A Wedding to Die For

by Adrianne Lee

  Seth insisted we show the threatening note to the police. Sheriff Gooden insisted Troy be present to keep anyone from following through on the threat. I wasn’t positive that Troy wouldn’t disrupt the wedding, but he hadn’t seem pleased about being ordered to make sure no one else did.

  I shuffled into the kitchen, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep, my mind spinning with everything I needed to get done today. There were too many worrisome, unknown elements at play. The aroma of coffee pulled me into the kitchen. I expected to find Mom and Billie chatting over their favorite brew, but only Gram sat at the breakfast bar, newspaper spread out, as she read the morning edition while eating poached eggs.

  She glanced up as I drew near, her good morning smile shifting into a raised-brow grimace. “Looks like you’ve been on a two-day drunk. You might want to put some of those cucumbers I bought the other day on those eyes, Daryl Anne.”

  “I had two glasses of wine. Two. My max.” I filled a mug with coffee. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Still in bed.”

  She’d had a late night. Very late. But that was so unlike her that I couldn’t imagine where she’d gone or what she’d been doing. “Her car wasn’t here when I got home. I wanted to talk to her. I waited up, but I didn’t hear her come in.”

  Gram sighed, the sound feeling like a brick dropped onto the breakfast bar. “I have to tell you, I haven’t seen Susan that upset since… well, since your daddy died. And before you ask, she wouldn’t tell me why. All I know is that awful woman did something to rile her up.”

  I sipped the steaming coffee, afraid to glance at Gram. She could read my giveaway expression as if it were a bold-print ad in The Weddingville Weekly. “No one needs to worry about it much longer,” I said. “I’m sure Tanya isn’t sticking around after the wedding today.”

  “Thank the good lord.”

  But what would stick around was the fallout from her accusations about my father. As much as I wanted answers, I didn’t want them from Gram. I wasn’t sure she could take the stress, and I wasn’t sure it was wise to add to the mental burdens already weighing on me today. And yet, as I drank my coffee, a part of me waited for Mom to wake up and join us.

  All right, I admit it. I dreaded opening a Pandora’s box that I might afterward wish I’d left shut. But the lock had been pried off. I’d been allowed a peek inside, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be satisfied not knowing for sure. Even if it breaks your heart?

  After half hour and some dry toast to soak up the acid in my stomach, I gave up on my mother. I sliced a couple of cucumbers and headed to the shower. On days like this, with my schedule packed and spare time at a premium, I adored short, no-fuss hair. I set my brush aside. Meg and Ash would add the finishing touches to my makeup and that of her bridesmaids later on so I didn’t bother with more than some eyeliner and mascara. The cucumbers had reduced the swelling and redness. Thank goodness. I tossed on some sweats and realized I needed to do a load of laundry before packing tomorrow.

  I opened the lid to the washer and tossed stuff in. One sock leaped out and landed in the wastebasket. As I reached to retrieve it, I spied a flash of color beneath it. Frowning, I lifted the wad of fabric from the basket, realizing as it unfolded that it was the fuchsia dress my mother had worn to the dinner last night. The hair on my nape twitched. What the hell? Mom had to have been really upset to toss the dress away. It was new. And she’d looked beautiful in it. On the other hand, maybe she never wanted to see it again because it would always remind her of the nasty encounter with Tanya.

  As I stared at the floral pattern, I recalled every moment of that awful scene in the restaurant’s ladies’ room. My hand began to shake. I blinked, swallowed a throat full of disgust, and fought to rein in my temper. My gaze narrowed on the dress. The urge to rip it to shreds swept through me, a repulsive impulse that went against the very core of my upbringing. I created garments and mended whenever possible, always with an eye toward preservation. Not destruction.

  This dress, I realized, already had a large tear near the right shoulder and the matching belt was missing. Mom had obviously had the same reaction as me. Only she’d acted on it. Another indicator of her unusual distress. I started to ball up the dress, but froze when my fingers brushed something like dried mud or rust near the hem. A lot of it. Splatters not just at the hem, but across the skirt. My throat wanted to close. Just where had Mom gone after dropping Billie off at home last night? What had she done? How did this—whatever it was—get all over her dress?

