Or a fairy godmother. Other than a few small glitches, the wedding had been a success. Celeste left the front desk and went in the direction that Bill had taken earlier. As she passed the gym entrance, she glanced through the plate glass windows that spread across the front wall of the room. She saw Kylie standing near a treadmill facing away from the door.
“No, I’ll be here until tomorrow,” she said to someone on the phone. “Because we’re going to a barbeque restaurant and bar in Blowing Rock tonight for dinner and dancing. It’s probably some hoe-down joint with straw on the floor.”
I shouldn’t be listening to this. Celeste moved to the other side of the hallway, but the acoustics in the gym amplified Kylie’s voice more than she might have realized.
“I don’t want to do a Zoom call. The wi-fi here is spotty. This place is located somewhere between the boondocks and the middle-of-nowhere.”
Kylie paused while the person on the other end of the call responded. Celeste fought the urge to be offended. She remembered Bill’s comment that the hotel was ten miles out of town. But it’s less than one mile off of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Howard had assured her when they’d bought the place that the BRP would bring in a steady flow of business.
“She worked here in college,” Kylie continued. “Maybe, she’s going to throw the old man off the Mile High Swinging Bridge. Make it look like an accident…like her first husband. I just hope Wes can persuade her to sign those papers tonight. He told me that he’s afraid she’s having second thoughts. She nearly bit my head off when I approached her about it.”
Kylie made a quarter turn toward the door, and Celeste darted from her line of vision. She retreated into the restroom for a few minutes. Kylie’s words had caused a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. I pity Emma for marrying into that family. I hope Wes can make her happy enough that the other Carlyles’ opinions won’t matter.
Once she felt the coast was clear, she entered the hallway again and made her way to the kitchen. Through the storm door, she spotted Bill outside talking to Renee who had set up a smaller tent next to her van as a staging area. Steve took pictures of the dishes while Renee placed them on the table.
Celeste’s stomach growled when she saw the Waldorf chicken salad on a bed of lettuce. She could almost taste the combination of apple chunks, grapes, pecans, and shredded chicken. She removed from the freezer one of the microwave meals that she usually had for lunch. She popped it into the appliance and took another gander outside. She spied two figures behind the lattice screen that concealed the hotel dumpsters. Who is that? They shouldn’t be there. She edged closer to the window. Her breath caught at the sight of Bill and Kylie with their hands all over one another kissing the way lovers kiss. Behind the dumpster of all places.
The black and white picture flickered on the screen, and Celeste munched on chips and salsa. Perry Mason grilled a witness in the case of a man accused of poisoning his wife’s medicine so that he could run off with the housekeeper. As much as she tried to stay interested in the episode, she couldn’t get Kylie’s phone conversation off of her mind let alone the kiss she’d witnessed between Kylie and Bill. The woman had said such nasty things about her stepmother-in-law and there she was kissing a man who wasn’t her husband. I suppose I could’ve misinterpreted what I saw. After thirty years of marriage and experiencing all of the different stages of a kiss, she wasn’t mistaken. To think, I had dreamed that Bill had an affair with Jessica. My subconscious chose the wrong sister-in-law.
Celeste woke up her laptop and double-clicked the internet browser. I should’ve done this before I signed a contract with Bill. She typed his name in the search bar. His PR firm’s website and his LinkedIn profile were the top two listings. She selected the second one where she could peruse his resumé. He’s a 2000 graduate of ASU. Why does that strike a chord with me? She clicked on his website and selected the pull-down menu under ‘Clients’. Her lips parted, and she drew in a short breath. Belle’s Custom Formals appeared near the top of the alphabetical listing. Okay, now I’m just going crazy. It’s all coincidental. Why would Bill arrange to have Emma's wedding gown stolen?
Before going out for the evening, Emma had delivered Amy’s gown to Celeste and expressed many thanks for coming to her rescue. Emma seemed like a nice person. And, losing her first husband in an accident…But Kylie had even intimated in her phone conversation that Emma had somehow caused the accident. Why would Kylie introduce Emma to her father-in-law—as Missy had suggested—if she had those suspicions?
