Meg broke into a wry smile. “I guess we must have been pretty convincing.”
Trevor commented dryly, “It wasn’t a big stretch of your acting skills. You two put the ‘happy’ in happy hour.”
Meg shot Trevor a dirty look, but kept her mouth shut.
“Bravo,” exclaimed Professor Mansfield. “Your sleuthing skills and historical expertise are commendable! I shall use this story in my class at Yale.”
The crowd gave us a round of fervent applause. The four of us bowed politely and returned to our seats.
“Any last words, Ms. Marshall, before we proceed to the business portion of our meeting?” asked Mansfield.
I stood up quickly. “Yes, Professor. Although I’m not officially a member, I would like to propose Winston Hollingsworth as the next president of the Mayflower Society. I truly believe he’s earned it, and you couldn’t find another person with more enthusiasm for the organization.”
I sat down and looked over my shoulder at my future father-in-law, whose smile stretched from ear to ear.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Kit, we need to leave in ten minutes.”
Meg’s voice traveled down the hallway of our condo and into the master bedroom. There was time for one final hair and makeup check in my full-length mirror.
The reflection staring back gave me a moment’s pause. I was wearing a long, white-silk dress with a sleeveless bodice and a scooped neckline. My long brown hair had been swept into a loose up-do with wispy tendrils framing my cheeks and chin. I had on more makeup than usual, but thankfully it looked natural. The taupe and peachy tones gave my skin a healthy glow, perfect for a beautiful Saturday morning in early June.
My dress wasn’t long, so I could walk comfortably in my one-inch sandal heels. Meg was waiting for me in the living room, clutching a beaded purse in one hand, and of course, a glass of champagne in the other.
“How can you possibly drink this early in the morning?” I asked, perhaps naively.
“How could you not have a drink, given what you’re about to do?” Meg retorted.
“Good point. I’ll take a sip.”
Meg giggled as I grabbed her glass.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s a little crazy, even for you,” she said.
“What? Getting married? Not everyone is an expert dater like you, Meg.”
After a dry spell, Meg had rebounded. In fact, she’d had so many online dates in the last month, I’d teased her she was aiming for a world record.
Meg finished off the champagne, headed to the fridge, and poured herself a refill. “Getting married is nutty enough. But I’m talking about your wedding plan. I hope this works.”
I followed her into the kitchen. “We’ve gone over it several times. And it’s exactly the type of wedding Doug and I want.”
“I’ve heard of pop-up stores before,” said Meg. “Just not pop-up weddings.”
“You make it sound like we’re selling Christmas tree ornaments or something. I told you before. It’s a creative wedding, Meg. Not traditional.”
“Hopefully we won’t end up in handcuffs,” muttered Meg.
“Don’t be silly. No one is going to arrest me while I’m wearing this thing.” I grabbed the flowing skirt of my dress and shook it.
Meg made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Famous last words. Who’s going to bail us out? Trevor?”
I laughed at the thought. “We’re not going to get caught. Besides, Doug’s father is a lawyer.”
“Yeah, that did him a lot of good when he was accused of double homicide. As I recall, we were the ones to get him out of that mess.”
“True, but Buffy and Winston are being pretty cool about our wedding, so I suppose it all worked out, didn’t it?” I squeezed Meg’s shoulder.
She glanced at her phone and punched a few buttons. “Our ride is arriving in five minutes. I even ordered an Uber black car for you.” Meg grinned. “After all, it’s my best friend’s wedding day.”
Twenty minutes later, we were approaching our drop-off location, the corner of Seventh and Madison Avenue Northwest, right next to one of the many entrances to the Smithsonian Sculpture Garden.
Meg looked at the clock inside our car. “Five minutes after eleven,” she said.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
Our Uber driver, his interest already piqued due to our fancy garb, gave us a sideways glance. “What are you ladies up to this morning, if I may ask?”
Meg pointed at me. “She’s getting married inside the Sculpture Garden.”
Our driver shook his head. “I don’t think that’s allowed. Do you have a permit?”
“My fiancé and I hired a company that does weddings at unusual locations throughout Washington. It’s called a pop-up wedding,” I said.
“Now I’ve heard everything,” said our driver, rolling his eyes. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
Meg and I hauled ourselves out of the car and hustled to the sidewalk. Sure enough, Doug turned the corner, with Clarence on a leash and his parents in tow. He was wearing a light-blue linen suit with a crisp, white, buttoned-down shirt underneath. He’d initially insisted on wearing a tie, but I’d convinced him it would scream “wedding” and therefore draw unwanted attention inside the Sculpture Garden. After pointing out I wasn’t exactly dressed for a stroll in the park, he reluctantly agreed. Even though his shirt collar was open, he was already sweating profusely under the hot, late-morning summer sun.
I’d gotten dressed after he left the condo this morning, so he hadn’t seen me in my wedding finery yet. This was the so-called big reveal.
I opened my arms wide. “Ta-da! No fancy aisle required. Just a sidewalk on Seventh Street in downtown D.C.”
“Stunning, nonetheless.” He twirled me around for a 360-degree view of my dress. Clarence barked his approval.
Doug’s parents followed behind him. Winston grabbed my right hand and kissed it. “What a beautiful bride.”
Buffy almost knocked him out of the way. “Kit, I absolutely love the elegance. Is it Vera Wang?”
I shook my head.
“Oscar de la Renta?” she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.
