I gulped down my drink and nodded, afraid to say another word on the subject. I savored the smooth, fiery Scotch while silently cursing Sage for putting me in Rosemary’s crosshairs.
Chapter 4
Rosemary
Dave and I pulled into the resort’s circular driveway in near-total darkness. Our flight from LAX had been delayed. Then there’d been storms over Illinois with lots of stomach-jostling turbulence. By the time we rented a car at Newark Airport and pointed it toward the Seashore area, I was drained and cranky.
As soon as the car bumped off the highway and onto resort property, I felt my tension melting away. That was the thing about Tranquility, the Resort by the Sea. Despite its warts, it held a definite, palpable magic. I buzzed down my window to drink in the salty night air. Then I turned to Dave to see if he felt it, too.
“Look at that,” he exclaimed, pointing to the front garden. Hundreds and hundreds of fireflies flitted through the high grass and native plants, their bioluminescent tails glowing like tiny, flickering lanterns in the night.
I grinned. Oh, yeah, he felt it, too.
“I hope the fireflies will come out for the wedding. They’re so wild and delicately beautiful at the same time.”
“Just like you,” he said in a deep voice that caught in his throat.
My pulse quickened. Before I could respond, the sconces on both sides of the wide oak front door came to life, and Sage, Thyme, and their boyfriends poured out onto the wraparound porch, trailed by the family cat. Sage was clutching a bottle of wine, and Thyme held a tray of glasses.
“I think we’re about to be toasted and fêted,” I said.
He parked the car and smiled at me. “I can’t think of a better way to kick off our wedding weekend, can you?”
I kissed him softly. “I can’t think of a better way to kick off our life together.”
We got out of the car to shouts of greeting and good wishes. My eyes filled with joyful tears. Everything was perfect. Or nearly so.
Chapter 5
Sage
I was perched on a stool watching Rosemary assemble a massive salad. I’d offered to help her, but she’d shooed me away with the corner of her apron as if she were a farmer’s wife and I were a chicken. According to her, it would be quicker if she did it herself. “I’m still not sure what made you decide to cater your own wedding,” I mused as I eyed the tray of cheese, nuts, and olives on the counter.
As if on cue, my stomach growled. I just needed her to turn around to get something out of the refrigerator so I could snag a handful of munchies without getting caught. But she must’ve been using her oldest sister insight to guess what I had in mind because she hadn’t turned her back to me at any point in the past ten minutes.
“Don’t be so dramatic—I’m only catering the rehearsal lunch. And the reason it’s a good idea is because it saves us a ton of money.”
I frowned. It seemed unfair that Rosemary’s big day had such strong budgetary constraints surrounding it. But the truth was, the resort hadn’t been doing great. We’d spent so much money paying off the debt we’d inherited that we had very little leftover for upkeep and improvements to the property, and it was starting to show. So, as one-third co-owner, I was glad she was funneling her spare cash into the resort and not her wedding. But still.
She caught my eye and smiled as though she could tell what I was thinking—again.
“It’s fine,” she insisted as she whisked oil, herbs, and red wine vinegar in a big glass bowl, her arm moving so quickly that her hand was a blur. “To be honest, I find it very relaxing. Focusing on the menu is warding off any pre-wedding jitters.”
That actually made a good bit of sense. Rosemary did seem to approach cooking with a meditative bent. But, while she may have been having tomorrow’s meal catered, she had insisted she was making her own wedding cake. She’d gone and dug out some recipe of our mom’s that I didn’t even remember—and I’m the family historian.
“Are you nervous?”
“Only about whether the cake’s going to turn out.” She laughed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to farm out the cake? Pretty Pastries over in Ocean Dunes would squeeze in a rush order for you. They’d be happy to do it.”
Rosemary waved away my concern with her hand.
“Have you even ever made this honeysuckle lavender concoction before?” I asked, taking one last shot.
“I was just kidding about being worried about it. It’ll be a piece of cake. Ha ha. Get it?”