  The doorbell rang. I jumped like a guilty kid. But I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t worn this dress. Hadn’t caused the splatters. The rip. A nervous laugh escaped from me. I stuffed the dress back into the basket. Mom and I would be discussing this later today or tonight whether she wanted to or not.

  The bell sounded again. Meg and the bridesmaids were dressing here. Gram had gone down to get the shop set up for the scheduled customers and walk-ins. Mom’s room was empty too, I saw. She must have risen while I was showering. I doubted either would answer the back door. I hurried to the elevator, shoving the puzzle of the soiled dress from my mind. I owed Meg my focus. This was her day.

  We were to be delivered by town cars to Tie the Knot. Meg would be riding with her father. I felt a pang of envy. Not that I wished I was getting married, but that my dad could be here to walk me down the aisle when I did finally wed. But thoughts of my dad today only brought to mind Tanya. I wasn’t going there. Not now anyway.

  I wrenched the door open, fake smile plastered on. To my surprise, only Meg stood there. “Meg! You must be excited. You’re early.”

  Her cheeks were flushed, indicating her emotions were running high. I hoped it was a happy high, even as I realized something was amiss. I tugged her inside and into the elevator to the top floor. “What’s going on?”

  She didn’t say a word, just led me into the kitchen and helped herself to some coffee. Worry scurried through me. A quiet Meg equaled trouble. She must have heard about the switch in venues. About the vandalism. About Troy? I couldn’t stand the silence, but wanted to reassure her. “Zelda has it—”

  “You were right.” She cut me off, lifting her chin like someone determined not to cry. No matter what. Why did being right make my stomach ache? My mind ran the gambit of things she could be referring to. Right about Peter being a diva? Right about her not marrying a man if she wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure she loved him? And only him? Right about her still having feelings for Troy?

  I ran my tongue over my dry lips as I leaned across the breakfast bar, studying her. “I’m sorry, Meg, but I’m going to need more clues to figure out what you’re talking about.”

  “My mother.”

  Okay… this I didn’t expect. I scrambled trying to recall everything I’d ever said about Tanya. Too much to pin down to any one item. “I’m not sure whether to apologize or—”

  “I shouldn’t have invited her.” A blush crept up her neck.

  I clamped my mouth shut, sensing that I shouldn’t interrupt.

  Meg swallowed. “Or reconnected with her. Or had anything to do with her. Ever. She doesn’t really care about me. She never did.”

  I braced for the flood of tears, empathy washing through me. But no tears came. Meg’s eyes remained as cool as jade. The oddity of this struck sheer terror across my heart. I’d never seen my chaotic friend so seriously calm and resigned. Well, at least, not since that long-ago day when she’d told me that her mother was never coming back. I reached across the breakfast bar and touched her hand. “Oh, Meg, I’m so sorry.”

  “No. Don’t be. I can’t deal with sympathy right now. I’d fall apart, and I’ll be damned if she’s going to ruin my wedding.”

  At that moment, I wanted to find Tanya Reilly Jones and plant her six feet under. I stifled my fury. If I lost it, Meg would suffer more. But damn, I couldn’t stand to see her like this. I blinked back my own tears. The last thing she needed or wanted was me falling apart on her behalf. But oh, t
he helpless feeling. “You want me to hunt her down and shoot her? ’Cause I’d willingly go to jail for you.”

  Meg smirked and shook her head. “Thank you. But no. Besides, she’s gone. Left town. Without so much as a good-bye.”

  Why did that surprise me? I suppose because, when I’d left the restaurant last night, they’d been thick as thieves. Or so it seemed. I mean Tanya had Meg’s full attention, laying it on as thick as peanut butter. I sighed. Conning her, I’d thought at the time. Looked like I was right, whether or I liked it or not. “Meg, I…”

  But what could I say? Nothing that would ease the pain she had to be feeling.

  “It’s all right, Daryl Anne. I fantasized some crazy expectations. That’s what comes of living in La La Land, I guess. I started to believe in happy endings. Fool. Stupid, dumb fool.”

