by Patti Larsen
Liz grinned at me and Crew, tossing her glossy dark ponytail over her shoulder as she winked at Dad. “You said something about scotch?”
Crew groaned and touched his stomach with a wince while I made a wry face at his former partner. But it was he who denied her, shaking his head.
“I think I’ll stop drinking forever,” he said while she eye rolled.
“You’re turning into a lightweight,” she cracked.
“It took three days to recover from the bachelor party,” he shot back.
“Like I said.” Liz laughed and, to his shock, hugged us both. “You two,” she said.
And now even the collected and superheroine FBI agent was choked up?
“Maybe I should have thrown you a party like that?” Leave it to Daisy to second guess. She’d invited Liz to my bachelorette, naturally, and the agent took delight in doing both. Mind you, we’d had manipedis and enjoyed much tamer entertainment than I’m sure Crew and Liz and his old FBI buddies engaged in (and I didn’t want to know about, thanks). Though, it had been funny to see my normally teetotaler mother tipsy on wine.
“It was perfect,” I said. “You’re the perfect maid of honor, Day.”
She beamed at me, fingers sliding over the bracelet at her wrist. Was she thinking ahead to her own future? If so, I hoped she’d invite me to return the favor and stand with her. My only sorrow? The fact Jill Wagner wasn’t in the official wedding party, though she’d brushed off my offer in favor of the small wedding I wanted in exchange for an invite to the soiree for her and Matt and a role reading a lovely poem she’d chosen for the occasion.
Like I’d be leaving them off the guest list. I really had so few true friends here in Reading, despite the fact everyone seemed to love the Fleming family. At least, in theory. Until I found a dead body and poked my nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
I had no illusions.
When I turned back toward Crew, the soft sound of his voice against my ear as he talked to Dad about the ceremony the next day, my gaze fell to the tattoo on his wrist. The compass, the center of which housed a skull and anchor at a jaunty angle, the symbol of his family as much as it was the Reading hoard. When I’d asked him for his list of invites to the wedding, he’d admitted that aside from Liz there was no one. I’d known that, I suppose, in hindsight. Though his mother was still alive, he’d declined to invite her. That left Crew and I did my best not to feel sorry for him.
He was about to become part of my family and we had more than enough room for him.
Liz touched my arm, drawing me away from my fiancé and toward the back door. I hugged her and she embraced me back but when she released me, her expression was all special agent and long gone from friend excited to see us married.
“Bad timing,” she said, “but I figured you’d want to know updates.”
And just like that Peggy Munroe crashed my party. I drew a breath, squared myself and nodded.
“Nothing bad,” she said, touching my arm. “In fact, nothing at all.” I wanted to exhale relief when she shrugged. “Could be a good sign, but whatever the case, it looks like you’ll at least be getting married without her showing up to ruin everything.” And, just like that, she gasped, both hands over her mouth, eyes huge and gaping and, for the first time since I’d met her, looked like she wished she’d learned to keep her mouth shut. “Fee, I didn’t mean, I’m sorry, it’s not going to—” That look of horror? I’d worn it a few times myself, though the way Liz reacted to what she’d blurted this was a first for her. “I’m so sorry.”
I laughed. Because, honestly, it was funny. “And I’m so glad he has you.” There were the waterworks all over again.
Liz swallowed hard, looked away, hands in her pockets. “Is that why I brought this up?” She met my eyes. “Because I’m uncomfortable with all this feely stuff?”
Snort. “You’re awesome and amazing and if you do decide to say yes to Dad,” he hadn’t mentioned the job offer in a bit, but I knew it hung over her, between them, still, “I’ll be super excited to have you here.”
Liz gaped at me a long moment before bursting into tears.
***
Chapter Five
By the time Crew joined us, Liz had pulled herself together, though he looked concerned enough she made an excuse, hurrying from the room when Jill and Matt arrived, creating the distraction she needed to escape. Likely to go check on her face. At least, that’s what I’d do, though she still looked stunning when she cried, unlike my redheaded blotchy extravaganza of awesomeness.
