I’d no sooner started, than Warren’s voice interrupted me. “Annie.”
“Hmm?” I kept my focus on the dishes, not looking up.
He cleared his throat. Loudly. I looked across the room to find him leaning against the kitchen wall… with a red rose in his teeth.
“What in the world?”
He held his hands out to the side and did a little cha cha cha, then extended his arms in my direction.
Ah, an invitation.
I quickly dried my hands and rushed into my husband’s embrace. He took the rose—real, not fake—and pressed it behind my ear, then slowly danced me around in a circle. After giving me a final spin, he closed out our choreography with a well-rehearsed dip.
For whatever reason, as he lifted me back up into his arms for one of the sweetest kisses of my life, I was reminded of my very first Internet lesson: Just the facts, ma’am.
I ran through again them in my mind, so that I would never forget.
Fact #1: I am the happiest, most blessed woman on the planet.
Fact #2: Refer to Fact #1
As I gazed up into my husband’s eyes, I felt the inevitable question coming on. He gave me a wink as he asked: “Moo-lenium Crunch?”
“It’s freezing out tonight,” I argued. “Are you sure you still want ice cream?”
He nodded and reached for the bowls. Together, we filled them and headed off to the den, where we sat side-by-side on the sofa.
Well, we tried to sit side-by-side. Sasha somehow managed to squirm her way between us, head resting on Warren’s knee. Yep, she definitely needed a companion.
We sat quietly—the three of us—enjoying the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, as we ate our ice cream together. When we finished, I leaned my head against Warren’s shoulder and rested, content for the simplicity of such a blissful night.
As it so often did, life interrupted. The telephone rang out, shattering the stillness. I looked at the caller ID and had to smile. Brandi. Warren must’ve guessed from my smile.
“One of the girls?”
When I nodded, he said, “Let me get it.” He answered the phone, and dove into a joyous conversation with our eldest daughter.
He eventually passed the phone off to me, and Brandi began to fill my ears with tales of wedding photographers and tuxedo rentals. I leaned back against the sofa and let her go on, enjoying the cadence of her voice as the words flowed.
Warren slid his arm around me, and I leaned against his shoulder, phone still pressed to my ear. Every now and again I got in a “Sounds great, honey,” but mostly I just listened. Listened with all of my senses—another thing I’d learned from my crime-fighting days. We ended the call, and I thought about those words. Crime-fighting days. Hmm.
Much as I hated to admit it aloud, I had enjoyed the past several weeks. Figuring out who had stolen the money from the bank had been challenging, sure, but I’d had a blast doing it.
My excitement rose as I considered the possibilities. Maybe the Lord had more adventures in store for me. Maybe He wanted me to scale the highest mountains. Maybe He wanted me to swim the deepest seas.
Or maybe…
I glanced over at my husband, who now snored like a freight train, his head tilted back against the sofa, lips slightly parted. I pulled the flower from behind my ear and slipped it between his teeth with a giggle.
Maybe He just wanted me to take the time to smell the roses.
###
Thank you for reading The Wedding Caper. I hope you enjoyed Annie’s story. Please enjoy chapter one from the second book in the Bridal Mayhem Mystery Series: Gone with the Groom.
Gone with the Groom
Chapter One
Bye, Bye Love
My daughter’s fiancé had always been a bit of a prankster, but disappearing two weeks before their wedding day seemed a bit much, even for him.
I received the call on a Friday morning in late January while taking my dachshund, Sasha, to the groomer. The bride-to-be sounded beside herself. I tried to make sense of Brandi’s frantic words, but found myself in a blur of confusion.
“Honey, would you mind repeating that?” I shut off the car and shuffled the cell phone to my left ear, hoping to hear her better. “I must’ve misunderstood. Did you say Scott has disappeared?”
The trembling in my daughter’s high-pitched voice evolved into full-fledged sobs. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Brandi rarely cried, at least not openly. When she finally came up for air, I heard, “Y. . .yes! He’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“N. . .no one has seen him.” I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment as another round of tears spilled forth on her end. “He didn’t show up for work this morning. And he missed his ten o’clock tux fitting at BJ’s Formal Wear. No one has laid eyes on him. No one.”
