If It's Not One Thing, It's a Murder

by Liz Wolfe

  “You got married at nineteen.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

  Jasmine opened the door and hurried us into the sunroom, jabbering excitedly all the way. Max was standing there holding a champagne flute.

  “Hi, Max. This is my daughter, Sheridan.”

  They greeted each other while Jasmine continued to chatter behind us. I decided I’d better find out what she was talking about and turned my attention to her.

  “So, then Max tells me that he has the perfect solution for the wedding favors.”

  Max held up the champagne flute and I could see that it was filled with candle wax.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Jasmine asked. “And he said we could add some flowers to the candle wax and make the wax blue so it’ll go with the rest of the wedding. Then every guest will have a candle to take home with them.”

  I took the glass that Max held out and looked at it. “It’s a fine idea. I think adding some flowers would be nice and we can tie a ribbon around each one.” The candle was very nice and it seemed a logical and simple solution to Jasmine’s latest panic. I looked up at Max. “Do you know anything about making candles?”

  “Actually, I made this one. For my sister’s wedding. I could use some help, though. We’ll need a lot of them.”

  “I can help,” Sheridan offered. “I’m not due back at school until Sunday.”

  “I knew I had a kid for a reason.” I grinned at Sheridan. “What all do we need?” I asked Max.

  “A champagne flute for each guest, candle wax, wicks, ribbons, and the flowers.”

  “I can get the champagne flutes from a wholesaler that mom uses,” Jasmine offered.

  “Sheridan, if I give you a list of items, can you get the candle-making supplies and the ribbons at the craft store?” Max asked.

  “Sure. I have a car now.” Sheridan beamed.

  “Then you and I will pick up the flowers at the Flower Mart,” Max said to me. He sat down to write out a detailed list for Sheridan while Jasmine called her mother about the wholesaler.

  “Okay, Mom. Thanks. Tell them I’ll be there in half an hour. Oh, hold on, there’s another call coming through.” Jasmine clicked over to the other call and listened. I watched as her face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her lower lip trembled. She sniffled and nodded while she listened.

  Dread crawled up my spine. This could not be good news. Jasmine hung up the phone, evidently forgetting that her mother was still holding the line for her.

  “The band just cancelled. My wedding’s ruined.”

  “You’re amazing.” I stopped inside the Flower Mart and looked at the rows and rows of flowers.

  “I’m very pleased that you recognize that”—Max grinned at me—”but I have to admit that I didn’t invent the Flower Mart; I just knew where it was.”

  “No, I mean the way you calmed Jasmine down. I had no idea what to do.”

  “She’s always been a bit excitable. I’ve known Jasmine for a long time. Since she was about three.”

  “You’ve lived next door that long?”

  “No. My aunt owned the house. I visited her a lot. Then when she died a couple of years ago, she left me the house.”

  “So, do you really know a band that can step in and play at her wedding?”

  “Of course I do. Some old friends. They do a few gigs now and then. Mostly hard rock, but they can play anything. We just have to give them a list of songs that she wants.”

  “I can see the list now. ‘Blue Bayou,’ ‘Blue Monday,’ maybe ‘Lady Blue.’“

  “‘Don’t It Make Your Brown Eyes Blue.’“ Max frowned. “I don’t think the band actually plays the blues, though.”

  “Maybe we could just get them to wear blue outfits?”

  “Only if that means blue jeans and T-shirts.” He laughed at my expression. “Don’t worry, the guys will dress appropriately, but I can’t promise blue.”

  “I’m just glad she didn’t want blue food.”

  Max took my hand and tugged me down an aisle that featured dried flowers and greenery. “I know she wants some mistletoe in the candles and the best vendor is down here.”

  We’d already picked up lavender, lemon blossoms, pansies, rosemary, and freesia. Each of them had some special meaning, none of which I really cared about, which was good since I also couldn’t remember them.

  “What do the pansies mean again?” I asked Max.

  “Thought. And the rosemary is remembrance, freesia is trust, lavender is loyalty, and mistletoe is for fertility. Jasmine, of course, is amiability.”