I’d stopped judging myself a long time ago.
Maybe I was being super sensitive—I’d been having that kind of day, after all—but was there something off about Jill? She seemed uncomfortable, awkward, even unhappy if I was going to go that far and I wondered instantly if she and Matt had a fight. Even took a moment to tug her aside and hug her before offering a raised eyebrow of worry.
“I’m fine,” she gushed when I hadn’t even asked a question yet, telling me, no, in fact, she wasn’t. She stepped away before I could prod her and I let her go, partly because it wasn’t my business and partly because I was afraid I knew what was bothering her.
She and Matt had been dating longer than me and Crew, hadn’t they? And there was no ring on her finger.
Sigh. Maybe I needed to talk to the clueless boy before he lost her.
Our last guests appeared in time to save Matt from that particular conversation. Crew and I made a point of greeting the final two together, fingers laced together, footsteps in time with one another. Thea Isaac, our local minister, beamed at us both as she entered Petunia’s, her tiny body shivering in delight—or the cold, maybe—as she hugged first Crew, then me. I caught the faintest hint of something truly horrific, a whiff of chemical awful that had me whipping my head around, wondering when someone spilled some cleaning agent, before realizing it was coming from the living room. Or was it? Whatever the case, I nodded to Thea’s step-daughter, Katelyn, who bobbed a nod back, though she was barely looking at me.
Thea handed over her coat to Crew when he held out his hands, taking the absent-minded twenty-something’s as well when she finally paid attention long enough to dump it into his possession. It was clear Katelyn and Thea weren’t related, the tiny minister’s close-cropped gray hair and light blue eyes open, engaging while her step-daughter’s top-heavy height and long, brown hair wasn’t even a match to her small, round father in the next room.
“So delighted to be invited,” Thea said, slurring slightly as she shook her head and coughed softly into one hand. “I’m so sorry, Fee,” she said, “feeling a bit under the weather. I think I’m getting a cold, sore throat and all that.” She held up both hands and laughed. “I promise I won’t breathe on either of you.”
Yikes, that was all I needed, to get sick for my wedding day.
“All the more reason you should let me do the ceremony.” I’d missed the fact Alfred Welling stood behind Thea, his skinny, short frame lost in the energy that was the older female minister, cold or not. His thinning red hair and immense face full of freckles made me so glad I’d taken after the auburn side of our coloring and not the washed-out tone he sported. Didn’t help his hazel eyes were framed with barely-there lashes or that if he somehow sported one more freckle his whole face would be engulfed. A soft potbelly and a fairly whiny tenor meant Alfred might have been only thirty but he was well on his way to being a cranky old man.
Oh Fee. No judging.
“Unless Fee and Crew say otherwise,” Thea said, mild enough but with the kind of edge that told me she’d been having this “conversation” (read argument) with Alfred likely for the better part of the day if not longer, “I’ll be conducting the ceremony.”
He was her junior minister, so there. But, to be honest, if I’d had my choice, neither of them would be officiating. This was all Mom’s idea. So if I got a cold from the ill minister who sipped at a large water bottle filled with some kind of juice, this was on Lucy Fleming.
Maybe I could use Thea’s illness to my advantage. Lean on Mom, convince her to let someone else do the honors. From what I understood it didn’t take much to be ordained online these days. Maybe Jill would do it.
Alfred’s face tightened, his jealousy clear. Yes, I’d heard the rumors he’d thrown a tizzy when Thea and her family moved here a year ago, that he argued against her being named senior minister for the Reading United Methodist Church. How he’d gone to council, seriously, to protest that she was an outsider and he was owed the position. Talk about sour grapes.
Which made me think about Crew and, naturally, do my very best to make Thea feel welcome in that moment. I slipped my arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the living room, nose wrinkling as I did.
“What is that smell?” As we passed into the space, I noted Andrew on his hands and knees with a small, clear bottle of liquid he was using to clean something with what looked like a cotton swab. He looked up apologetically, waving the damp mess at me.