“Nope.”
Buffy looked at me expectantly.
“I bought it online from a woman who canceled her wedding,” I said. “Never been worn, though!”
Buffy appeared as though she’d just been told I’d found the dress at Goodwill. “Well, it’s certainly unconventional.” She forced a cheery smile. “Nonetheless, it’s striking.” She added, “Particularly on you.”
“Thank you,” I said politely.
“It’s a damn shame your parents couldn’t make it,” said Winston.
“They’re on a month-long tour of Australia, hitting every possible vineyard,” I explained. “They understand. We told them we’d recreate the ceremony with a justice of the peace the next time they roll into town.”
Doug wrapped his arms around my waist. “It’s a good excuse to get married twice. I don’t mind.”
My soon-to-be husband had a goofy grin plastered across his face. “This might be the happiest I’ve ever seen you,” Meg said.
“I’ve never said these words, and I may not say them again,” said Doug. “Meg, you are one hundred percent correct!”
As we were laughing, a younger woman with spiky red hair joined us on the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath. “The Hollingsworth-Marshall wedding, I presume. Are you ready to get this party started?”
Kendra was our pop-up wedding coordinator. Her company had received great reviews online. After the Continental Club murders, Doug and I decided we didn’t want to waste any more time planning an elaborate wedding. We pondered elopement, but somehow that didn’t seem right, either. Then a colleague at work had mentioned the idea of a pop-up wedding, and we quickly booked one of the last available days of the summer.
Doug’s father extended his hand to Kendra. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Winsto
n Hollingsworth, president of the Mayflower Historical Society and attorney-at-law. How does this whole pop-up wedding thing work?”
Worry lines appeared on Kendra’s forehead. “Are you here to shut us down?”
“I apologize!” Winston bellowed with laughter. “I neglected to tell you my most important credential.” He pointed to Doug. “I’m the father of the groom.”
Kendra sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Lawyers usually tell me what I can’t do.”
“Not this one. We want to get the show on the road,” said Winston. “It’s about time these two got hitched.”
Kendra consulted the iPad she was clutching. “It says here that your friend Trevor is taking care of security.”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “He monitored the garden last week and figured out where the guard hangs out. He’s going to chat him up and hopefully delay him from making his rounds in this part of the park.”
“Genius!” exclaimed Kendra. “I love it when friends work together at weddings. We’ve never pulled off an uninterrupted wedding at the Sculpture Garden before. This just might be our lucky day!”
“What happens if security breaks up the wedding before they’re married?” asked Buffy.
Doug shrugged. “We don’t have a backup plan, Mother. Kit has taught me to loosen up, if you haven’t noticed.” His eyes glittered with amusement.
“I noticed,” said Meg. “You’re only half the stick in the mud you used to be.”
“Coming from you, that’s a compliment,” said Doug.
“Are you two ready?” asked Kendra.
Doug and I nodded. With Clarence in tow, he put his hand in mine, and we walked inside the Sculpture Garden. We’d chosen a secluded spot near the entrance, tucked behind the pyramid sculpture.
Kendra’s partner, an equally hip-looking guy named Maurice, was waiting for us with a small book in his hands. “Welcome, Doug and Kit. We’re under the gun in this location, so we should begin the ceremony immediately.”
Winston, Buffy, Meg, and Clarence surrounded us as Maurice began the ceremony. Trevor could only hold off security for so long, so we’d chosen the abbreviated version. After a few pleasantries, it was time to exchange our vows.
“As I understand it, Kit and Doug have chosen to recite vows they have written themselves.” Maurice signaled for Doug to go first.
“Kit, today is the happiest day of my life. I’ve waited for years to marry you. I promise to love you for all eternity. And I also promise to accept everything about you.” He paused. “Even your sleuthing.”
Meg giggled, and Buffy dabbed her wet eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.
Now it was my turn. “Doug, there were times when I thought this day would never come. But now it has, and I can’t find the right words to describe the contentment I feel. I promise to love you unconditionally.” I took a deep breath. “Even when you interfere with my crime-solving.”
Doug smiled. Meg gave me his wedding ring, and I slipped it on his finger. Doug bent down and unzipped a small compartment attached to Clarence’s collar. Inside he removed a diamond-studded platinum band and placed it on my finger.
Maurice clapped his hands. “Fantastic! By the power vested in me by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Just as I leaned in toward Doug, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Kendra making crazy hand gestures in the direction of the pathway.
“But you’d better do it fast,” added Maurice.
Clarence growled softly as Meg pointed in the distance. “Uh-oh. Wedding party’s over.”
A slightly overweight, balding security officer was heading right for us. “Stop!” he cried. “There are no weddings allowed inside the Sculpture Garden. You’re in violation of federal government regulations!”
Doug and I looked at each other and kissed quickly. Filled with bliss, we grabbed Clarence’s leash and dashed toward the gate, leaving behind us a trail of joyous tears and hearty laughter.
* * *
Colleen J. Shogan has been a fan of mysteries since the age of six. A political scientist by training, she is a senior executive at the Library of Congress where she works on great programs like the National Book Festival. A proud member of Sisters in Crime, Colleen won a Next Generation Indie Award in the Best Mystery category for her first novel Stabbing in the Senate. She lives in Arlington, Virginia with her husband Rob Raffety and their rescue mutt Conan.
For more information, go to www.colleenshogan.com.
Calamity at the Continental Club Page 24