So Then There Were None

by Annie Adams

  Could I just die please?

  “As K.C. so elegantly pointed out, I’ve got a huge stain on the front of my dress. I can’t mingle with people all night having them look right there.”

  “Right wh—oh. There. No, you can’t have people looking there all night. That’s my job.”

  “Couldn’t I just shirk my duties as a bridesmaid? I’m quite sure nine bridesmaids are sufficient to carry out any duties that bridesmaids perform. I’m only there as a human bookend for the pictures anyway.”

  “If you’re not there, there’s no point in me being there. And I think Mike would be pretty upset if I didn’t show.”

  “We’ve got to think of some way to fix the dress, kiddo. What if we undo your hair?”

  “That’s an idea,” I said.

  “Why don’t you make one of those Corsica thingies?” Alex said.

  K.C. and I exchanged confused glances.

  “You know, the flower things you wear on your dress.” He waggled his fingers while pointing to his shoulder.

  “Oh, you mean a corsage?” I said.

  “Yeah, whatever they’re called.”

  “He’s a genius,” K.C. said.

  We finished getting ready then rushed down to the workroom to make a corsage, hoping there were enough leftover flowers I could borrow a blossom here and there. It turned out there was an extra box of three gardenia blooms in the little cooler.

  I’d done some studying of the period and discovered the popularity of corsages in the Jazz Age. Some of the pictures I’d found in my research showed corsages climbing all the way from the waistline to up and over the shoulder. Mine wouldn’t be quite so elaborate, but it would be enough of a distraction to keep the eyes away from the burn marks.

  K.C. had already gone to the ceremony room to let them know we were on our way. I made the corsage in record time. Alex suggested I pin it on rather than him to save time. I would have to teach him some day.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said as I tucked the last pin. “There’s no mirror, so you have to tell me how it looks.”

  “You look perfect.”

  He took my hand and we walked to the door, but then he paused and turned to me. He put my hand on his chest, over his heart. Then he took the nape of my neck in his hand, carefully as to not mess my hair, and he bent down and kissed me. His lips were soft but the rock hard body under my palm made a dizzyingly delightful contrast in sensations. I wanted to lock the door and stay right where we were. By the way our kiss seemed to last and last, I think Alex felt the same way.

  I slid my other hand around his waist, but he moved back a step and grinned down at me. “We have to go.”

  “You started it.”

  “I know. And I want to finish it, too. But we just spent all this time getting into these clown suits. It seems a shame to take them off already.”

  I laughed hard enough to snort, which helped to end the magic and move us along.

  “I know I’m charming and funny, but why are you laughing so hard?”

  After a few more uncontrollable giggles, I composed myself just enough to tell him, “It’s just that, red really is not your color.”

  “Huh?”

  I pulled a tissue out of my beaded purse and dabbed at his mouth. All the bridesmaids had been given the same shade of Carmine red lipstick, which I had applied in our room. I usually didn’t wear lipstick, so we hadn’t run into this problem before.

  We rushed out of the flower room and joined the others at the rehearsal.

  There wasn't time to talk to anyone about my last minute addition to the uniform. I saw some glances from other bridesmaids that told me it hadn't gone unnoticed, but I much preferred having questions about the corsage than the cigarette burns on my dress.

  I wasn't a smoker and neither was Alex or K.C., so it suggested that someone had damaged the dress beforehand—maybe when it was being hung in the room. But that didn't make sense, it was a no smoking facility and I couldn't imagine someone taking the risk of smoking while they placed the dresses. I made a mental note to ask someone later about who had delivered all the costumes to the rooms.

  As far as I knew, the men's suits were rentals, but the women's dresses had been made for each one of us. I’d sent my measurements to Christie by email, so that it could be custom-made. And that again made me think that if my dress had been burned before it arrived at the Harmony Lodge, something would have been said.