“Sorry,” he said, “rubbing alcohol. Just have to make sure the bolts are clean.” He set his tools aside after adjusting one more then nodded to Ian who sat behind the organ. “Give that a try.”
Ian obliged, the sound so much better even I noticed. The young organist nodded his happiness, though he didn’t look happy, so much, keeping his head down. Poor kid. I knew for a fact that stutter of his wasn’t just something that showed up today out of the blue. I’d heard it when we’d initially talked about his role. Mom had been so patient with him and I’d done my best to ignore it, knowing that bringing attention to stuttering often just made things worse.
Whatever it was Ian had gone through that reduced his self-confidence to ashes, I felt for him.
I let Mom finish preparing the room, exiting and leaving Crew behind, knowing it would be another half hour or so before things got underway and wanting to just have a moment to myself. I slipped down into my apartment and sank to the stool at my kitchen island, heart suddenly beating far too fast and feeling an overwhelming need to cry.
Which I did, tucking into my bathroom and having a good one, you betcha. Not because I was sad or upset or worried. Because, honestly, I’d never, ever been this happy and I just didn’t know how to deal with it. Weird, right?
He found me there, slipped into the small space, Petunia at his feet, sinking to the side of the tub next to me and hugging me, rocking me all over again while my pug whined softly and licked her lips. Crew didn’t speak, just continued that gentle sway of love while I pulled myself together and finally blew my nose into the wad of toilet paper I’d spun off the roll.
“Fee,” he said, voice soft and sad. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Oh god, what was I doing to him? I grabbed him and kissed him, breathing into him, pressing so close I was breathless when I let him go. “Don’t for a second,” I said, “ever even think such a thing. Not for one instant, Crew Turner.”
He exhaled. Relief? “I’ll never understand you,” he said, but there was laughter in his voice.
“Me either,” I said, slumping. “I’m so happy, Crew. Why does that make me cry like a baby?”
“You’ve been through a lot,” he said. “And I’ve watched you more than survive, thrive on the kind of stress that’s brought hardened FBI agents to their knees. Even Liz says it.” He shook his head, fingers sliding into mine and locking in place. “The moment you’re happy? You lose your crap.” That made him laugh out loud. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Smarty pants gorgeous fiancé. “We should go back upstairs before Mom comes looking for us.”
Crew stood, grinning, still holding my hand and helping me to my feet. “That won’t end well for either of us.”
I hugged him then, breathing him in. “What about you, Crew?” I hated to ask, but I did anyway because fair enough and insecurities and just generalized holy crap I couldn’t be this lucky, right? “Any second thoughts?”
Crew kissed me then, the way only he could kiss me. Convincing me, once and for all, getting married was the only thing he wanted, being with me, now and forever.
As for me? Well, my mind went elsewhere, wishing the people who waited upstairs were anywhere but here and that we could take a few more minutes together, right? Just the two of us since the bedroom was nice and close and he was so damned delicious…
Crew let me go, blue eyes telling me yes, he was thinking the same thing and that we’d be finding a private moment or two before he was dragged, kicking and screaming (okay, I imagined he’d be protesting leaving me) away because of some stupid rule that said he couldn’t see me before the wedding.
I followed him out of the bathroom, to the kitchen, the steps. And paused when he stopped, my (our!) pug at my feet, to the sound of whispering in the staircase that was the perfect distraction from where I really wanted to lead the gorgeous man in my company.
***
Chapter Six
If there was ever a doubt Crew and I were perfect for each other, it died when the two of us stood there, heads down, ears straining in collective nosiness, to overhear the obviously heated whispered conversation going on at the top of my apartment steps. Shameless, the both of us, and we seemed to realize it at the same instant, though I’m positive he looked far more guilty about it than I ever would.
