by Liz Wolfe
“How many people? And what kind of food?” As Vince talked, he began sculpting the lump of pâté.
“About a hundred fifty guests, and Jasmine would like a cold buffet. Would that be a problem for you?” Vince’s hands moved confidently over the pâté, forming a rectangle, smoothing lumps, slicing off parts and then smoothing them back on.
“Oh, love, nothing will be a problem. Just let Vince take care of it. I’m thinking a lovely antipasto display, and a selection of dips—fresh hummus, a creamy spinach. I’ve got a wonderful recipe for mango salsa. It’s just to die for.”
I stepped back to avoid the spatter of pâté from Vince’s hands as he waved them around. He returned to the pâté sculpture while he rattled off more menu suggestions. With a few more strokes, the pile of pâté took on the form of an open book. Vince carefully sliced indentations into the edges to resemble pages, then picked up a large carrot and cut it in half. He deftly cut a thin curl off the carrot, nicked the ends into two points, and placed it on the sculpture, forming a perfect bookmark.
“I could provide a cold buffet for a hundred and fifty, with servers, for twenty-five a head. That doesn’t include desserts or beverages.”
I was sold. Vince could certainly perform miracles with food, and he was well within Jasmine’s budget. He opened the refrigerator and added the pâté sculpture to the incredible amount of food already stacked on the shelves.
“Did you do all that here?”
“Oh, no. Most of it I made at home. I have a much larger kitchen than Max, although his is rather nice, in a homey way. So what do you think about the wedding?”
“Done. Can we get together next week and go over the details?”
“Absolutely, love. Now you two need to get the hell out of my way so I can finish everything.” Vince pulled off the latex gloves, tossed them into the trash, and waved us out of the kitchen.
“Would you like a drink?” Max put a hand under my elbow and guided me out of the kitchen and back to the living room. The house was larger than I’d originally thought. The living room took up most of the first floor. The kitchen was closed off, accessible by a swinging door, the dining room occupied one end of the space and the opposite end held a neatly arranged office area.
“No, I’m driving. Water would be nice, though.”
“But you’re not driving for a while, right?”
“Actually, I need to get home soon. In case Bobbi Jo needs something.”
“Right. You’ve been staying with her since you left your husband.”
“How did you know that?”
“Oh, sorry. Lily talks a lot.” Max busied himself with pouring water into a glass and adding ice cubes.
“Yes, she certainly does.” I laughed, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. You can’t help knowing everything when Lily’s involved. Did she tell you Bobbi Jo is pregnant?”
“Quite a shock, from what I understand.” Max poured himself a glass of white wine and handed me the water.
“Especially to her.” I took the glass and smiled at him. “I just feel like I need to be there for her right now.”
“I understand. But surely she can do without you for a couple of hours. There’re some of the guests now.” Max set his wineglass down and walked to the double front doors, throwing them both open.
A small group entered, laughing, talking, kissing Max on both cheeks. If it hadn’t been for the super cool outfit Bobbi Jo had talked me into, I would have felt like a frumpy, middle-aged housewife. But I didn’t and it felt pretty good. Maybe I’d take Bobbi Jo shopping with me more often.
I chatted with Max’s guests if they approached me, but mostly I watched. I couldn’t tell the writers from the editors from the agents from the publishers from the ones who were just friends of his. Not that it mattered. But I noticed that a lot of them appeared to be gay. There were two women who had their arms around each other most of the time. One had bright blue hair plastered to her head with gel, the other had black hair with neon red spikes. Both wore leather pants, skintight tank tops with no bras, and lots of jewelry. There were several men in elegant casual outfits that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. I was definitely out of my element. But at least I didn’t look it.
“Sure you don’t want something stronger than water?” Max asked after shouldering his way through a group. I was still positioned next to the bar.
“No, thank you. I really have to be going soon.”
“Why? Bobbi Jo is probably fine without you.”
“I know, but—”
“How thoughtless of me. You probably aren’t really ready for socializing, are you? My partner left me about three years ago. We’d been together for five years and I had no idea it was coming.”
“Oh.” That explained a lot. Max was gay.
Max reached over and squeezed my hand. “It gets better. It really does. Just takes a while.”
“This has been great and I really appreciate you introducing me to Vince. He’s going to save me by catering this wedding. But I need to get going.”
“You sure? Vince hasn’t even brought out any of his masterpieces yet.” Max leaned over and whispered, “He likes to save the good stuff for later.”
“I have a lot to do tomorrow. Don’t tell Jasmine, but her wedding plans are in shambles.”
“Cross my heart.” Max made a cross over his chest. “Come on. I’ll see you out.”
“No, really. Stay with your guests. I’m parked almost at your front door.”
Max insisted on walking me to the door, opened it, and waited until I was in my car before he closed it. Nice guy. Maybe all the nice guys were gay. I chastised myself for the negative thought all the way back to Bobbi Jo’s house. I hated being bitter and suspicious. No, I hated Craig for making me bitter and suspicious.
The house was mostly dark when I pulled into the driveway. I opened the front door and only a couple of small lights were on in the living room. Sheridan had come home from school, as promised, but she’d decided to spend the night with a friend. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine before I turned in for the night.