  I hated that she was berating herself. That the most important female in her life was such a disappointment and worse.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t say good-bye…” I said, thinking out loud. “She was doing an article on Weddingville. Surely she wouldn’t take off without notifying someone. In a text? Or an e-mail?”

  “Actually, she sent a text. It said: ‘Something came up. Sorry.’ ”

  Cold. Like the woman herself. No heart. No feelings for anyone except herself. I was a fool too, for thinking I’d seen some flashes of vulnerability and humanity in Tanya. At the time, I told myself even the worst of us usually has some sort of soft spot. Only how much humanity had she shown my mother? And to abandon Meg twice? My hands tightened around my coffee mug. If I ever crossed paths with Tanya again, I’d give her a soft spot.

  I kept these thoughts to myself, hoping Meg wouldn’t read my face and know.

  She sighed. “I’d like to get ready for my wedding and not think about anything else today.”

  “Then you came to the right place,” I said in my best-friend-has-your-back voice. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get through the ceremony?”

  “Yes. I have you and Dad and Peter and that’s all I need.”

  “You do. We’ll make this the most wonderful wedding ever.”

  “Damn straight.” She gave a toss of her fiery hair and glanced toward the window. Sunlight glinted off the green water. Seagulls dipped and soared. “It’s so nice outside. I’m sorry the ceremony is taking place under that tent.”

  I blanched. Oh, no. She hadn’t heard. Why hadn’t Zelda let her know? Did Peter know yet?

  “Daryl Anne, your eyebrows are dancing like marionettes. What’s the matter?”

  “Er, ah, I’m surprised that Zelda didn’t tell you.”

  “Probably couldn’t reach me. I misplaced my phone again.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get you in as much trouble as it did last time.”

  She laughed. “I need to put it on a chain around my neck.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Zelda should be overseeing the final details at the venue right now. Has a problem come up?”

  “Not today.” Not that I knew of anyway. “But last night…” As gently as possible, I explained what had happened to the tent and the switch to the gazebo, omitting the threatening note and Sheriff Gooden’s insistence that Troy oversee the ceremony.

  Meg’s green eyes widened, and the first sign of delight shone in their depths. “Really? I don’t know whether to be angry or distressed or thankful.”

  I frowned, growing more confused. I’d expected her to be swearing and vowing to throttle whoever had tried to ruin things. “Why thankful?”

  “The gazebo was my first choice. Peter wanted the tent, in case any paparazzi showed up or flew over in helicopters. I think he thinks he’s a bigger celebrity than he is.” Meg stretched like a lazy cat.

  I bit back a full-on grin. I thought he was a bigger celebrity than she realized and feared when she discovered that it might be too much for her to handle. “Well, it’s going to be so gorgeous.”

  “Everything I ever dreamed.”

  “Except for your mother being there.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  “Well, you can’t have everything,” she said, pressing her lips together. I had the distinct impression that she thought that, if she told herself that, she’d wouldn’t be sad.

  My heart cried for my best friend, but I put on the biggest smile I owned and hugged her. “Come on. We can’t go to a wedding looking like this. There’s makeup to apply and hair to fix. Gowns to be donned.”

  “Ash should be here any moment to get things started.”

  * * *

  The bridesmaids arrived, smiling and laughing and rallying around Meg, lifting her spirits. Ash Moon showed up last, bringing all the hair supplies and makeup. And Meg’s wayward phone.

  “Peter has been texting and phoning,” Ash said, handing the cell to its owner.

  Meg took the phone, then sighed. “I can’t remember my password. I lose the phone so often, I am paranoid about it. What did I change it to this week?”

  “Your wedding day date, remember?” Ash laughed. “I keep mine the same so that I never forget. My favorite day of the year—twelve twenty-five. Christmas.”

  “You’ll both have to change passwords now that we all know the current ones,” Jade said.

  “No way,” Ash said. “Then I wouldn’t remember mine.”

