The wedding was next Saturday. There was time. Lots of it. Almost two weeks of it. There had to be something off some rack somewhere that would fit me.
My mother's voice carried over the stall door. "You have no other choice," she said. "Rocks and hard places, Nina. Rocks and hard places."
Groaning, I picked up the balled dress and pulled open the door.
"If you hadn't procrastinated so—" She broke off.
I raised an eyebrow, the one that had the thin six-inch scar above it—one of the results of that run-in with the train. The doctor assured me it was still healing and would fade over time. I was still trying to decide if I believed him. Ana coughed. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Think I'll go flirt with Armande."
"Coward," I said.
Her dark hair shimmered as she cocked her head. "So?" As she scampered off, contrition threaded through my mother's blue eyes. "You know what I meant, Nina." I knew. I had procrastinated, but that little matter of me almost being killed hadn't helped my time crunch at all. I tied the laces on my Keds. "We have time to find a new dress."
She tapped the pointy toe of her strapless shoe. "When?"
I bit my lip. She had a point. I'd never been so swamped at work, and with Riley . . .
My mother gestured with her arms, much like Maria had earlier. "Your sister's counting on you. You must get this dress fitted today."
"It fits," I growled. "But I am not wearing it."
My mother swore under her breath in fluent French. I was blissfully glad I'd never learned the language. "You must. For Maria."
I wondered if Maria had heard from Nate yet. Something about him going missing was eating at me. It was just so out of character.
My mother looked at me with those eyes. The ones that said, "I am your mother. I gave birth to you. I will guilt you for the rest of your life if you do not do this for me." I sighed and looked away. I figured if I didn't look directly at her, she had no power.
My mother hung the hideous dress on a hanger. It dangled, taunting me.
I shuddered. My old flannel pillowcase looked better than that thing.
"Nina."
Damn, damn, damn. Now she'd added the Voice. The one that could make the Leaning Tower of Pisa straighten just to please her sense of style.
My mother continued to give me the evil eye. "Listen to Ma-ma . . . it is for one day only."
"The pictures will last a lifetime." And the memories of that dress would undoubtedly give me nightmares for years to come.
As I came out of the dressing area, I noticed that the bridal boutique was empty save my mother, Ana, Armande, and me. Armande was holding both Ana's hands and looking adoringly into her eyes. The man knew how to charm. Ana spotted us, murmured something, and Armande kissed both her cheeks.
Decorated in nauseatingly frilly tulle and chiffon, the shop was designed to conjure images of joy, of happily-ever-afters. As if there were such things.
I tried not to be such a cynic. It was true my beliefs in marriage were somewhat tainted, what with the way my Kevin had cheated on me and all, but I supposed true love did exist. Somewhere. Far away.
Again, the thought of skipping town popped into my thoughts. Taking Riley and leaving it all behind—the wedding, work, Kevin. Hmmm.
"Don't even think about leaving town," my mother warned.
How did she do that? I hated that about her.
"Leaving town?" Ana moseyed over. "You're going somewhere?"
I smiled. "Disney World, maybe."
Color tinged my mother's cheeks. "When?" Ana asked.
I could sense Ana already mentally packing her bags. "Tomorrow."
"I'd have to call in sick, but I could make it."
The French swearing started again, and Ana's mouth dropped open as she stared at my mother. "Aunt Cel!" As my mother began rambling about her weak heart (which she didn't have), I rolled my eyes.
I felt a poke in my ribs and looked up into Ana's mischievous eyes. "Did I tell you," she said to me, "that my mother was flying in early for the wedding?"
Color infused my mother's pale complexion. The feud between her and my father's sister Rosetta, Ana's mother, hadn't diminished any since the summer Aunt Rosetta moved her family into our house, sans Uncle Sal, over a decade ago.
My mother knew how to hold a grudge.
Innocently, I asked, "When?"
"Wednesday."
"Wednesday? As in the day after tomorrow? Or next Wednesday?"
Ana smiled wide and bright. The feud between our mothers had become a source of entertainment in our family over the years. "The day after tomorrow."
French cursing filled the air as my mother put her hand over her heart dramatically.
Armande's cheeks pinkened. "Oh my," he murmured.
My mother looked at him. "My dear friend, do you have any whiskey?"
My mother followed Armande into a back room, then came back a second later with three glasses and a bottle of whiskey in her hands. She slumped into an overstuffed floral couch. Looking up at us, she offered up her glass in a silent toast and gulped the whiskey back.
After the day I'd had, I knew the feeling.
Ana poured herself half a glass and offered the bottle to me. I knelt in front of the glass coffee table and filled mine halfway. The phone rang in the background.
"Mrs. Quinn?" Armande said, his hand covering the mouthpiece.
The look on his face told me that half a glass of whiskey wasn't going to do me any good. I poured it to the rim, took a fortifying sip for good measure. Okay, two sips, but who was counting?