  “How do you remember all that?”

  “I worked for a florist for a while. That’s how I know about the Flower Mart.” He pulled me over to a small booth. Every kind of dried flower imaginable hung in bunches and clumps from every available spot. A short, skinny man hunched over a work counter littered with clippings, floral wire, and spools of ribbons.

  “Hey, Antonio!” Max called.

  The little man turned from his work, a big smile creasing his face. “Max! Where you been?” He shook Max’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, you been a busy boy, no?” Antonio waggled his bushy eyebrows and beamed at me.

  “Antonio, I’d like you to meet Skye. She needs some mistletoe.”

  “Ah, no! Woman this beautiful? I bet the boys all line up to kiss you.”

  I laughed, hoping it covered the fact that I was blushing. “It’s not for me. We’re making wedding favors.”

  “Ah. Good, good.” Antonio nodded his head, then winked at me. “About time someone made an honest man of him.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not our wedding!” Obviously he didn’t know Max very well.

  “It’s for a friend of ours,” Max explained. “Oh, come on, Antonio. You can’t be that disappointed.”

  “Breaks my heart.” Antonio patted his chest. “But at least you kiss the lady, yes?” Antonio pointed to the beam over our head. We looked up to see a massive bunch of mistletoe.

  Antonio laughed. “Means you gotta kiss the young man, you know? Like at Christmastime.”

  “I thought that was only for Christmas,” I said.

  “No, it for alla time, now you kiss.” Antonio gestured to the mistletoe. “You no kiss, you anger the gods and your friend’s marriage fail. You want that on your head?”

  “Not me,” Max said. “How about you?” Max slowly lowered his lips to mine. I was expecting a brief peck, but his lips settled gently on mine and I felt his arm move to my back, pulling me closer. His mouth moved softly over mine, and I felt myself lean into him a bit before I came to my senses and pulled away. What the hell was I doing kissing a gay man? Wasn’t it enough that I was divorcing one? I considered the possibility that I might have some fatal flaw when it came to choosing men. I tried to step away from Max, but he kept his arm draped over my shoulder.

  “That good enough for you, Antonio?”

  “You should be asking the lady if it was any I smiled, purchased the mistletoe, thanked Antonio, and hustled back to Max’s car, all the while trying not to appear like I was rushing.

  “You okay?” Max asked.

  “Sure. I’m fine. I just have so much to do, you know.”

  “Don’t forget, the candle making is tomorrow.” Max loaded our purchases into the car.

  Damn. I’d forgotten I’d promised to help with the candle making. Maybe I could come up with an excuse to get out of it.

  “Might as well get it done. One less thing for Jasmine to worry over. And don’t forget the band rehearsal is Sunday afternoon.”

  “Who could forget that?” I spent the ride back to Lily’s house wondering if there would be any way to get out of both events. By the time we arrived, I’d resigned myself to attending at least one.

  “Hey, Mom. You ready to go?” Sheridan and Jasmine were on the front porch, evidently waiting for us to return.

  “Sure.”

  “Max, all the candle supplies are in the sunroom with the cha
mpagne flutes.” Sheridan opened her car door. “See you tomorrow.”

  I climbed in the car, relieved at her reminder that she would be there for the candle making, too. Then I wondered why I felt that way. It wasn’t like I was afraid to be alone with Max. Just because he’d kissed me didn’t mean he was going to come on to me. It was a joke. He was gay. God! When had I become so uptight? I needed to loosen up some.

  “Mom, I need to talk to you about something,” Sheridan said as she pulled away from the curb.

  “Sure, honey. What?”

  Sheridan took a deep breath. “I’ve been accepted by Mario Lauria as a student.”

  “I didn’t know you’d applied. Sheridan, that’s wonderful!” Mario Lauria was a famous voice teacher. Sheridan had dreamed of studying with him for years. He was also very expensive and I had no idea how I would pay for the lessons, but I would. I’d find a way.

  “What about college?”

