Marriage, Monsters-in-Law, and Murder

by Sara Rosett

  A small smile appeared on Brian’s mouth. “Don’t say that around Graham. That’s what he thinks, too. But if I was her favorite, it was only because I didn’t cause nearly as much trouble as Graham did. I wasn’t the one who nearly set her lawn on fire playing with her magnifying glass.”

  “That sounds like Graham,” Summer said, wryly. As an aside, she said to me, “I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard plenty about him.”

  “Oh it was exactly like him, and he tried to pin the blame on me.” Brian looked toward me. “Don’t look so worried. Graham has calmed down.”

  Summer said, “Or as Aunt Gloria put it, ‘he’s reformed quite nicely.’”

  “So he’s a lawyer, too?” I asked.

  “Yes, in Macon.” Summer said. “He works in a firm there.”

  Brian still must have been thinking about his childhood because he took another sip of his lemonade, then said, “Graham would go to Valdosta for Fourth of July, too. Aunt Gloria had a little rancher on the outskirts of town. We’d sleep in a tent on the lawn. When I think about it now”—he shook his head and laughed—“it must have been blazing hot. July in Georgia, and we wanted to sleep outside. We were crazy, but I don’t remember the heat. There was a pond for fishing, and we’d do that, too. Never really caught anything. And there was always her homemade lemonade.” Brian lifted his glass and took a sip.

  The growl of a powerful car engine carried through the trees. “The next ferry from the mainland must be in.” Summer set down her glass and rose to greet the new arrivals. A black Ferrari roared up the drive. The car shot by our group. Brian half stood, a frown crinkling his face. “That’s not . . .”

  Brake lights flared and the sleek car swung backward in an arc, slipping into a slot at the front of the line by the Mercedes.

  “Oh, good. It’s Graham,” Summer said. To me, she added, “You can meet the infamous Graham right now, Brian’s cousin and best man.” She turned back to Brian. “When did he get that car?”

  Brian shrugged. “No idea. Last I knew he was driving a Camry.” There was something about his voice that made me look closer at Brian. He sounded distracted. He was squinting, not at Graham, but at the woman getting out on the passenger side of the car.

  “Oh, he brought someone for his plus one,” Summer said. “I didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

  Summer walked across the lawn to meet the couple. Brian followed more slowly, his gaze fixed on the leggy, tanned woman walking in Graham’s wake. The woman and Graham were quite a pair. Even from a distance, I could see that she was beautiful. Everything about her was long and slender, from her graceful neck to her long, tanned limbs, which glowed against the fabric of her pale pink halter top and white Bermuda shorts.

  With a head of shining blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a squared-off jawline, Graham wasn’t a slouch in the attractiveness department either. He hadn’t dressed as carefully as the woman had. His faded denim shirt, wrinkled khaki shorts, and boat shoes didn’t exactly go with the Ferrari, but I supposed when you drove a car like that you didn’t worry too much about your clothes, especially if you were a guy. Despite the wrinkles, I recognized the shirt as an expensive designer brand. It was just like one I’d given to Mitch for Christmas last year. Together, Graham and his date looked like Hollywood A-listers. I half expected a couple of paparazzi photographers to pop out of the surrounding greenery.

  I dropped the binder into my tote and trailed along behind Summer and Brian, figuring it would be bad manners to sit in the shade while everyone else was meeting and greeting.

  I intended to say hello and continue on to the resort to find Mitch and the kids, but I ran into Brian’s back when he stopped abruptly at the edge of the drive. I apologized, but he didn’t hear me. He was focused on the face of the woman as she pushed her big sunglasses up into her mahogany hair, revealing dark brown eyes fringed with long lashes.

  She looked . . . embarrassed, I realized, as she hung back a step behind Graham as he slapped Brian on the back. Because of my collision with Brian, I heard Graham say in an undertone, “Sorry, man. I’ll explain later,” as I shifted around the immobile Brian.