I shook my head. Rosemary was the stubborn one. There was no sense arguing with her. My stomach rumbled again. I decided to risk her wrath and popped an olive into my mouth. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything.
I decided a change of subject was in order. “So how’s Dave? Getting excited?”
Her fiancé wasn’t really the excitable type. But Rosemary brought out the boyish side of the straight-laced homicide detective. He’d been roaming around the resort, laughing and slapping people on their backs good-naturedly.
“I think so. I hope so. He’s got to pick up the officiant before the rehearsal lunch but right now he’s probably having a blast with Roman and Victor.”
I gave her a blank look. My boyfriend had been gone when I’d woken up, and I hadn’t the faintest idea where he’d gone. “Why? What are they doing?”
“They left early to do some deep sea fishing. Roman didn’t want to wake you because you never get to sleep late.”
I smiled. Roman was the best. I loved being a nanny, but the early morning hours were a definite drawback to my job. So when I got the chance to sleep in, I made it a point to take advantage of it.
“I’m glad the three of them get along.” I couldn’t imagine if my boyfriend didn’t like my sisters’ significant others. Can you say ‘deal breaker?’
Rosemary nodded, focused on composing her salad. “Me, too.” She kept talking, not looking up, half to herself, half to me. “So I need to do my final fitting after lunch,” she told me.
As co-maid of honor I had been in charge of coordinating with the seamstress. I wrinkled my forehead at her. I definitely hadn’t scheduled a fitting for the bride the day of the rehearsal. I pulled out my phone to check my calendar. “I thought you already had a final fitting.”
She nodded a yes and tasted her dressing before answering me. “I did. But I think the stress has caught up with me. I may have dropped a pound or two.”
“Stress?” She’d just said she wasn’t nervous.
“Excitement,” she corrected herself.
Rosemary was known to forget to eat during times of high stress. It was not a problem I personally had, as I seemed to be able to remember to eat no matter what was happening in my life. But if Rosie had been under pressure, she’d probably dropped more than a pound or two.
I regarded her carefully. Her elbows were looking particularly sharp and bony, but I decided not to point it out—I was afraid she might jab me in the side with one of them.
“Thyme and I will go with you. What time is Chelle expecting you to come in?”
“She said she’d come here so I don’t have to drag the dress into town.”
“That’s nice of her,” I said.
“It is. So I invited her to join us for lunch. We can do the fitting right after we finish up with the meal.”
That was also like Rosemary. She loved to feed people. Before I could ask her just how many extra guests she’d invited to this rehearsal lunch, my co-maid of honor, our youngest sister Thyme, burst through the doorway into the kitchen, out of breath and wild-eyed.
Chapter 6
Thyme
I hustled into the big kitchen out of breath and flustered because I was running so late. I must’ve slammed the door harder than I’d intended because Rosemary wheeled around to stare at me as I entered.
I noted that Sage took advantage of the distraction to steal a handful of cheese and nuts from the nearest tray—a risky move, if you asked me. Rosem
ary had been very clear: she’d bought just enough food for the rehearsal luncheon. I gave Sage a warning look. She shrugged her shoulders and made a sheepish face.
“Is everything okay?” she asked me around a mouthful of cheddar.
I cut my eyes toward Rosemary before I answered.
As the youngest sister I’d had the fewest responsibilities with regard to wedding planning. Sage had taken on a lot of the work and Rosemary, being Rosemary, had done a lot of it herself. But one of my jobs—probably my most important job—was to handle the venue issues. You’d think it would be an easy job since we owned the venue.
Yet, here I was, thirty-six hours before the wedding ceremony was set to take place, bearing bad news. I filled my lungs with air and then blurted, “I guess there’s been some sort of miscommunication with Kay.”
“What kind of miscommunication?” Rosemary wanted to know. She didn’t look up at me but kept slicing through the cucumbers from the resort’s sprawling vegetable garden in a fast, even rhythm.
“I’m really not sure how it happened. I thought I was crystal clear with Kay that she shouldn’t book any reservations this weekend. Even though we don’t need all the rooms for the guests, I thought it would be nicer if you had the resort to yourself. You know, for privacy.”