The ringing phone interrupted her thoughts. She set the laptop on the coffee table, turned down the volume on the television, and reached for the phone receiver.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Adams,” her night clerk’s voice sounded through the receiver.
Something in his tone sounded an alarm.
“Yes, Richard, is there a problem?”
“Ma’am, you’d better come over to the hotel. We’ve had to call nine-one-one.”
Celeste jumped to her feet. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter 5
Celeste wanted to run to the hotel but even on a well-lighted path, she feared she might stumble and fall. Instead, she walked at a brisk pace. I hope no one is seriously ill or injured. I'm glad that I pay the hotel's liability insurance a year in advance. She unlocked the kitchen door and took the hallway straight to the reception desk.
“What happened?” she asked Richard.
Like Maddie, the tall, slim man, was a college student. His shift would end in five minutes at midnight. At that time, an automated system would take over. While guests could use their room keys to gain entrance to the front door, non-guests utilized a video doorbell that rang to the security center in her cottage. It was another reason she’d considered moving into one of the suites. During the last winter storm, she’d had to trudge through the snow at one o’clock in the morning to check in a stranded motorist who needed lodging.
“The Carlyles came in fifteen minutes ago,” Richard said. “He wasn’t feeling well, and a few minutes later, Mrs. Carlyle called down to the desk and asked for an ambulance. She was crying, and I had trouble understanding her.”
Through the front windows, she could see the ambulance’s flashing lights turning into the driveway.
“We have four Carlyle couples. Which one is sick?”
“The call came from the honeymoon suite,” he said.
Her heart sank. The memory of Wes being diabetic popped into her head. I hope he’s okay. She propped both of the double doors open for the ambulance crew to bring in a stretcher.
“They’re on the fourth floor. I’ll take you up,” she told one of the EMTs.
The elevator was a tight squeeze for herself, two EMTs, and a stretcher. When it stopped and the doors slid apart, Celeste saw Roger and Jessica standing in the hall outside the suite. She pointed the EMTs in that direction, and she ambled over to where Roger was standing.
“How is your father?”
He loosened the dark green tie he was wearing with his white dress shirt. “I don’t know, yet,” he said. “In the car on the way back here, he said that he felt like his blood sugar was low.”
“Someone had better check his insulin to make sure no one tampered with it,” Jessica said under her breath.
Roger jerked around and waved his finger in her face. “Say that one more time, Jessica.”
Her eyes rolled to one side, and she stomped off to the elevator. Once Jessica had boarded the car and the doors closed, Roger turned to Celeste.
“Emma said that they had plenty of food in the suite and thinking that he’d be okay once he ate something, Jessica and I went to our room. Then, Emma called and said that he’d passed out, and she couldn’t bring him around.”
Celeste’s heartbeat sped up, and she laid a hand against her chest. “Try not to worry,” she said.
The elevator doors dinged and the other two couples appeared.
“We saw the ambulance downstairs a
nd the desk clerk told us that the EMTs were here,” Tom said.
“Yeah,” Roger said. “It’s dad.”
Tom’s lips parted to speak, but a woman’s scream stopped him. One of the two EMTs emerged from the suite.
“Are all of you family?” he asked.
Celeste’s throat tightened, remembering the last time she’d heard those words spoken. She took a step backward.
“You’d better come in,” the EMT continued.
While the family filed into the room, Celeste stayed out in the hall.
“You’re not going in?” the EMT asked.
“No, I’m not family,” she said. “I own this hotel.”
“Oh, well, you shouldn’t have any liability here,” he said.
As if that matters right now. Her only thought was one of sympathy for Emma and Wes’s sons.
“The family might want to have an autopsy performed,” he continued.
She clutched her sweater in her fist. “So, he’s dead?”