  “I’ll stay here and go to Portland Community College. I think it’s better anyway because I don’t even know what I want to major in.”

  “You think your father will be all right with this?” Craig had pushed her to enroll at UC Santa Cruz, his alma mater.

  “I already told him. I think he’s a little disappointed about me not going to UC, but he’s fine with it. He’s even paying for the lessons.”

  “More guilt payment?” I felt a little guilty myself at the relief that Craig would be footing the bill.

  “Probably. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not going to take advantage of Dad. Did you know he’s dating?”

  Craig was dating? That felt strange. And annoying. How could he just wipe away our marriage and start dating? “No, I didn’t know. Have you met the man? I assume it is a man?”

  “Yeah. He’s okay, I guess. I mean, I don’t have anything against gays, you know. But it feels a little weird having your father date a guy.”

  “I know what you mean. Feels a little weird to me, too.”

  “Who would have ever thought we’d be having this conversation?” Sheridan laughed and I felt like I could just about burst with pride. How could I think my marriage to Craig was wasted when I’d produced this beautiful young woman?

  “Dad asked if I wanted to live with him, but I really think he needs his own space right now.”

  “I think you’re right. Don’t worry about it. I’ll find us a place to live by then. Do you have any preferences about where you’d like to live? Close to the school?”

  Sheridan proceeded to give me her ideas about what a cool place to live would be like until we arrived back at Bobbi Jo’s. Bobbi Jo was lounging on the patio with a fruit smoothie.

  “Hey, y’all. Lily is coming over for dinner. I’m going to burn some chicken on the grill. Lily promised she’d bring everything else.”

  “Great. I could use some food. Especially food prepared by someone else.” I took a chair across from Bobbie Jo. “Sheridan just told me she’s been accepted by Mario Lauria.”

  “That girl’s going to be a star. Maybe a Broadway musical, or have a song in the Top Forty.”

  “First, I want her to go to college.”

  “You can’t live her life for her, Skye. Let her make her own choices.”

  “Easier said than done. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

  Bobbi Jo patted her tummy. “I can hardly wait.” The doorbell rang and Sheridan yelled that she’d get it. “That’s probably Lily. I’ll light the grill if you’ll get the chicken out of the fridge. It’s marinating in a bowl.”

  “Hi, Skye.” Lily set a stack of three plastic bowls on the counter. “Coleslaw, fruit salad, and a green salad. Do you have salad dressing? I didn’t think to bring any.”

  “In the door of the fridge.” I took the chicken out to Bobbi Jo and returned for tongs.

  “I can’t thank you enough for helping Jasmine with her wedding. I probably would have killed her by now.” Lily set three bottles of dressing on the counter.

  “She’s not that bad, Lily. She’s just excited and wants everything to be perfect.”

  “Well, she’ll get over it as soon as she gets married.”

  “Sounds like you’re having issues.”

  “Same old shit.” Lily poured herself a glass of wine. “I swear, if I’d known men were so impossible, I’d have considered becoming a lesbian.”

  “If I had two husbands and was considering a third, I’d have myself committed.”

  Sheridan danced into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

  “Take those plates and the silverware to the patio. It’ll be ready soon,” I told her.

  Lily followed her with the bowls, then came back for serving spoons and her wine. I poured myself a glass of wine, grabbed the napkins, a loaf of French bread, and a knife, and joined the others.

  “Do I have time for a quick swim?” Sheridan asked Bobbi Jo.

  “Chicken should be ready in about ten minutes.”

  “I’ll wait then. It’ll take me almost that long to go upstairs and change.”

  “We have an eight-foot privacy fence. Just shuck off your clothes and jump in. There’s a robe in the pool house when you’re done.”

  “Really?” Sheridan giggled.

  “Edward and I used to swim nekkid all the time.”

  We were all silent for a moment at the mention of Edward. I was torn between wanting to ask Bobbi Jo if she’d heard anything from Scott and not wanting to bring it up at all.

  “I talked to that detective today,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “Is there any news?” I asked.