“Hey, come join me out here,” Bobbi Jo called from the patio.
I took my wine out to the patio. Bobbi Jo was reclining in one of her chaises, sipping fruit juice. The patio was dark except for the lights in and around the pool and the two candles she’d lit on the table next to her.
“How was it?”
“Weird. Strange. I felt totally out of place.”
“You just need to get out more, darlin’.”
“Or stay in more. It was a very hip crowd. I think over half of them were gay.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem possible …”
“You weren’t there. I swear, Vince, the caterer, was gay, then all these people showed up. There was a lesbian couple, so many gay guys, I couldn’t count them. Even Max is gay.”
“No!”
“Truth.”
“Lily never mentioned him being gay.”
“Why would she?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Whatever.”
“I just think that you’re going through a phase. You think every man you meet is gay.”
I set my wineglass down and thought about that for a moment. I picked up the amber glass globe that held a lit candle and moved it under my chin, hoping it cast an eerie light on my face. “I see gay people everywhere,” I said in a hoarse whisper. Bobbi Jo laughed and waved her hand at me.
“Sometimes they don’t even know they’re gay.”
“Oh, gawd! You are too much, Skye. But I still say it’s just an overreaction.”
Was it? I didn’t think so.
CHAPTER TEN
By Wednesday, the Blue Wedding was under control. Bobbi Jo’s enormous dining room table held a variety of plastic bins with color-coded folders containing schedules, contact
lists, pictures, estimates, confirmations, and notes. I knew exactly when everything would happen, where it would happen, who had to be there, what it would cost, and who was doing it. I took a moment to sit back and admire my handiwork. Mine and Sean’s, to be truthful.
“Oh, excuse me. I need to take this.” Sean glanced at his cell phone display. “It’s Mr. McLaughlin.”
I watched Sean from the dining room. He was short and slender and always immaculately dressed. He’d been delighted to help when Bobbi Jo had asked him. We’d spent the last two days going through every scrap of paper and making phone calls. He was a whiz at getting things organized, and he wasn’t afraid to use his position at McLaughlin-Melrose Corp. to persuade people to do his bidding.
I still thought he had a crush on Bobbi Jo. His eyes followed her when she was in the room, and if she was out of the room, he found a reason to go find her. He’d seemed almost angry when he’d heard about Bobbi Jo’s pregnancy, but he’d covered his reaction before she realized it. I supposed it was understandable that he wouldn’t be thrilled to discover her pregnancy if he had a crush on her, but there was something about his reaction that bothered me. Maybe it was because he was a smarmy little creep.
I watched him standing at the kitchen window and knew he was watching Bobbi Jo on the patio while he talked on the phone. I didn’t think she had any idea that he was suffering from puppy love. Maybe I should point it out to her.
“This investigation has everyone on edge,” he said when he came back.
“Yes, it does.”
“Mr. McLaughlin wanted to know where some of the financial records were about a takeover deal he and Edward were working on. Evidently that detective looked into some of the finances of the business and thinks that Mr. McLaughlin had a motive to kill Edward.” Sean rubbed at a small white spot on his left cheekbone.
“Really?”
“They’d been working on buying out this small company for months. But MMC Industries didn’t have the cash flow to purchase them outright. Edward wasn’t really involved in much of it, and I think Mr. McLaughlin was trying to get financing for the buyout. I guess the detective figured that was motive for him to kill Edward.”
“How much money was involved?”
“About eight million. That’s not a lot, but MMC has been a little overextended because of a deal that went sour last year.” His finger moved to rub the little scar again.
“I see.” That insurance policy would come in handy to Jimmy right now.
“Sean, did you know Edward’s first wife?”
“Charlotte? Sure. She and Edward were friends. He even helped her boyfriend out when his design firm was in trouble a few months ago.”
“How nice of him. What kind of help?”
“Edward helped him write up a business plan so he could get a loan. Saved his ass. Karl got the loan, expanded the business. He’s doing great now. Just got written up in Northwest People as one of Portland’s most successful businessmen.”
That pretty much cleared Charlotte and her boyfriend of any motive for murdering Edward.
“I think that pretty much covers everything,” Sean said, closing a folder.
“Yes, it does. I really appreciate all your help with this.” A car horn honked, and I walked into the living room to pull aside the drapes.
A bright red Mini Cooper with a white roof sat in the driveway. Sheridan tooted the horn again and got out of the car. I opened the door and walked out to meet her.
“Which one of your rich friends loaned you this?”
Sheridan paused to wipe a smudge from the side mirror, then grinned at me. “It’s mine. Isn’t it great?”
“Yours?”
“Dad just gave it to me.”
“Your dad?” Craig and I had discussed getting Sheridan a car. I’d been for it and he’d been against it. Of course, I’d been thinking more of an older, reliable, ugly car that would take her where she needed to go while not encouraging her friends to suggest joyrides. Not this shiny new Mini Cooper for her to zip around in. Craig had insisted that Sheridan should earn the money for her own car if she wanted one. He didn’t mind her borrowing mine after she got her license, but he insisted that buying her own car would give her a sense of responsibility. I always suspected that he wasn’t crazy about the sense of independence and freedom she’d get from having her own wheels.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sheridan admired the shiny red and white car.