  The bride and groom had paid a lot of money for this wedding and that included the custom-made dresses. I couldn't imagine no one making a fuss. Even if it was too late to have it fixed, what little I knew of Christie or her co-maids of honor, told me that one of them would have said something before letting me just find the burn marks hours before the ceremony.

  Which led to the last conclusion. Someone had been in our room and done it intentionally before we arrived. I didn't remember smelling the remains of cigarette smoke in the room, and as a person with a super-advanced sense of smell, I would have noticed if someone had been smoking in or around our room that day. We had joined the party late, so maybe someone with access to the rooms on the day before we arrived would have done it.

  Maybe, I thought, it had something to do with the voice I’d heard in the hallway. I wasn't one to believe in ghosts or hauntings, that was more in K.C.'s realm. But it was becoming more obvious that someone or something did not want me there. And I intended to find out who or what they were.

  Chapter Five

  There wasn't much time between the rehearsal and the wedding ceremony itself. We spent the spare moments looking around the gallery, not only at the works of local artists, but at all the facets of the wedding décor. Alex kept an estimated tally of what the costs must have been, and with each new accoutrement, he seemed to lose another shade of his usual coloring, like repeated washes of a pair of dark blue jeans.

  “We don’t need all of this to get married,” I said. “Just you and me…and our mothers.”

  “How about the rest of our families?”

  “Of course. And Jerome. He’ll be our ring bearer.”

  He pulled me next to him as we studied a large watercolor painting. “Your mom will love that,” he said sarcastically. “What about flowers?”

  “I think we’ll skip them,” I said, keeping my eyes on the painting.

  He let out a small laugh. “You can’t have a florist’s wedding without flowers.” He put his hands on my waist and turned me to face him. “I know what you’re trying to do. But I want you to have the wedding of your dreams this time.”

  Well how was I supposed to keep my makeup from running when he said something like that?

  He bent his head and touched his forehead to mine. “That wasn’t supposed to make you sad.”

  Of course, they weren’t tears of sadness. I put my hands on either side of his face. “The wedding of my dreams—”

  “Let’s have everyone in the wedding party wait in the garden room please,” Eva announced. “The guests are arriving and are ready to be seated.”

  Alex and I paused for just a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Our discussion would be continued later.

  The ceremony was long. Probably in no small part due to the ten pairs of people who had to precede the bride, not counting cute little flower girls who refused to throw the petals Christie was so worried we might forget to provide. Nevertheless, the vows that were eventually spoken after the long-winded priest finished his many, many comparisons of marriage to scripture and metaphor, were special, almost magical. Mike and Christie beamed at each other, as they repeated them.

  K.C. bawled from the audience, making her the center of attention, just in case anyone missed her crimson flapper dress with enough support built in to the bustier, it could have held up the Chrysler building.

  I couldn’t help glancing at Alex about every two seconds, partly because he stood directly across from me. There were so many of us, we formed a great parabola of wedding bliss.

&nbs
p; After the ceremony and many handshakes and introductions, I managed to wade through the throng of guests in the foyer to find Alex talking to Pam and K.C.

  "Wow, this really did turn out to be something beautiful," Pam said. "I was crying my eyes out, how about all of you?"

  K.C. was still sniffling. "I just can't seem not to cry at weddings. I don't know what it is."

  Pam turned to Alex. "How about you? Tell us you didn't shed a tear."

  "I was crying on the inside," he said.

  “Nice corsage,” one of the bridesmaids said. I think it was Candee, but I still hadn’t memorized what name went with each face.

  “Thank you, I—”

  “How come the rest of us didn’t get one?”

  Did I detect a tone of upset? Wasn’t it enough that all of our stay here had been paid for, not to mention the dresses, the excursions and all kinds of gifts? I resisted the urge to tell her it was for camouflaging the cigarette burns. No one had been eliminated as a suspect.

  “Oh, well, it’s a florist tradition. The florist always wears a corsage to special events. It’s in our handbook,” I said.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize you guys had rules. Cross that off my list of careers. I’d hate to have to wear one of those everywhere I went.”