I took the glass with me to pick up the phone.
"There is a very hysterical woman on the phone asking for you," Armande whispered.
I reached for the receiver, not sure what to expect. Who knew I was here? And why wouldn't they call my cell phone? I patted my pocket, suddenly realizing I'd left it in the truck. "Hello?"
Sniffles echoed in the background. "Nina?"
"Maria?" I whispered so my mother wouldn't hear. I glanced over my shoulder at her. She continued to slug courage from her glass. There was no need to worry her about this Nate business if there was no need.
"What's wrong?" I hoped to heaven that fancy wax hadn't burned down her condo.
"I shot him."
My glass slipped from my hand.
I heard my mother murmur something to Ana about me not being able to hold my liquor. I turned so they couldn't read my lips.
"Nate?" I whispered. "You shot Nate?" His name practically stuck in my throat.
"Good God, no." I heard more sniffling and a few hiccups. "The man."
I rolled the phone cord around my finger. "What man?"
"The man who broke into my house."
Longingly, I looked at the whiskey staining the floor. "Call the cops," I said. "I'll be right there."
Four
After dropping off my mother, I drove to Maria's condo, wondering the whole way who it was Maria had shot. I'd taken Ana with me mostly because after I told her what had happened, she'd refused to get out of my car and threatened to tell my mother I'd lied to her about why I had to leave the bridal shop in such a hurry.
I pulled into a parking spot in the condo complex and looked around at the cops roaming the common areas; searching for clues, I assumed.
Ana jumped out of my car, her eyes wide as Frisbees. Over the roof, she said, "There's Mike Loney. He's newly single, right?"
I barely heard her. My eyes were glued to the front door of Maria's condo. Kevin was standing under the portico with Ginger Ho, er, Barlow, his partner—and lover. "I think so," I murmured, not wanting to stare at Kevin but not being able to help it. Ana followed my gaze. "Oh no."
"It's okay. Really it is. I need to get used to seeing him out and about. It'll get easier once the divorce is final. Right?"
She thumped her chest. "Am I supposed to know? 'Cuz you're looking at me like I'm supposed to know." I took a tentative step toward Maria's front door. Good
, my knees held. "You are divorced."
"Does that make me the expert? The Emily Post for screwups?"
I sighed. When she went off on a tangent there was only one way to distract her. "Hottie at five o'clock. No ring." Ana spun, sashayed away.
Kevin looked up as I approached. Talk about awkward. His eyes filled with a tenderness he had no right to possess since he was sleeping with someone else.
Ginger hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll go, uh—" She disappeared around the side of the building.
"Hey," Kevin said to me.
"Hey."
Scintillating.
"What're you doing here?" he asked.
I was desperately trying to ignore the fact that he could still make my knees weak. I hated that about him. And about me. I should be stronger. I was woman, hear me roar—and all that crap. "Maria called me. Is she okay?" He shrugged. "Fine. A little rattled. She's hitting the cookie dough."
Uh-oh. Maria had been on a diet for the past month, trying to fit into a wedding dress two sizes too small. "What about the guy?"
Kevin's steel-toed shoe dragged against the wooden planks. "Gone."
Ack. She'd gone and killed someone. "Maria won't be charged, right? It was clearly self-defense."
Kevin's right eyebrow arched. "I can't imagine the guy will press charges, seeing as how he was the one in her house." Blue and red flashes lit the side of his face. Stubble covered his strong jaw and shadowed his cheeks. Dark crescent-shaped lines sat under his eyes.
He looked like crap.
It did my heart good.
"Press charges?" I repeated after his words sunk in. I tipped my head, thoroughly confused. "How can he press charges if he's de—"
"Nina!" Maria, clad in a silk robe, launched herself at me. "Oh, it was horrible, just horrible."
Kevin hid a smile behind his hand. "Awful," he murmured. Maria stomped her foot. She stomped better than anyone I knew. "This isn't funny."
Kevin's sparkling green eyes sobered, but his smile was still cemented to his lips.
"Really, Kevin, a man was shot." I took Maria's hand. "It's okay. It was self-defense."
"He was going through my things," Maria explained. "What was I supposed to do?"
"I know. Now shut up. Don't say anything more. We'll get you an attorney. It was self-defense, pure and simple. When did you get a gun?"
"What gun?" Maria asked, her pale eyebrows dipping.
A chuckle escaped Kevin's tightly pressed lips.
I looked between the two of them, feeling like I was missing something. "What? What's so funny?"
Hands held up and palms out, Kevin said, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
Maria pouted in his direction. "I never did like you."
My radar went off. Maria adored Kevin. "What am I missing?"
Kevin straightened to his full six-foot-three-inch frame. "There was no gun involved, Nina."
"What? I thought there was a shooting? What is going on!?" I was not amused. Not at all.
