Wedding Cake and Widows: A Comedy Cozy Mystery (Mom and Christy's Cozy Mysteries Book 8)

by Christy Murphy

  “Hey! How are you guys doing?” he asked.

  “Great, I just came back from my bachelorette party in Vegas,” I said.

  “I heard about that. Is everything going good for the wedding? We got the check for the trolley, so you’re all set there,” Al said.

  “Looks like everything is on track,” I said.

  “I wish I could say the same for me,” Al replied. “Business has been booming, and being married isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

  “You’re doing a great job,” Mom answered. “Everybody thinks so.”

  “Thanks Jo, but I think I’m not going to run again,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to run a business and run a town. Thanks to your mom, this place has gotten really popular, and not for murder. Now it’s popular for diapers, which is weird but better.”

  Al left, and we placed our orders for the pot roast special.

  Weird, but better. I think that summed up my life well.

  “We’ll find an excuse to talk to Rhett,” Mom said to DC.

  “He’s got a job at one of those drink and paint places now,” DC offered.

  “What’s that?” Mom asked.

  “Is that one of those places where you take a class to learn how to paint something while you drink wine?” I asked DC.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “I’m not good at painting,” Mom said.

  “And I don’t like drinking wine,” I said. “But I guess we’re going, anyway.”

  17

  I entered the kitchen, dressed for a night of painting and drinking with Mom. Which basically meant I was wearing an old top and pants that I didn’t mind getting stained.

  Mom and Dar were at the kitchen table.

  “I think this one tastes better,” Dar-dar said to Mom, pointing to one of the two slices of cake he’d just eaten.

  “No,” Mom said. “It’s not about which one tastes better, it’s about do they taste the same.”

  “Not exactly,” Dar said. “This one tastes better.”

  Mom exhaled and stared at the cakes.

  “Almost ready, kid?” Mom asked me, disappointed.

  “Did their cake taste better?” I asked.

  “No, he picked my cake, but they’re supposed to taste the same,” Mom said, picking up the two paper plates with pieces of cake on them and tossing them into the garbage. “Do you think you can sell or give this cake away at the Mocha Muse?” Mom asked Dar.

  “I don’t think Al would go for that,” Dar said.

  “Kid, can you take this over to the neighbor’s house?” Mom said, pointing at the half sheet cake that she’d baked.

  “Mom, they said they don’t want any more cake. It’s interfering with their diabetes medication,” I said.

  Mom had been on a baking frenzy trying to perfect the recipe. “Don’t worry, Mom,” I reassured. “People won’t be able to tell the difference from slice to slice.”

  “Darwin could tell a difference,” Mom said.

  “But that’s because you asked him,” I replied. “As long as it looks the same color and size, they aren’t going to know the difference,” I said.

  Mom nodded, but I could still see that she was distressed.

  “I should’ve just made all the cakes,” Mom mumbled, but shook off her bad mood and turned to me. “We should get going.”

  “Where are you guys going?” Dar asked scooping up our cat, Moriarty, and petting his ears.

  “We’re going to go to one of those classes where you drink wine and paint,” Mom said.

  “But neither of you like wine or painting,” Dar said.

  “We got a free coupon, and I thought it would be something different to do,” Mom explained.

  “I better get ready, too,” Dar said, getting up. “I have a date.”

  Mom and I traded a look.

  “A date?” I asked.

  “With Ford?” Mom asked.

  Dar smiled. “Yes, and he said I could wear my heels.”

  Mom gave an impressed face. I grabbed my keys, and we exited the kitchen to the garage.

  We drove to the painting workshop in a comfortable silence. “Have you given any thought as to what you want to do next?” Mom asked me.

  “I have no idea,” I said to Mom.

  “Be on the lookout for opportunities,” Mom said. “Tell yourself you’re open to something new, and when someone presents an idea or asks you to do something, check your gut. If you don’t know how you feel, give it a try.”

  “Speaking of being on the lookout, look for the painting place,” I said to Mom. “It should be on the right, somewhere.”

  We were heading West down Ventura Boulevard, just like the Tom Petty song said. I slowed as we tried to read the address.

  “There it is,” Mom said, pointing to a storefront just a few yards away.

  No luck on a parking lot. I’d have to parallel park on Ventura. Ugh.

  I flipped on my turn signal, downshifted the van, and looked for a spot.

  The honking of a horn from a car behind me made me jump a little, but I was used to that. People could be really rude in LA.

  I found a spot, and I started the arduous task of attempting to parallel park this huge van without stalling.

  It seemed like I nailed it on the first try.

  “Great job, kid!” Mom said.

  “Open the door and make sure we’re near the curb,” I said, not entirely believing my success.

  Yep,” Mom said, opening the door. “We made it. And it’s straight, too.”

  I engaged the emergency brake, and we got out of the van.

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “We’ll just ask questions and not mention much of anything about ourselves,” Mom said. “Men, especially ones that like to think of themselves as artists, love to talk about themselves. He won’t even bother asking us anything too personal.”

  I thought back to my ex-husband, who was a singer for a band and thought of himself as an artist. Mom was right.

  We entered the studio. It looked like the class was going to be pretty small.