  Brian seemed to shake himself, reminding me of our dog, Rex, when he woke from a nap. “Summer,” Brian said slowly as if he was having a hard time finding the right words, “you’ve talked to Graham on the phone.”

  “Yes. Finally, we meet.” Summer gave him a quick hug.

  “And this is Julia.” Brian’s voice had a strained quality to it, and I looked at him, but his face was blank.

  Summer hesitated for a second. “Julia?” Her voice held a question as she shot a glance at Brian.

  “Julia Banning.” The leggy brunette stepped forward and extended her hand. “So happy for you both. Thanks for having me.” Her words came out in a rush and carried some extra significance that I couldn’t identify.

  Summer made a choking noise, then cleared her throat. “Of course.”

  Graham ran his fingers through his blond hair, pushing it off his face as he grabbed Julia’s hand and backed away. “We better get our rooms. See you in a few.” Julia waved, then they crossed the shell drive to retrieve their suitcases from the car.

  As soon as Graham and Julia climbed the stairs and disappeared into the cool dimness of the resort’s front door, Summer spun to Brian. “Julia? Julia Banning? I can’t believe it. It’s not enough that we have to deal with the family feud between your mom and stepmom, now we’ve got your psycho ex-girlfriend, too?”

  Brian held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t invite her. Obviously, Graham asked her as his date.” His face darkened. “But he should know better.”

  Not eager to witness a lovers’ spat, I eased to the side, trying to make myself invisible, but it didn’t matter. They were so focused on each other that they didn’t take any notice of me.

  “He should know better, but it doesn’t matter.” Summer rubbed her forehead and turned away. “We can’t ask her to leave.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask her to marry me.” Brian put his hands on Summer’s shoulders and turned her around. “I asked you. I don’t care that she’s here. . . .” Their voices faded as I tiptoed away.

  I almost made my escape, but the sound of a wedding bell ringtone cut through the air, then Summer called out, “Ellie, wait. The florist wants to go over the final numbers for the corsages.”

  I turned back. After Brian gave Summer a kiss that didn’t leave any doubt about where his affections lay, he left to catch the ferry to the mainland so he could pick up some guests at the local airport. Summer and I huddled at the wicker table again, the phone on speaker between us as we went over the flower order.

  When we were done, Summer ended the call and fell back against the chair.

  “So, ex-girlfriend, uh?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard about her.” Summer was seated facing the resort. She stared straight ahead, squinting at the central bell tower, then looked sideways at me. “Julia went a little crazy when Brian broke up with her a few years ago. She kept going to his office, camping out in the lobby for hours, refusing to leave, and scrawling weird notes written in lipstick on the mirror in the women’s restroom. There were a couple of instances of vandalism—Brian’s car was keyed and the building his office was in had a couple of windows broken. Another time, paint was splashed on the front door. There was never any proof that she did it, but that’s what everyone thinks.”

  “Wow, and she looked so innocuous.”

  “And beautiful.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “Brian loves you. Like he said, he’s marrying you, not her.”

  Summer’s mouth quirked down. “I know, but it’s not what you want a few days before your wedding, the groom’s old flame showing up.” She ran her fingers up into her hair and gathered it into a ponytail. “I’m beginning to understand the bridezilla phenomenon—all the focus and expectations and the pressure. Maybe we shoul
d have eloped.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but there was a pop, then a whooshing sound. I looked around as it repeated, but didn’t see anything. Summer gasped, and I turned back to her. Three bloody spots bloomed on her chest, crimson against the white of her dress.

  Tips for an Organized Wedding

  To keep track of all the small details for the big day, make a wedding binder or notebook. You can create as many sections as you need, but here are some basic ones to get you started:

  • Budget

  • Time Line

  • Invitations

  • Guest List

  • Wedding Location

  • Reception Location

  • Flowers

  • Catering

  • Attire

  • Transportation

  • Lodging

  • Music/Entertainment

  • Officiant

  • Legal

  • Photography/Video

  • Honeymoon

  Dividers with storage pockets will come in handy as a place to store samples as well as receipts. Or you can add zippered plastic pouches between sections.

