincent stabbed to death in their kitchen. It had been a complete surprise to her; it had ripped her two. She’d called 911 immediately and apparently when they had arrived, they’d found her fallen to the ground at Vincent’s side, holding him.

  But there were also fingerprints all over the murder weapon and those fingerprints belonged to Marcie Shean herself.

  Susan’s heart raced as she glanced back at this poor girl’s face. Did she have the capacity to do something like this? Susan had certainly worked with a number of female criminals. No, they didn’t normally look so angelic, but many of them had had feminine elements; they’d sang sweetly and
loved deeply and batted their eyelashes just so. Susan knew better than to trust a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Still, there on the front page of the newspaper, Susan saw a terrified girl — a girl who had lost someone she’d once loved in cold blood. Susan shook strangely with the adrenaline of it all.

  Suddenly, she realized that her office had dimmed to a strange grey. She yanked herself around to catch sight of the sun as it dropped toward the western end of Oak Bluffs. With a jolt, she grabbed her phone and found it filled with calls and messages, all from Amanda.

  AMANDA: Mom! Where are you!

  AMANDA: Pick! Up! Your! Phone!

  AMANDA: Nobody else is here, anyway. What is it with this family? Why am I the only one who arrives anywhere on time?

  Susan flung the phone to her ear as it rang twice. “Hey! Amanda!”

  “Mom! What happened? You’re twenty-five minutes late.”

  “I know. I’m running to the car right now. I’ll be there so fast that you won’t even notice.”

  Amanda groaned as Susan turned off the lights in the office and fled out into the soft light of an early evening in May. It had now been about a year since Susan had arrived on the island, and her stomach panged with nostalgia. When she’d first arrived, she couldn’t have imagined even a tenth of all that had happened.

  Now, she had built up her career again after leaving her old firm; she was engaged to marry the original love of her life and she was closer to her sisters and her father more than ever before. And this was all just the beginning.

  When Susan rushed into the Edgartown wedding dress shop, she found Amanda on the sofa, her brow furrowed. She stretched her arms out on either side of her and said, “See? Still, nobody here. I don’t know what you Sheridan girls think about other people’s time, but...”

  Susan groaned and tossed herself on the couch alongside Amanda. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but Mom. Look at this list.” Amanda yanked a pad of paper from her purse and waved it around. “It’s crazy the number of things we still have to get done for your wedding. You know, it’s only six weeks away?”