  Yeah, I thought, wouldn’t that be a real deal-breaker? And hadn’t she started the conversation by complaining she didn’t have one? At least the corsage had done its job, she hadn’t noticed the ugly marks just below the flowers.

  After we extended our congratulations to the bride and groom, Alex pulled me aside. “I don’t know if my duties as a groomsman have been fulfilled or not, but I vote yes. What do you say we go upstairs and you can get out of that dress?”

  “I didn’t bring another dress to change into, all I have are casual clothes,” I said.

  He smiled at me and slightly shook his head while he laughed. “You won’t be needing a dress with what I have planned.”

  “Ohhh.” I felt myself blushing. “Don’t you remember from rehearsal? We have photos now, and then the reception starts.”

  “Oh, man. Really? I was too busy looking at pretty girls during the rehearsal to hear anything they said.”

  “Oh yeah? Just exactly which pretty girls were you looking at?”

  ”Just the one that’s frowning at me right now.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “You shouldn’t frown like that. It ruins your pretty face.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Is that better?”

  He just laughed. “So there’s like three more hours of this?”

  “Yeah, isn’t it great?”

  “I don’t remember signing up for all of this.”

  “You did when you said you’d be a groomsman.”

  “I know. I’m just whining.” He bent down and kissed my cheek. Then whispered in my ear what might happen in three hours. My face got hot, along with the rest of me and I thought my knees might buckle. I had to fan myself so my makeup job didn’t melt.

  He just grinned at me while his brown eyes smoldered. “You look like you could use a drink. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey, Quincy. Oops!” Pam appeared out of nowhere and before I knew what had happened, there was red wine dripping from the front of my dress. Right about the level where shorter Pam had been holding her glass. “I am so sorry. Someone must have run in to me.”

  “It’s totally fine,” I said, although I was sick to my stomach. The red stain was front and center on my beautiful gown. Right in time to get my picture taken.

  “Oh, great, and just before we get our pictures taken.” She snapped her head over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll be right there. Quincy, I am so sorry about your dress. I’ve got to go help Christie set up for pictures.” She turned and left without another word.

  “Holy Samolies, what happened to you? It looks like you got shot,” K.C. announced loudly, just in case anyone on the shores of the lake didn’t know. Every head in the room seemed to turn and look at the great red stain which in turn set my cheeks ablaze so that I was sure they matched the color of the wine. “I thought you didn’t drink, Boss.”

  “I don’t,” I hissed through my teeth. “Someone bumped Pam’s elbow and it spilled all over me. They’re gathering everyone for pictures right now.” I sighed and massaged the spot above my eye that had started to twitch.

  “Have no fear, K.C. is here. First of all,” she grabbed the crook of my elbow and dragged me over to the temporary bar that had been set up, “let’s blot this as well as we can.” She grabbed some napkins and blotted at my stomach. If I didn’t feel awkward before, this would certainly take me there. “Barkeep, some of your finest club soda, on the rocks.”

  The bartender laughed at her and did as he was bid. She grabbed the glass and dipped another napkin in the liquid then started the pat down unrivaled by even the TSA. “Now, fine sir, I need a whiskey. Straight.”

  I crooked my eyebrow at that. I’d never heard of using whiskey for a stain.

  She picked up that glass and took a sip. She coughed and sputtered then said, “Smooth,” while she gasped for air.

  After a few more minutes of blotting with new napkins dipped in ice-cold, club soda, the stain actually looked much better.

  “Now, just remember to hold that beautiful bouquet in front of it as much as you can. No one will be the wiser.”

  Except that she had announced to the entire wedding party I had something wrong with the front of my dress. But she’d also saved the day. “I owe you one,” I told her.

  “Not at all. Us Janes gotta stick together.”

  I hurried over to the group, where I found Alex being talked into a corner by a couple of the bridesmaids, one of them being Pam. I got Alex’s attention and a look of relief passed over his face.

