High Rhymes and Misdemeanors
Page 37
An unfamiliar blue Mustang was parked outside Craddock House. Beside it stood a brawny silver-haired man. A small blonde woman sat on the hood. They were kissing.
“Ah hell,” muttered Peter.
“It’s Monica!” gasped Grace. They exchanged glances.
Peter pulled up beside the Mustang and Grace practically fell out of the Land Rover.
“Monica? What are you doing here?” She couldn’t help the accusatory note that crept into her voice. “Where have you been?”
Monica, the large silver-haired man in tow, went to hug Grace. “Surprise, surprise! Congratulate me. We just got married!”
Grace froze midhug. “You’re…kidding me.”
“Nope.”
The silver-haired man nodded sheepishly at Peter. Peter nodded back.
“Calum Bell?” Grace said doubtfully. She moved to shake hands but was swept into a bear hug.
“Of course it’s Calum,” Monica laughed. “Who else would it be?”
Tom? Grace thought, feeling stunned by Monica’s revelation. More, she felt…unsettled, as though Monica’s jumping the rails had some implication for herself.
“So this is wee Grrrrace.” Calum spoke with a charming Scottish burr. He was about fifty and very handsome. He wore jeans and a Harris Tweed sweater and did not look like anyone’s college professor.
“But…congratulations!” Grace said helplessly.
“You can’t believe it, can you?” Monica chuckled. Grace studied her friend as though they had just met. In a way, it seemed as though they had. Monica was about forty, petite with short blond hair and a laugh like a jolly little boy.
Grace gathered her wits. “It’s just…I’m surprised.” She turned to Peter, introducing him.
Seeming to pick up on her mixed emotions, Peter came to the rescue. “Let’s go inside,” he invited. I’ll open a bottle and we can celebrate.”
He led the way up the cobbled walk. Linking her arm with Grace’s, Monica whispered, “Oooh! He’s delicious.”