Maria smiled. "There was a shooting. Technically. I do have the best aim around."
Kevin wore a cocky half smile. He nudged Maria. "Tell her what you shot the guy with." Maria's bottom lip puckered out.
"Maria!"
She murmured something under her breath. "What? What was that?"
"Hair spray, okay? I shot him with hair spray."
I closed my eyes, leaned back against a column. This wasn't happening. "Hair spray?"
Maria managed to whimper and look beautiful at the same time. "It was all I had."
I looked at Kevin. "And by 'gone,' I assume you literally mean gone, as in he ran?"
"Faster than Maria from a tag sale."
"Hey!" she said, stomping again.
"Did you recognize him?" I asked her.
"No. He had a mask on, one of those horrible ones that mat your hair and leave little creases on your face."
"A ski mask," Kevin put in.
Glancing at him, I found he was smiling wide. I shot him a this-is-not-funny glare, but it had no effect whatsoever. I turned my focus back to Maria and asked, "He take anything?"
"My peace of mind. I was this close," she held up two fingers, "to forgetting that Nate had run out on me!" Kevin's dark eyebrows shot up. "Nate bailed?"
I hedged. "We don't know that for sure."
"Well, he's not back, is he?" Maria paced the small landing. "Where was he when a crazy madman came in and attacked me?"
"I thought you weren't hurt."
"Physically no, but emotionally, I'm a wreck. I've been mentally abused." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and checked her reflection on the front door's glass pane. "Yeah, I can tell."
This was ridiculous. I'd practically had a stroke when she told me she'd shot someone. I'd rushed over here, breaking several traffic ordinances, and above all I'd lied to my mother about why I was in such a rush to drop her off. And it was just a matter of time before she figured it out and punished me in that way only mothers could.
One of the uniformed officers called Kevin away. I watched him go for a second. I tried to ignore that ache in my chest. Despite my hectic schedule, I was actually grateful I was too busy to dwell on the end of my marriage. "He could have attacked me," Maria was saying, running her hands over her body as if checking for injuries, and looking like she enjoyed it.
I held a pissy comment in check. She was right—she could have been hurt . . . or worse. Letting that thought simmer, I felt my anger slowly fade. Besides, it was impossible to stay mad at Maria. She had that way about her. "Why don't you pack a bag?" I suggested. "I can bring you over to your new house. You can't stay here tonight." She pouted. "All right."
Inside, her condo looked like it was moving day. All the furniture had already been moved to the other house, and boxes, both full and empty, filled the living and dining rooms in neat stacks. Nothing looked disturbed. One of the French doors leading onto the back patio was ajar, the wood around the handle splintered. "Is that how he got in?" I asked.
Maria nodded. "Kevin said it looked like he used a crowbar. I need to get someone to come fix it before I leave." She laughed, and there was a slightly hysterical edge to the sound. "Don't want anyone to break in."
A yawn threatened to escape, and I clamped my lips closed. "You go pack. I'll call Kit and see if he can help us out."
Tears brimmed along her eyelashes. "Thanks, Nina."
"Hey, everything will be okay." I shook fake pom-poms. "Rah. Rah."
There was a reason I never made Saint Valentine's cheerleading squad.
She smiled at me, wiped her eyes, and headed for the stairs, looking a little lost and forlorn. I wasn't used to having our roles reversed. She'd always been the cheery one. Using my cell, I called Kit, who promised to be over in no time after a quick stop at the local home supply store. I poked around Maria's place as I called to check on Riley. He should have gotten home over an hour ago, and with his late night disappearing acts, I wanted to make sure he was where he was supposed to be.
He answered on the third ring, sounding a little breathless. "H'lo?"
"Ry? You just getting in?"
"Uh, yeah. Stopped at McDonald's after work."
At least he'd eaten. My dinner with Ana had gone right out the window, and my stomach was starting to yell at me. "I'm going to be a little late," I told him.
He didn't ask for details, and I didn't fill him in.
"I'll probably be in bed, so keep it down," he said, a hint of teasing in his deepening voice.
Squatting, I looked closer at Maria's damaged door. It was a little scary to think that a simple crowbar could make locks so useless. "Don't forget to lock the doors—use the dead bolts too—and set the alarm."
Our neighborhood burglar hadn't been caught yet, and as I glanced around Maria's place, I wondered if maybe he was marking other territories.
I said good-night to Riley and began snooping around. Cardboard boxes of various sizes lined the walls of her dining and
living rooms. All but a few things remained in her kitchen cupboards and drawers. Just the basic necessities to get through life for the few days before the wedding. I moseyed my way into Nate and Maria's study, absently wondering what was taking her so long. How much could she possibly need for one night?
I stopped short just inside the study's door. Boxes marked office had been sliced open and dumped onto the floor. Papers, file folders, pens, and other desk clutter covered the gleaming hardwood.
Trouble In Spades Page 4