“Sheridan, I’m astounded.”
“Oh, I know Dad only did it because he feels guilty about the divorce.”
She knew that? When had my little girl grown up? When had she become mature enough to figure out motives? Especially parental motives. Not that Craig had any claim to subtlety.
“But I think I should enjoy it while it lasts. He’ll settle down soon and it’ll be back to me begging for everything.”
Now she could predict his future actions. Probably with a great deal of accuracy, too. “Has he talked to you?”
“About being gay? Yeah. We discussed it last weekend. It’s cool. I think he was relieved that I didn’t freak out on him. Like half the guys I know aren’t gay. I’m into performing arts, after all.”
“No doubt. Did you tell him you already knew?”
“Are you kidding, Mom? No way. For one thing, it would have just made him feel bad, and for another, there’s more guilt involved if I don’t.”
“You are a mercenary and manipulative child.” I put my arm around her and squeezed, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“Yeah, I’m proud of me, too,” Sheridan joked but returned the hug. My cell phone chirped and I released her to answer it.
“Hi, Jasmine. I just went over all the plans. Everything is set. We’re totally organized.”
“Wedding favors,” Jasmine wailed.
“What about them?” I searched my mind for some memory of wedding favors and came up blank.
“I just remembered that we don’t have any. How could I have overlooked wedding favors?”
“Stay calm, Jasmine. We’ll think of something.” I had no idea what. The wedding was less than two weeks away. Not enough time to order anything personalized, but surely we could come up with something.
“Can you come over?”
“I’ll be there soon.” I closed the cell phone. “I need to go over to Jasmine’s. Evidently she forgot to do anything about wedding favors.”
“Cool. I’ll drive you. I haven’t seen Jasmine in a long time.” Sheridan jumped in the car and started the engine. I ran inside to get my bag and master folder.
“Sean, I have to go over to Jasmine’s. Evidently she forgot about wedding favors. Do you want to come and meet her?”
“Oh, no, thanks. I have some things I need to take care of. I can meet her later.”
“Okay. Tell Bobbi Jo I’ll be back in a while.”
“Sure.”
I tucked the folder into my bag and headed out to the car. Sheridan turned the music down and put the car into gear. She was a competent driver, and I had to give Craig credit for that. I’d been useless at teaching her to drive, but Craig had excelled at it and spent a lot of hours in the car with her, making sure she would be a cautious and responsible driver.
I felt tears well in my eyes. Anger and resentment fought their way through me, vying for top position. How dare Craig ruin our lives this way? We’d had a really, really good life and he’d ruined it all. He’d wasted almost twenty years of my life and made Sheridan a child of divorce. And even if she could joke about it, I still believed it had to hurt her. I glanced at my beautiful, talented, intelligent daughter. She seemed to be handling it fairly well. A new car could soothe a lot of ragged emotions in an eighteen-year-old. I let the anger storm for a few more minutes and finally had to admit that Sheridan was fine. She wasn’t harboring any resentment toward her father. Why would she? She’d known about him for some time now.
No, the problem was me. Rather, my reaction to the situation. It
was my life that had been turned upside down. I was the one who didn’t have a clue what my future held, had no idea how I would support myself, where I would live, who I would grow old with. I’d devoted myself to Craig and Sheridan and our home, secure in the knowledge that Craig and I would grow old together. We’d babysit our grandchildren, travel together after he retired, and eventually settle into our old age wrapped in the warmth of shared memories. Now none of that would happen, and I had no dream to replace it with.
The past few weeks, I’d been keeping myself busy. Between the wedding plans and Bobbi Jo’s pregnancy and worrying about the murder investigation, I’d managed to keep my emotions tamped down. I’d kept the fear and anger at bay. Now everything was bubbling to the surface. Sheridan continued to chatter about her life at school while I tried to sort through my emotions. Was I really angry at Craig? Or was I just afraid of being on my own? I didn’t really blame him. Maybe for marrying me in the first place. But it’s not like he could choose his sexual identity. He couldn’t stop being gay in order to make my life easier. No, the sad fact was that I was just feeling sorry for myself.
“Mom?”
I looked over at Sheridan, surprised to find we were parked in front of Lily’s house. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about the wedding plans.”
“You know, it’s really cool that you’re doing this for Jasmine. Besides, it’ll give you practice for when you do my wedding.”
“I hope that doesn’t happen for a long time.”
“Mom!”
“You’re only eighteen, Sheridan. Why would you even be thinking about marriage?” I stopped halfway up the walkway and clutched her arm. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
Sheridan laughed, and if I didn’t know better I’d have thought she was enjoying torturing me. “Well, there is this guy I’ve gotten to know in the play.” She must have interpreted the look of horror on my face accurately. “Relax, Mom. We haven’t even gone out yet. You know, it’s kind of natural for girls to think about their wedding.”
“I know. I just don’t like to think that you’d get married before you finish your education and have a little time to enjoy yourself.”