I glanced down at my watch. 11:05. “I’m sure he just overslept.” I spoke in my most motherly voice. “Happens all the time.”
She gave a little sniffle. “I’ve called his apartment ten times. Maybe eleven. And I’ve called his cell phone more than that. It goes straight to his voice mail. He never lets it go to his voice mail when I call. Never!”
“But you told me just yesterday he’s been having trouble with his cell phone,” I reminded her. “Remember?”
“Oh yeah.” I could hear her voice brighten right away. “I forgot about that.”
“And what about those friends of his?” I offered. “You know how they are.” His buddies thrived on playing practical jokes, but since they had morphed into groomsmen, their tricks had multiplied exponentially. Surely they’d had a hand in this.
“Jason says he hasn’t seen him,” Brandi said with a sniffle. “None of the guys have. And his car is missing from the parking lot at his apartment. Missing, Mom. Just like he is!”
I pulled my jacket tight around me then climbed out of the car with Sasha’s leash securely clutched in my hand. The pup’s feet no sooner hit the icy walkway than she began to slip and slide, carrying me along behind her. “Whoa, girl!” We both skidded along until I finally caught my footing. With a shiver, I clutched her leash in one fist and my oversized leather purse in the other, all the while using my shoulder to press the cell phone to my ear.
“D. . .don’t worry, Brandi,” I panted as the dog pulled me this way and that. “God is in control. I’m s. . .sure t. . .there’s a logical explanation for this.”
“But how do you know?”
I finally got my canine companion to slow down. After a couple of deep catch-up breaths, my lungs felt frozen from the inside out—not a pleasant feeling. But no time to worry about that right now, not with my daughter in a panic. I did my best to console her.
“I don’t know for sure, but let’s be logical. Scott probably just decided to hit the gym before work and got carried away on the elliptical machine. He’s obsessed with working out, right?”
“Yeah.”
I knew this firsthand, having visited the gym myself several times over the past few weeks in preparation for the wedding day. Scott and I often ended up side by side on the elliptical machines.
“Or, maybe,” I suggested with a lilt in my voice, “he had a dentist appointment he forgot to tell you about. It’s got to be something like that.” I shivered against the cold morning air as I made my way toward the puppy spa. Mental Note: Next time, skip the trendy jacket and go straight for the full-length coat.
“O. . .okay.” I heard her sigh of relief. “I know you’re right, Mom. You’re always right.”
“I’m not so sure about the ‘always’ part, but I am sure Scott must have a reasonable explanation for all this. I love you, Babe, and I’m praying.”
As Brandi clicked off, I shook my head and sighed. With my twin daughters, Brandi and Candy, both in wedding-planning mode, pandemonium had taken hold of the Peterson household over the past few weeks. It seemed the closer we got to Daughter #1’s Big Day, the more tensions mounted. I often wondered if we would live through
this season of our lives.
And my own escapades hadn’t helped the situation. My budding career as Clarksborough P-A’s “Crime Fighter Extraordinaire”—this according to the editorial staff at the Clark County Gazette—had only added to the chaos. I smiled as I thought about the strange twists and turns my life had taken of late. Somehow, in the midst of tracking down clues, I’d managed to keep my marriage and my editing business afloat, amazing my clients, and putting a cock-eyed smile on the face of my wonderful husband. Always the comedian, Warren had even taken to calling me “Agatha Annie.” I didn’t mind. At first.
But my sleuthing days were behind me now. Crime fighting and wedding planning were never meant to be attempted simultaneously. This, I had already learned the hard way.
I shoved the cell phone in my purse and entered the door of Coats ‘n Tails, where I passed off an unwilling Sasha to the groomer—a twenty-something female with more tattoos than anyone should be allowed by law. I gave her the necessary instructions: Flea dip. Nail clip. Red polish. Red sweater with faux fur trim. New red collar with Austrian crystals. Be back at two o’clock.
As I turned to leave, I pondered Brandi’s final words: I know you’re right, Mom. You’re always right.
Hmm. The past few weeks had given me plenty of opportunity to prove myself wrong. What I didn’t need, especially now, was another shot at it.
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The Wedding Caper Page 23