  “Welcome, ladies,” the young man teaching the class said. Well, I guess he wasn’t that young; he looked to be about five years younger than me.

  “He’s the guy Derek fought with,” Mom whispered to me.

  It was definitely him.

  “Pour yourself some wine, and pick out your easel,” he said. “We’ll start soon.”

  “Are you the teacher?” Mom asked.

  “Rhett Filbert, artist in residence,” he said, offering his hand.

  Well, lah-tee-dah.

  Mom shook his hand. I did the same.

  “Is this your first time?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “I can’t paint, and I don’t like to drink,” Mom said.

  “Okay then,” Rhett said. The conversation halted. He made no attempt to keep the situation from being awkward.

  “What are we going to paint?” I asked.

  He pointed to a painting of a desert with a cactus and a sunset.

  “Interesting,” Mom said.

  “My girlfriend just came back from this crazy bachelorette party in Vegas, so I was kind of inspired to do a desert landscape,” he said.

  Mom and I traded a look. Could it be a coincidence that Rhett’s girlfriend had just come back from Vegas?

  “We just came back from Vegas, too,” Mom said. “But our trip was just for fun.”

  “She went because she needed cheering up. I encouraged her to go. She went with a celebrity and her daughter, but I’m not allowed to say which one,” he bragged.

  Oh brother.

  “Wow! Impressive,” Mom said. “Do you know where she stayed?”

  “I think it was a place called the Golden Nugget,” Rhett said. “Very kitschy old Vegas.”

  Someone else in the class distracted Rhett. Mom and I went to go get some beverages before the class
began.

  “Mom, before the tournament, I overheard Lexi talking to someone on her cell, but she didn’t tell me who it was.”

  “Do you think Rhett knows she married Cal? Was that part of their plan? To inherit money by being his assistant and wife?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “But we should find out.”

  It surprised me that Rhett was a good teacher.

  “How long have you been doing this?” a woman in the class asked him.

  “I’ve never actually taught a class before, but I studied fine art in college and I’ll probably have a gallery showing early next year,” he said.

  “That’s so impressive,” the young woman said.

  I could tell that she was starstruck by Rhett, and he ate it up.

  “This is just temporary,” he said.

  Mom and I traded a look. Did he plan on launching his art career with the money he thought he and Lexi would inherit?

  The class ended before we could ask Rhett more questions. His attention was consumed by the starstruck young student.

  Mom and I took our paintings and went back to the van.

  “For a guy with a girlfriend, he sure seems flirty,” Mom said.

  “He does,” I said. “On the other hand, it’s not like Lexi was faithful to him.”

  “But that could have been part of their plan,” Mom said.

  “Lexi said she was successful, but maybe she overplayed that to look less suspect,” I said.

  “That’s probably right,” Mom said. “We can always have DC look into it, though.”

  “But I guess we’ll have to wait until after our honeymoon,” I said.

  “Yes, everyone’s coming in tomorrow and the next day, so we’re not going to have time to do any more of this,” Mom said.

  “Are you going to miss solving mysteries when this case is finished?” I asked Mom.

  “I never really thought we’d solve this many, kid. They just kept happening, and once I figured out what happened back home, I just didn’t have this need to know things anymore,” Mom explained.

  I knew what Mom meant. Wenling had originally told me the reason why it meant so much to Mom to solve mysteries was because Mom always wanted to know what happened to her sister, Lalaine. But once we figured that out, I hadn’t noticed that Mom’s interest in murder mysteries had waned.

  Had mine?

  18

  I woke up to the sound of my older sister’s snoring in the rollaway bed here in our room. Phoebe, or as I called her, Feebs, had arrived in town the day before yesterday in time for the rehearsal dinner. My younger brother, James, was staying at Ford’s house with his family. He’d arrived the morning of the rehearsal dinner.

  Yes, I was the Jan Brady, a.k.a. the middle child.

  Waking up in this room with my sister brought back memories. We’d shared a room our entire childhood. Time passes so quickly. My wedding day seemed to arrive out of nowhere.

  “Time to get up!” Mom called to us from the hallway. We were meeting the makeup artist at Ford’s house at ten.

  Married! I was getting married today! Nothing else mattered but having a great time at the party.

  “Excited, Christy?” Phoebe asked, still in bed.

  “Yes, and I feel strange,” I said.

  “You’ve been married before,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but that was like running an errand. We didn’t have a wedding, and it just didn’t feel like this.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  I paused to think of the right word. “Special, Feebs. Today feels really special.”

  She nodded. We sat in bed, not speaking, enjoying the quiet together.

  “I wish Dad were here,” I heard myself saying.

  She nodded. “He always loved a party.”

  “I want it to stay this way all day, Feebs. Remind me, okay?”

  “Remind you what?”

  “Remind me not to worry the day away. That it’s a special day, and it doesn’t matter what goes wrong or what goes right. All that matters is enjoying us all being together,” I said.

  “I can do that,” she said.

  19

  In a wedding day miracle, Dar-dar was in and out of the bathroom in under half an hour. Phoebe used the shower in the master bedroom, and I used the one in the hall.