  * * *

  In addition to your hard-copy materials, you’ll also want to keep track of all the electronic communications you’ll receive. A dedicated e-mail account or a folder within your existing e-mail account can help you keep all the details at your fingertips.

  Chapter Three

  Summer collapsed forward, slipping off her chair and landing on her knees in the grass. I was so stunned, my mind couldn’t seem to take in what I was seeing. Another pop and whooshing sound cut through the air, snapping me out of my frozen state. I jerked down below the table beside Summer.

  I gripped her hand. “Summer—”

  “I’m okay,” she said in a dazed voice. Red smears covered the skirt of her sundress now.

  This cannot be happening. “Hang on. No, don’t move. I’ll call for help.” Cautiously, I peeped up over the table, snatched my phone, and hunkered down again.

  I punched buttons. “No service. I’ll go for help. I’ll hurry—”

  “Wait.” She rose up a few inches.

  “No, stay down. In fact, you should lie down.”

  “Ellie.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Well, not much.” She rocked forward again. “Oh, that stings.”

  She was delirious. “Not hurt? Of course, you’re hurt. You’ve been shot. . . .” I said, but my voice trailed off as I realized the red stains weren’t spreading. In fact, they were only splotches on the fabric. Garish and scary-looking, but only splotches.

  Still hunched over, her breathing rough, Summer touched one spot gingerly. “It’s paint.”

  I breathed out and glanced around, my heart still skittering around in my chest. It was quiet. No more pops or whooshing sounds.

  Two red stains marred the carpet of the green lawn a few yards behind us. “Paintball. That has to be what happened. But how—?” I scanned the grounds. No one was in sight, except for an older couple bumping up the shell path in a golf cart. The resort was quiet. The windows marched across the facade, reflecting the sun, and the staircase and the veranda were empty.

  A shrill scream cut through the air. Summer and I flinched and hunkered down again. It was the woman in the golf cart. She pointed at Summer, her hand shaking as she continued to scream.

  “She’s okay,” I called, but the woman couldn’t hear me over the piercing wail of her own scream, which brought the resort staff and enough commotion and people that I felt reasonably safe abandoning our little white table that we’d used as a barrier.

  I thought we were going to have to call for medical help for the manager, Mr. Markham, when he saw Summer.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said to him. “That’s not blood. They were red paintball pellets.”

  He was a small man with puffy gray hair, a beaky nose, and coal black eyes. “But the paintball range is quite a distance from here. There’s no way . . .”

  I touched the chair. “She was sitting here, facing the resort.”

  “But then that means—” He glanced at the resort. “That would mean . . .”

  “That they came from the resort.”

  * * *

  I knocked on the door to Summer’s room a few hours later. She pulled it open, her cell phone tucked into her shoulder. She’d changed into a loose, turquoise V-neck tee and a pair of jean shorts. “I’m fine, Mom. I promise,” Summer said into the phone, then waved me in and closed the door. “Yes, I have an ice pack.” She picked one up from the marble-topped dresser and pressed it to her sternum. “No, I don’t think we can ask her to leave . . . well, no one actually saw her do it, for one thing.”

  I shifted the fabric-covered box I held from one hand to the other and mouthed, Do you want me to come back later?

  Summer shook her head. “Mom, I’ve got to go.... No, I’m fine. Really. I promise.... Yes, I’d tell you if I wanted you to come right now. Brian’s here and Mitch, too. You know how he gets when he’s in his protective-older-brother mode.... No, you and Dad wouldn’t make the last ferry anyway. Don’t worry. Just get that contract squared away, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Summer ended the call and dropped down onto the bright yellow duvet, propping her back against the white iron headboard with glass accents. The bed was covered with boxes, rolls of ribbon, stacks of paper, and her laptop computer. “I should have known someone would call Mom. Between her, Brian, and Mitch, I feel like I’m trying to rein in an army ready to do battle on my behalf.”

  I smiled. “The Avery family never does anything halfway. I guess you should be glad you have so many people to defend you.”