“Yes, ma’am. From his coloring and the symptoms the wife described before he became unconscious, it sounds like a stroke to me. We’ll take the body to the emergency room to be examined by a physician who will also sign the death certificate.”
She nodded along with the EMT as he was speaking. She extracted her phone from her pocket and keyed in the number for the front desk.
“Richard, you don’t need to wait around,” she said.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Go ahead and take off. I’ll take care of everything here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After a few minutes, the family appeared in the hallway again. The boys patted each other on the back and maintained their composure. She recalled her observation from the day she’d met them that they weren’t a family of huggers. Celeste caught a glimpse of Emma in her royal blue, cocktail dress. She sat on the coffee table next to the sofa holding on to Wesley’s hand and murmuring words of love to him. The lump in Celeste’s throat grew to the size of a golf ball and choked off her voice. She swallowed and stepped inside the room.
“Emma, I want you to bring your overnight bag and come stay with me in my cottage,” she said.
Emma’s gaze didn’t leave her husband’s face. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But I don’t want to impose on you. I can drive to Lenoir.”
“It’s not an imposition,” Celeste said. “And you don’t need to be on the road by yourself at this time of night.”
I wish her sister hadn't gone home. Beverly and Ryan Douglas had checked out earlier in the day and returned to Winston-Salem. Emma’s brother, Nathan had accompanied their parents to Lenoir after the wedding luncheon.
Emma moved away from the sofa to allow the EMTs to complete their job. Celeste placed an arm around her shoulders. At that moment, she was flooded with memories of Howard’s death and could hardly keep from crying. This isn’t about my grief. I have to be strong and in control.
“I’ll accompany dad’s body to the hospital,” Roger said. “And take care of calling the funeral home in Charlotte.”
“Thank you,” Emma whispered.
One of the emergency workers handed a clipboard to Emma. “As his next of kin, I need your signature on these forms.”
“Next of kin? We’ve only been married for twelve hours,” she said. Tears poured down her cheeks. “I can’t even see to write.”
Celeste grabbed some tissues from the coffee table. Emma wiped her eyes, and her hand shook as she scrawled a barely legible signature.
One by one, the three sons came over to Emma and offered their condolences. The EMTs wheeled the stretcher from the room, and Emma followed her late bridegroom’s body as far as the elevator. Roger squeezed Emma’s shoulder before he departed with them. Celeste realized that Kylie and Missy were no longer present. Have they already gone to their rooms?
Celeste accompanied Emma into the suite’s bedroom and waited while she packed a few necessities and a change of clothes into the smaller of two matching red suitcases that she removed from the closet. Near the bathroom door, a black suitcase sat upright on its wheels with the handle still extended. That one must belong to Wes. Immediately following the luncheon, he’d moved from his standard room on the third floor to join Emma in the honeymoon suite. Emma went to the bathroom to collect a few toiletries. She also picked up a prescription bottle on the edge of the vanity.
She showed it to Celeste before dropping it into her bag. “I take a prescription drug for rapid heartbeat,” she said. “It began after Dave died, and I think it was just all the stress I was under, but the doctor wanted me to take this.”
“Where is Wes’s medicine?”
“Oh, I gave it to one of the paramedics. I guess he took it with him.”
Emma whisked a book off of the bedside table into her bag. Celeste caught sight of some folded papers protruding from it. On the way out of the bedroom, Emma grabbed her purse and a lace shawl from the arm of the sofa. She draped the shawl around her bare shoulders and scanned the room from one side to the other as if memorizing every detail.
“I’m ready to go,” she whispered.
Emma cried all the way to the cottage, and Celeste didn’t attempt to stop her.
“Please tell me that this is a nightmare, and I’m going to wake up any minute,” Emma said.
Celeste gripped her hand. “I wish I could, Emma.”
“I can’t believe that I’ve lost two husbands. At least, Dave and I had twenty years together. I never imagined that I would lose Wes on our wedding night.”
Emma’s posture collapsed like an accordion, and Celeste grabbed her around the waist to hold her upright.