  Mom had been clever enough to make sure that I packed my honeymoon bags in advance, and my wedding dress and shoes had been delivered to Ford’s house already.

  So once I’d showered, making sure to not mess up my hair that I had done yesterday, all I had to do was drink my coffee and head to the venue.

  I joined Phoebe, Mom, and Dar-dar in the kitchen.

  “Do you want any breakfast?” Mom asked.

  “Just coffee,” I said. I was too excited to eat, and I wanted to save room for all the hors d’oeuvres and the sit-down meal we were going to have. I was even looking forward to the wedding cake.

  Phoebe, Mom, and Dar-dar were already in their bridesmaid dresses. I was the only one who was getting dressed at the venue.

  I didn’t want to run the risk of spilling coffee on my dress or having it get all wrinkled while we rode in the van to the venue.

  “I guess you’ll go with us in your rental car and Dar will ride with you?” I asked Phoebe.

  “No,” Mom said. “We’ll all ride together. And then Feebs can drive us back.”

  “I don’t know,” I said to Mom. “I don’t want their dresses to get ruined in the back of the van.”

  “You’re not supposed to worry about anything,” Phoebe reminded me.

  We finished our coffees, I grabbed my purse and keys, and we headed out of the garage.

  Instead of the van, I saw the SUV that we’d driven with Derek Halpern.

  “You got it!” I said to Mom.

  “I got two,” Mom said. She hit the garage button, and the door opened. Another SUV, a newer version of the one in the garage, was parked in the driveway.

  “Happy wedding gift!” Mom said.

  “You bought me an SUV?” I asked.

  “You said it drove great,” Mom said. “And you traded in your car for the van for me.”

  “Mom, we can’t afford this,” I said.

  “I really can,” Mom said. “I’ve got a five-year deal with the adult undergarment company. They’re launching special underwear liners early next year.”

  “If you don’t take it, I will,” Phoebe said.

  Mom handed me my new key fob, and we all jumped into the SUV.

  My phone dinged just as I put on my seatbelt.

  “Who’s texting you?” Mom asked from the front passenger seat.

  I dug into my pocket and checked.

  “It’s Celia!” I said. “She wants to know where to pick up her bridesmaid dress.”

  “On no, she doesn’t!” Dar said, grabbing his phone.

  “I told her she wasn’t in the bridal party when she didn’t show up to the fitting,” I said.

  “I told her she wasn’t in the bridal party either,” Dar said. “I can’t believe her.”

  “I bet she didn’t tell her mom that she’d shirked her responsibilities, and now she’s going to pretend like she’s been slighted,” Mom said, folding her arms.

  “Does she really think she’s going to be in the bridal party?” I asked.

  “I bet her mother is going to try to insist,” Mom said.

  I exhaled and took a deep breath. I told myself to enjoy the day and not worry it away. But as I pulled out of our driveway, my coffee churned in my empty stomach.

  20

  I pulled up to Ford’s house to find my Aunt Evelyn waiting outside with her arms folded. This wasn’t going to be good.

  “Remember, Christine. No worrying,” Phoebe whispered to me as she leaned forward to the front seat. Before I could even fully park the SUV, Mom’s door was open, and she stormed over to Aunt Evelyn.

  When Mom speaks Visayan, her native tongue. Her voice jumps about an octav
e, and when Mom yells in Visayan Her voice jumps two octaves.

  Briana’s car pulled up in the spot next to ours. I parked the car, and she got out of her vehicle. I opened the door, and we all got out.

  She approached us, smiling.

  “I see you got your wedding gift,” she said.

  “You knew!’ I said.

  I attempted to hit the lock button, but I must’ve hit the alarm, because it went off.

  It startled Mom and Aunt Evelyn. Their fighting ceased while I scrambled to turn off the alarm.

  There were only three buttons on the key fob, but somehow it took me a full, ear-blasting minute to figure out which one actually turned off the alarm.

  Once it stopped, my sister took the fob from me and made sure the door was locked.

  “Let’s get you inside and ready for makeup,” Briana said.

  “We headed to the front door. Mom and Evelyn continued to argue, but Mom waved us on to go inside.

  My stomach churned, but there was no time to figure out what to do about the Aunt Evelyn/Celia situation.

  “I can’t believe she thinks she’s going to join the wedding party now,” Dar said. “This dress has been altered to fit me, and there is no way she’s going to get it.”

  “There’s no way she could fit into it now,” I said.

  “Another advantage to being tall,” Dar-dar said.

  “Did Celia even help with any of the wedding plans at all?” Phoebe asked.

  “She sent me a subscription to Big Beautiful Brides magazine,” I said.

  “She didn’t!” Briana said.

  “Oh yes she did,” I said. “They had some good stuff in there, but that’s the kind of thing that you buy for yourself. It’s not something someone subscribes you to.”

  “I’d give her a big beautiful fat lip,” Dar said.

  We all laughed.

  The makeup artist texted that she was outside. Dar went out to get her. Everyone told me to just stay in the master suite so that I didn’t worry about anything.

  “Put this on,” Briana said. She’d brought a cooling mask for me to wear to help me relax and to keep any under eye bags from showing. Always prepared.