  Meg was reading the texts Ash told her about, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. She glanced at me, worry radiating from her. “Oh, dear. Peter found out about the change in venue, and he’s breathing fire.”

  My stomach did a little roll. If he was upset about no tent, imagine what he’d do when he discovered that Troy would be attending in his official capacity. “Nothing to be done about it, unless he wants to postpone the ceremony.”

  Meg’s eyes rounded at the suggestion. “Don’t even think that. This wedding is taking place today. In Weddingville. And if he can’t deal with that, then I guess he can just marry someone else.”

  Spoken like a bride-to-be who is sure of her man. And yet, I had the oddest sensation that she would live to regret those words even as her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard of her smartphone.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Ash said, waving a thick makeup brush.

  Meg perked up. Hair and makeup were her world. She could disappear into the creativity and put her troubles on hold. She let herself be swept into the circle of female chatter and laughter, more raucous than anyone. No one would suspect her inner turmoil.

  Ash was hired by the studio fresh out of beauty school. She’d been a quick study, learning everything Meg could teach her and coming up with a few innovations of her own. She transformed the whole lot of us from everyday into head-turners. Seth arrived as she was finishing up with Meg. He wore another white dress shirt and chinos with pockets for film. I knew he preferred film to digital for wedding photos.

  His familiar scent wound into me like a velvet hook, digging into my heart, tugging my emotions. I fought the pull. But when he went all shy-guy in front of the giddy bridesmaids, I lost my grip. I was falling hard for this guy. Damn. I didn’t want to. My life was in California. I’d get over this crush-gone-viral. That’s what I’d do. Somehow.

  Ash interrupted my romantic musings. “There you go.”

  She moved aside, giving us a view of Meg. My mouth dropped open. Seth’s camera clicked.

  “Meg, you’re breathtaking,” someone said. I couldn’t be sure who. My gaze was fixed on my best friend. Her flame-red hair tumbled around her face in curls, kissing her bare shoulders, giving her skin a peaches-and-cream hue and making her eyes look like giant, sparkling emeralds.

  Even she was impressed. “Wow, Ash. I’m going to have to give you a raise.”

  “Hey,” Ash beamed, “you all heard that. You’re my witnesses.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Seth said, “And I got it on film.”

  Meg blushed.

  Seth took several candid shots and a few group photo
s, then we chased him out of the apartment until we’d all donned our gowns. We descended to the second level, to an area of the shop that Gram and Mom had set up to resemble a church interior. There Seth had us pose for more formal photos, several with Meg holding her bouquet, a couple with her showing off the garter. The energy among the group was joyous.

  Billie interrupted us, sweeping into the room with Big Finn in her wake. He presented a surprisingly dashing figure in his three-piece tuxedo. He’d slicked his shock of red hair into place. He gaze went straight to his daughter, and he gasped. Tears glistened in his eyes. “No bride was ever so beautiful.”

  Meg shuddered and smiled weakly. “Don’t make me cry, Dad. It’ll ruin my makeup.”

  He nodded, sucked in a breath, and withdrew an oblong jewelry box from an inner jacket pocket. “It’s a good thing, then, that I’m not wearing makeup.”

  My heart hitched.

  Before the room broke into a collective weep-fest, Gram said, “Your dad and I wanted to make sure that you have your something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, Meg.”

  Mom slipped silently into the room. Ours gazes met, and she looked away. Just as well. This wasn’t our moment. It was Meg’s.

  “I have a blue garter,” Meg said, flashing her leg again. “And my shoes and gown are new.”

  “Well, then, this would qualify as something old,” Big Finn said, opening the jewelry box to reveal a single strand of peach-colored pearls with a diamond clasp. “These belonged to your great-grandmother Reilly. She wore them for her wedding and passed them to her daughter, my mother, when she married my father. Now they’re yours, Meg.”

  Meg gingerly lifted the necklace from the box, her eyes glazed with unshed tears, and for a second, I thought Ash was going to have to redo her makeup. “Oh, Dad, this is so perfect.”

  She turned her back to him, carefully lifting her hair so that he could hook the clasp. She spun toward the mirror and sighed. “So perfect.”