“We’re almost to the front door. Just a few more steps. Put one foot in front of the other.”
Celeste was thankful for the LED lights that Howard had installed along the path. She removed her key from the pocket of the big sweater she’d pulled on over her pajama top before she’d dashed over to the hotel.
“When we get inside, I’ll make hot buttered rum for us. It will calm your nerves and help you go to sleep.”
“Neither one of us drank at the restaurant,” she said. “We both had diet colas. He was diabetic, but he ate a good meal, and I saw him take his medicine before we left the hotel. Thank God, we were riding with Roger and Jessica because Wes started to feel weak as we were leaving the restaurant. If he’d had that stroke while he was driving…” Her voice trailed off.
Celeste unlocked her front door and ushered Emma inside. Canned laughter from an old sitcom greeted them. In her haste to leave, she hadn’t turned off the television. She pressed the off button on the remote.
“Have a seat,” Celeste said. “And I’ll make that drink.”
Celeste checked her spice rack. She didn’t have nutmeg. I’ll just have to make it without that ingredient. She put two cups of water onto boil while she took the butter and honey from the refrigerator.
“I need to call Beverly, but I’ll wait until I have my thoughts together,” Emma said. “She and Ryan couldn’t stay for dinner. One of the girls had a dance recital this evening.” Her voice choked, and she used the tissue to wipe her eyes. “She’s not going to believe this.”
“Were your bridesmaids Beverly’s daughters?” Celeste asked.
“Two were Beverly’s and two were Nathan’s. His daughters go to school here. They had dinner with us tonight, but they returned to the apartment they share in Boone before the rest of us left the restaurant. Oh, God…They need to be told, too.”
Her forehead dropped against her fisted hands as if she might be praying. Celeste opened the cabinet under the kitchen island and grabbed an almost full bottle of rum. Howard liked a taste of rum every now and then, but she wasn’t a drinker. She mainly used it for cooking her son’s favorite cake at Christmas. Tonight, she needed a mug for herself as well as Emma.
She used a cinnamon stick to stir the warm ingredients and poured two large, ceramic mugs full
of the concoction. She handed one of the mugs to Emma and sat in the recliner next to the sofa—a spot she didn’t occupy often because that was Howard’s chair. He used to sit in that chair and binge-watch his favorite shows on The History Channel. That was on the rare days he took off from working around the hotel.
“Thank you,” Emma said. She drank a sip and gave Celeste a thumbs-up gesture. “This is good.”
“It was my husband’s favorite drink,” she said.
Emma slipped off her shoes and stretched out on the sofa. “We have something in common, don’t we?”
Celeste nodded. “But I’ve only lost one husband, and I can’t even imagine how you feel right now.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m numb. I’m not sure how or what to feel. It’s still as if I’m slogging through a bad dream.”
“Well, I can relate to that feeling. You’re in shock. Would you like for me to call your sister and your parents and tell them what’s happened?”
“That’s so nice of you. We’ve only recently met each other, and yet, you’re treating me better than…” She paused and shook her head. “I shouldn’t say what I was thinking.”
It didn’t take much deductive reasoning to guess that she’d been referring to Wes’s sons and daughters-in-law. I still can’t get over how the three women deserted their husbands at their father’s deathbed.
“After this drink calms my nerves, I’ll call Beverly in a few minutes, and she’ll inform the others for me,” Emma said. She downed another sip of it. “With Dave, I went into shock when the doctor told me that they’d done everything they could for him, and he wasn’t going to make it. I was so dazed that I can’t remember anything that happened for the next few hours. He lived for two days and by then, I was in a better place to be able to handle it.” She moved the cinnamon stick around the mug in a circular motion. “I’ve never stopped blaming myself for his accident. He wouldn’t have been on that street at that time if I hadn’t been working late on a project and asked him to run an errand for me.” She held the cup against her cheek as if she found its warmth soothing. “How did your husband die, Mrs. Adams?”
Mrs. Carlyle's Second Honeymoon Page 5