  “Oh my gosh, how did you get rid of that stain?” Pam asked, sounding truly astonished.

  “K.C. worked some magic, I think. At least enough that I can cover what I need to with my bouquet.”

  “There’s always Photoshop,” said one of the bridesmaids. I hadn’t learned her name yet, either.

  “I didn’t even think of that,” I thought I heard Pam say. She rushed over to hold Christie’s bouquet while the photographer repositioned the shot. She looked like a running back breaking through the line the way she bumped her co-maid of honor out of the way.

  “What happened here?” Alex pointed to my dress.

  “Pam accidentally,” I made air quotes, “spilled red-wine on the front of my dress.”

  “See? All the more reason to get you out of it.” He winked at me saucily. “You don’t think it was accidental?”

  “I think she’s trying to get me out of the picture.”

  “You mean these pictures?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the photographer.

  “No, I mean out of thee picture. More specifically out of your picture.”

  His mouth transformed into a smile that looked rather dismissive. I cut him off before I heard any familiar phrases.

  “I know. You think I’m being jealous or paranoid. But I’m not. I know about her crush on you. And I’m fine with it. I just think she took it a little too far with the wine. There was no one even near her when she came up to me.”

  “Well if it’s true, it’s pretty creepy. I’m sorry I didn’t know about her crush.”

  His ego did not need any more boosting today, but I decided it best not to tell him that. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ll just try to be cautious. She’s been very nice to me. She’s gone out of her way to be friendly to K.C. and me both. Maybe I am just being jealous.”

  “Well, I can’t say I dislike being the source of your jealousy.” He flashed a knowing grin at me. “The stain doesn’t seem that bad.”

  “Thanks to K.C., it’s not as bad as it could have been. But the dress is ruined. I’ll have to pay Christie for it.”

  Pam and Eva beckoned that all the bridesmaids were up next.

  “Quincy,” Alex said as I was leaving, “Ch
ristie’s not even going to notice. You look beautiful. You don’t need that worried look on your face in all the pictures. Just let it go.”

  He was right.

  After pictures, it was time for the big event. The ballroom had been closed off to anyone who wasn’t staff. The room was under wraps the same as if it were a bank vault. When the okay was given to open the doors, a rush of energy filled the corridor.

  I hugged Alex close as we entered and walked under a canopy of strung lights twinkling like stars under a big top sky. Then there were the tables. At the center of each round table, a six foot tall candelabra of white ostrich plumes soared, while sparkling jewels hung at varying lengths from branches, cascading as bejeweled and feathery weeping willows. At the base of each table tree were clusters of white hydrangea, creamy Vendela roses, deliciously peach Juliette garden roses, the delicate cup-shaped white lisianthus and exotic blooms of Phalaenopsis orchids.

  Each place setting came complete with a menu in black and white cardstock with gold lettering in Art Deco style.

  “I keep seeing the monogram U.N. Owen everywhere. What does that stand for? I’m not getting Christie and Mike out of that no matter how I try to work it out,” I said.

  “Mike’s real name is Ulysses. Ulysses Michael Owen,” Alex said.

  “Wow,” K.C. said, “that’s a whopper of a name. Covers it all.”

  “That doesn’t explain the “N.” Do you know Christie’s full name?” I asked. I’d only known her as Christie, the way she introduced herself, or Mike’s fiancé. I was getting paid for the flowers through Ivy and Stone, so I hadn’t signed the contract with Christie, where I would have seen her last name.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “Ask Pam, I’m sure she knows.”

  I was sure she did too. She seemed to know everything about the bride and groom.

  After an exquisite four-course meal, the dance floor was opened up. Alex and I danced a few of the slow songs together. With my heels on, I couldn’t lay my head against his chest, but I learned the real meaning of dancing cheek to cheek, and it felt so perfect, so comfortable. I thought about our future together and reminisced about the short few months before, when we’d first met. It felt like we could stay out there holding each other forever.