  “It sounded like he thinks Jimmy is the prime suspect now.” Bobbi Jo laughed. “Can you imagine that? Edward and Jimmy have been friends forever. He’d never do anything to hurt Edward.”

  Bobbi Jo turned the chicken and waved the tongs toward the pool, seemingly having forgotten about the investigation. “You know the difference between being nude and being nekkid?”

  “I shudder to wonder.” I was still thinking about Jimmy McLaughlin and the money he needed for the buyout he was attempting. I hated to think that Edward’s longtime friend might have killed him, but I was happy that Bobbi Jo was no longer the number-one suspect.

  “Nude is when you don’t have any clothes on. Nekkid is when you don’t have any clothes on and you’re up to something.”

  “I’ve never swum in the nude before,” Sheridan said.

  “That’s a relief.” My comment garnered me a giggle from Sheridan as she stripped off her shorts and T-shirt. She hesitated at her bra and panties, but just for a moment.

  The three of us watched as Sheridan ran to the pool and dove in. She swam half the length of the pool underwater, then surfaced, pushing her long, dark hair off her face.

  “Were we ever that beautiful and vivacious?” Lily asked.

  “Probably. We’ve just forgotten about it.” I watched Sheridan as she swam across the pool with swift, strong strokes.

  “I think that’s the beauty of getting older,” Bobbi Jo offered. “We have memory loss so we forget just how great we felt and looked when we were young.”

  “I guess so. Now, we’re consumed with just keeping our bodies together. Never mind how they look.” Lily smoothed her long gauze dress over her plump belly and thighs. “I went to the dermatologist last week and he bitched at me about sun spots on my arms and legs. Told me the skin on my limbs should look just like the skin on my belly.”

  “What? It should have stretch marks?” I asked.

  Lily laughed and poured herself another glass of wine. I held my glass out, ready for a refill.

  “I can’t wait to have stretch marks,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “Only a woman pregnant for the first time could say that with a straight face,” Lily said.

  I had to agree with her. But I knew I wouldn’t give up the joy of having a child just to have a smooth tummy and firmer breasts. Neither would Lily.

  Bobbi Jo placed the chicken on a plate and carried it to the
table. I called Sheridan out of the pool and we all gathered for dinner. I hadn’t eaten lunch and the two glasses of wine were making my brain a little fuzzy, but that was okay.

  “Sheridan’s classes start in a month,” I said. “So, I need to start looking for a place to live.”

  “You can both stay here,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “Thanks, but I think we need our own place. You have no idea what it’s like living with a teenager.”

  “Mom!” Sheridan protested.

  “I just mean that you’re in and out all the time. You have friends over. It’s not what Bobbi Jo is used to.” I smiled at Bobbi Jo. “Besides, you’ll be busy getting ready for the baby.”

  “I guess,” Bobbi Jo said. “But you could still stay here. At least take your time finding a place.”

  “I appreciate the offer. And it might take some time to find just the right place.”

  “Bobbi Jo, it’s not like you won’t see them again.” Lily reached over and squeezed Bobbi Jo’s hand.

  “I know. It just going to feel weird to not have anyone in the house.” Bobbi Jo smiled at me. “You know, you have a lot to look forward to now.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked.

  “Oh, tons of things. Your first date, your first boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, that’s something to really look forward to,” I said.

  “Your first kiss. Remember how wonderful it felt to kiss some guy the first time? It’s the best.” Bobbi Jo forked a chunk of watermelon and grinned at me.

  “I don’t even want to think about dating and boyfriends.” I leaned over the table. “But I’ve already had my first kiss.”

  “When?”

  “Who?”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, it’s not a big deal. Max kind of kissed me on a dare today.”

  “Why isn’t it a big deal?” Lily asked.

  “Well, because Max is gay. It didn’t mean anything.” The three of them were silent, staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. “What?”

  “Mom, Max is so totally not gay!”

  “Yes, he is,” I insisted. “He told me about his partner leaving him.”

  Sheridan shook her head. “Everyone says partner now. It’s the politically correct word.”