Rosemary nodded her agreement, which was no surprise. She was a very private person. And, Kay, the sweetest lady you’d ever want to meet, had known us forever, loved us like daughters, and understood Rosie’s reserved personality. Plus, Kay was usually a super-competent reservations manager. But, here we were.
“Kay booked a couple in the garden cottage. A Mr. and Mrs. Simon. I just happened to be coming back from checking on the tent set up when I saw them at the registration desk. They’re ornithology buffs. They’re here to do some bird watching, according to Kay. I tried to catch them to tell them there’s a family function going on this weekend. But they hustled off to their room really quickly before I had a chance to speak to them.”
I’d really tried, too, but they had virtually sprinted out of the building when I called their names. I looked from one of my sisters to the other, trying to gauge their reactions.
“I could stop by the cottage and offer to book them in the bed and breakfast in town on our dime?” I suggested. I didn’t know what else to do.
Rosemary seemed to be considering the idea, but Sage was the one who answered.
“No, don’t do that. It’s not worth risking the bad review on the travel websites. It was an honest mistake, and it’s just one older couple. How much of a disruption or distraction could they really be? Especially if they’re off bird watching in the marshes. Just let it go, Thyme.”
Rosemary puffed out a breath before adding her agreement. “She’s right.”
I exhaled, relieved that they weren’t angry at the oversight. Then I tilted my head and looked at our middle sister. “How did you know they were an older couple?”
Sage gave me a long, blank look. Rosemary paused. The Parmesan cheese she was shaving over the salad hovered in the air as she waited to hear Sage’s answer.
After a moment, Sage blinked. “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed birding isn’t really a young person’s hobby,” she said in a hesitant voice.
“Well, you guessed right,” I told her.
Judging from the glimpse I’d had of their backs as they scurried through the lobby, the Simons seemed to be in their late sixties or so. It was hard to tell, though, with those big-brimmed hats they’d both been wearing.
“Besides, it’s not like we can’t use the money from the booking,” Rosemary continued, bringing the conversation back to the booking. “In fact, as long as we reserve the main house for the wedding guests, we might as well go ahead and tell Kay to open up the rest of the cottages for last-minute reservations, too.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Rosemary nodded.
I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll let Kay know.”
That conversation had gone more smoothly than I’d expected it to. I’d anticipated getting a lecture from Sage, at a minimum. But, I wasn’t going to argue with them. In fact, I was going to hightail it out of there before Rosemary changed her mind.
As I headed for the door, Sage called after me, “Hey, Thyme, Rosemary needs to have one final fitting. Chelle is going to come out and join us for the rehearsal lunch then put the finishing touches on Rosemary’s dress. So keep your late afternoon open if you want to be there.”
I had planned to take a walk along the beach with Victor and point out all my childhood haunts. But he seemed to be hitting it off with Dave and with Sage’s boyfriend Roman. The three of them could grab a beer or something while Chelle fussed over Rosemary’s dress.
I didn’t want to miss the fitting. It would be one last sisters-only event before Rosemary got married. Rosemary, married. I could hardly believe it was really happening. For the briefest second, I wished our parents could be there to see it, too. But I brushed the thought away before it even had a chance to fully form.
“Of course, I’ll be there. And, Sage, you might want to save some of those snacks for the appetizer table,” I added over my shoulder as I left.
I turned back in time to see Sage shooting me a dirty look. I had to laugh—between her cheeks stuffed full of nuts and her glare, she looked like a furious, demented squirrel.
Chapter 7
Rosemary
I stood under the old sycamore tree at the crest of the sloping hill in the backyard and gazed out at the sea grass and the Atlantic beyond. Twinkling lights had been wound through the tree limbs and would cast a magical, luminous glow over the ceremony tomorrow evening. Thyme had outdone herself, I thought. Between the lights and the mason jars filled with flowers, the backyard would look charming and inviting, in that tumbledown, beachside way it had. It was the perfect setting.