  “I am, but at times it gets a tad overwhelming. Especially when you’re the youngest.”

  “But you’re really okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a few welts. They won’t go away before the wedding, but no one will be able to see them anyway. All the hits were squarely in my midsection.” She waved her hand at her chest and stomach, then put down the ice pack and reached for a stack of small boxes and gold ribbon. “The last of the favors.” She tied a piece of precut ribbon around one of the boxes and put it in a basket on the bed.

  “I brought the box with everything for the reception.” I put it on the dresser. “But you can check it later. I’ll help you with that.” I moved over to the bed, sat down cross-legged, and went to work helping her tie the ribbons. I shook a box. “What are they?” I asked because she didn’t seem to want to talk about the paintball incident.

  “A small jar of peach jam and postcards of the island.”

  “That’s nice. I like it.”

  We worked in silence for a while, then without looking up Summer said, “Brian talked to Graham. Julia went immediately to her room as soon as they checked in and stayed there. She says she was lying down because she had a headache.”

  “Where’s her room?”

  “A few doors down, on this side.” Summer made a miniscule adjustment to the bow so that each side was exactly the same size.

  “So, facing the lawn.” We were on the second story of the resort. Our rooms, one for me and Mitch and one for the kids, were adjoining and were located on the opposite side of the hall, almost directly across from Summer’s room. We had a lovely view of the sumptuous back terrace and gardens. Summer’s room was in the turret portion of the resort and had curved walls set with windows that overlooked the resort’s front sweeping shell drive and the wide lawn.

  “I suppose Brian was too polite to insist on searching Julia’s room or luggage?”

  Summer tossed the box into the basket. “That would be going beyond the bounds of Southern hospitality, wouldn’t it? You can’t accuse your guests of shooting paintball pellets at you, can you? It just isn’t done.”

  I met her gaze. “Well, Julia did have a really big suitcase.” After I met them, Graham and Julia had returned to the sports car and retrieved their luggage before going
to check in. I’d noticed Graham struggling with Julia’s large suitcase. “It was so big he could barely get it out of the car.”

  Summer jumped up from the bed and paced to one of the windows overlooking the lawn. “I’m sure Brian and Mitch will keep a close eye on her from now on.” She stared out for a moment, then said, “I can’t believe someone would do that. It means that she brought it with her—the paint gun and the pellets. It’s crazy.”

  “What does Graham say?”

  Summer went to the dresser and selected a chocolate from a gold box. “He’s in denial. Says that it had to have been a mistake, probably some kid from the paintball area sneaking around where he shouldn’t have been who’s too freaked out to own up to it.” Summer bit into the chocolate and made a face. “Coconut, ugh.” She tossed it in the trash bin, then picked another from the box. “Brian says he can tell Graham really likes her. Brian is afraid that if he asks Julia to leave it will make everything worse. He is Brian’s best man. We can’t really ban his date from the wedding. So even though Brian doesn’t want to do it, he’s going to let it ride.” She came back to the bed and held the box out. “Want one? There’s two left.”

  I was tempted. I hadn’t brought my typical stash of chocolate Kisses that I always carried with me, and the chocolate aroma made my mouth water. I shook my head, cursing the pink sheath dress. “I have to pass, if I want to wear the dress I brought for the wedding.”

  “You’re right.” Summer shoved the lid on the box and tossed it in the trash.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, straining across the bed and retrieving the box. “There’s always the day after the wedding.”

  “Keep it.” Summer squared her shoulders, her gaze on her wedding gown, which was hanging in splendid isolation in the room’s closet. The folding doors were pushed back, allowing the swell of the skirt to bell out. Summer had chosen a gorgeous strapless gown with a crisscross bodice in a soft ivory color. The skirt was a filmy A-line style without a train. She gave a brisk nod. “I’m not going to worry about crazy Julia. You’re right. Mitch and Brian will keep an eye on her. This weekend is about Brian and me and our families celebrating together. That’s what is most important and what I’m going to focus on. Where are the kids?”