It was impossible to make out details, but as we both quietly mounted the stairs and headed toward the exit, the faint light from the mostly closed over door cast illumination on both Ian’s distraught expression and Thea’s sad face. They noticed us at the same moment, Ian wiping at his eyes and turning away, clearly embarrassed, but before he could hurry up and out into the main foyer, Thea engulfed him in a huge hug. He froze, shock in his expression a mix of emotions I could barely register before he tugged free and fled.
Thea turned and nodded down to us while we joined her, me finally feeling a bit guilty despite the fact they’d chosen my private retreat for their little tête-à-tête.
“Apologies,” Thea said, choked up herself, apparently, that horrible scent of the rubbing alcohol drifting toward us through the now open door and making me gag. “I didn’t realize anyone was down here or I would have suggested Ian and I go outside for our chat.” She exhaled softly, turning her head to look up into the light before coughing into her hand one more time. When the minister turned back, her cheeks were pink, eyes faintly glazed. “Poor child,” she whispered.
I was really starting to worry about how she was feeling as she swayed just a little. Crew caught her elbow and, with a quick look to me that mirrored what I was thinking, gently guided her upstairs. I let Petunia go next, following with reluctance, now, just wanting this to be over.
Mom was waiting and didn’t give us a chance to express our concerns about Thea’s illness, immediately bustling us into the dining room turned wedding chapel and clapping her hands for attention. Thea smiled faintly at her, sipping from her juice bottle with aggressive determination on her face before that smile widened and she nodded to us.
“Crew,” she said, “Fee. If you’re ready?” I looked up at my fiancé who smiled down at me, his concern shunted aside while he held my hand and squeezed just a little. Were we ready? Mom’s expression told me if I hesitated one more second in agreeing, I’d be disowned. I returned Thea’s smile and she raised her chin and her arms, sounding cheery. “Shall we begin?”
I’d attended a few weddings in my lifetime—more than a few, okay? Yes, I was aware being over thirty and not married yet myself meant certain things in certain people’s opinions but they could shove it—so I was pretty familiar with how things were meant to go. The fact we’d chosen a private venue meant I didn’t have to sit through all the formal stuff if I didn’t want to, though, being a minister, we’d negotiated with Thea on the religious stuff, namely that she promised to keep the proceedings to about fifteen minutes.
Perfect. Mom didn’t know it, but this was going to be a fast and furious wedding because I was done
waiting, thank you very much.
Thea took a moment to explain what we could expect while I stared into those gorgeous blue eyes I’d fallen in love with and missed out on most of what she was saying. To the point Daisy had to prod me with a giggle to get my attention to which I flushed and grinned while Thea swayed, one hand pressed to her forehead. Alfred’s pinched unhappiness made me all the more determined to support the older woman, though it was clear by the way she gulped at her drink she was quickly deteriorating from healthy to unwell and my heart was going out to her while my panicked insides begged the Universe and all that was holy to protect me from whatever was laying her low.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, giggling then, while her pink cheeks deepened, eyes now slightly glazed over. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I’m feeling rather off.”
Um. Wait a second. She didn’t sound sick, not with that slurring in her voice deepening, making her harder to understand. Wait, was she… oh my god. Was she drunk?
I gave her the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe she’d OD’d on cold meds. I’d done that myself a time or two, ended up pretty stoned in the process. But the way she drank that “juice” she had almost finished by the time we did our ten minute run through of the only slightly longer real thing—something that should have, in my opinion, flashed by in two or three—I had come to the realization that, cold or not, flu or not, Thea Isaac wasn’t suffering from medicinal over application.
She was smashed.
“Thea.” Alfred hissed at her when she stumbled, dropping her Bible, almost falling over when she tried to retrieve it while snort/laughing hysterically and slapping one thigh. “What is wrong with you?”
“I think that’s pretty clear.” Dominic’s judgy sniff into the air with that turned-up nose was met by a heavy sigh from Katelyn and a frown of disbelief from her husband, Andrew.
But it was Jill’s reaction to Dominic’s comment that caught my attention the most. Why did she look like she wanted to punch him in the throat?