I inhaled the sea air and wondered what the hold up was. The rehearsal should have started ten minutes ago. While I waited, I ticked through my mental to-do list:
Wedding rehearsal.
Luncheon.
Final fitting.
Harvest herbs and flowers from the garden for wedding cake.
Bake, fill, and frost the cake.
Swing through the tent to make sure everything’s set for tomorrow.
Then, when I was done, I planned to reward myself with a long hot soak in the scented bath salts Sage had left in my room. I’d picked my suite especially for the deep soaking tub with a view of the grounds and the ocean. I could almost feel my shoulders sinking into the warm bath water.
The sight of a figure out on the dunes interrupted my daydreaming. Someone was roaming around on our private beach.
I squinted into the late morning sun and frowned. The shape was a man. For a few seconds, I thought he might be one-half of the birding enthusiast couple, but then I noticed his business suit. It seemed unlikely that a bird watcher would be out on the beach in a suit. Frankly, it seemed weird for anyone to choose business attire for a walk along the shore. What was he doing out there?
Before I could come up with a plausible explanation, Sage and Thyme materialized beside me.
They’d been talking to Marie, our childhood piano teacher, who was also an accomplished harpist. No doubt they were hammering out some last-minute music decision. I’d left the music up to Dave and my sisters to work out.
“You all set?” Sage asked, her voice quavering with emotion.
In answer, I smiled and hooked one of my arms through her elbow and the other through Thyme’s. Not only were my sisters my maids of honor, they were also my escorts for the trip down the aisle. I’d have been fine to make the walk alone, but they’d insisted.
Marie plucked her opening chords and the three of us stepped forward onto the path. It was a warm day, but the salted breeze coming up from the ocean was cool and refreshing.
We reached the gazebo, covered with wildflowers out of deference to Thyme’s fierce floral allergy. Dave stood beneath the
canopy of wisteria, trillium, and violets and grinned at me. Sage and Thyme fell back a step and I placed my hand on Dave’s arm, almost not believing that in a day and a half he’d be my husband.
He kissed my cheek and whispered, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you smell like grouper,” I whispered back.
It was true. I was also still thinking about the stranger on the beach. He seemed out of place and oddly menacing.
Beside me, Dave tried to choke back his laughter at my crack about him smelling fishy. He failed miserably and ended up sputtering loudly.
Reverend Mark, Dave’s childhood friend, who’d flown in from his church in Michigan to officiate our ceremony, gave us both a stern look. I’d only met Mark a handful of times, but I knew him well enough to know the disapproval was mostly for show. After all, this was the man who’d left a whoopee cushion on my chair at Christmas dinner with the entire Drummond family. He was the perfect person to join us in matrimony.
Mark cleared his throat and began to walk us through how the ceremony would go. I resisted the urge to turn around and scan the beach behind us. Dave grabbed my hand and held it tightly while Mark talked. I smiled into his brown eyes.
I tried to put the man on the beach out of my mind and shake off the cloud of worry threatening to settle around my shoulders. He was nobody.
Unless, of course, he was somebody—somebody sent by the Atlantic City loan shark who had a grudge against my parents; somebody sent by Alayna, the sociopath who’d killed one of my clients and had tried to pin it on me; somebody connected to one of the dozens of killers Dave had brought to justice during his years as a homicide detective.
Stop it, I told myself. Herk the Jerk is out of the picture. Alayna is in a women’s prison near Sacramento. And you are literally thousands of miles away from the LAPD and its cast of criminals. That guy is just some random weirdo looking for shells. There’s nothing ominous about him.
It might have been easier to dismiss him if both of my sisters hadn’t also had recent brushes with the criminal underbelly of society. What if he was connected to the blackmailing scandal that had unfolded at the golf club where Roman and Sage’s boss was a member? Or what if he was connected to Victor’s sister’s ex-husband, who was, by all reports, a violent—scratch that, murderous—corrupt ex-police officer. Heck, among the three of us, Sage, Thyme, and I had probably had enough mortal enemies to fill one entire table at the reception.
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