He chuckled. “Chloe, your parents just pulled up in the drive. Mr. Vincent is helping Albert unload the luggage. Mother is with them as well. They timed their flights to coordinate the rental car and travel out here together.”
“Mother” was Uncle Max’s reference to his own mother, Granny Zaida. Chloe was looking forward to seeing her grandmother. It had been awhile since she’d gone down to Boca Raton for a weekend visit.
“Everything go well with Davis Jewelry?” her uncle asked, lowering his voice.
“Perfect. We’re on target for a painless wedding.”
“Painless?” he asked. “Ask me that again after I get my daughter’s American Express bill.”
Chloe laughed at her uncle’s comment, but the urgency in her stomach grew. It was time to inspect the diamonds before she met up with her parents and Granny Zaida, despite the fact that they had just arrived from the airport.
She quickly returned to Uncle Max’s office, locked the door behind her, and pulled the shades at the window.
Jim Greene had given her a diagram for the three jewelry pieces from his contact at Davis Jewelry, which was going to make creating her final map of the stones so much faster.
Indeed, after spending an hour, Chloe had all of her own personal notes filled out with the details of size and imperfections of each diamond alongside the ones that had come from Jim Greene. Now she could compare the stones against the diagram each time she examined them over the next thirty-six hours.
Chapter 12
When Chloe left the office, she rushed across the marble foyer to the drawing room, where her family had gathered and were talking a mile a minute.
She kissed her mother and father and then enveloped her grandmother in a giant hug.
“Who are you, young lady?” Zaida Romano said, holding her at arm’s length.
“Aw, Granny.”
“It’s been so long your face is slipping from my memory bank,” her grandmother teased, giving her two big kisses on either side of her face. “You look skinny, my girlie. Don’t you ever eat?”
“Donuts every morning for breakfast. Scout’s Honor.”
“I can attest to that,” Diana Romano said, looking pointedly at her daughter. “Cellulite is the bane of sugar. Mark my words, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Mom,” Chloe said dutifully.
Granny Zaida leaned close, her pure white bouffant brushing softly against Chloe’s face. “When you get to be my age, you can eat all the donuts you want. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“I’ll remember that. By the way, Granny, you look fabulous. I love your new dress. C’est très chic with all those swirly patterns and your red-hot pumps.”
Granny Zaida placed a palm to her head and posed like a model showing off. Her son Albert laughed and began lugging suitcases up the stairs, followed by Mr. Vincent. “You can see the rest of my new wardrobe if you ever decided to come back to Florida. You’re too busy playing at being a bridesmaid every weekend of your life. How will you ever find a man to date, let alone marry?”
“Ssh!” Chloe hushed her. “My profession is our little secret.”
Her grandmother pursed her lips. “I hear you’re even sending a bill to your own cousin.”
“I am not! Mercedes and I have a special contract together.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Granny said knowingly, although Chloe was 99.9% sure her grandmother knew nothing about her FBI assignment.
Chloe kept telling herself that nothing was going to happen. Inspect the diamonds every few hours, take pictures of Mark Westerfield, and then send her report to Agent Esposito—by certified snail mail, so she’d never have to see the man again.
“When’s dinner?” Granny Zaida asked as she headed upstairs to change for the dress rehearsal.
“At 6:00. About two hours.”
“I’m going to lie down. Come up in an hour and help me fix my flat hair. We need to have a chat.” Granny Zaida gave her granddaughter a particular “look” that Chloe knew well.
“Okey-dokey,” Chloe said, attempting a chipper tone but worried that Mercedes would come charging down the stairs any second for the facial that was interrupted by the arrival of the jewelers and now her family. At least her cousin’s pillow wrinkles were fading.
The house was filling with people who would be biding their time to sneak around the house with crime on their minds. It was hard knowing that Chloe had to maintain a professional sense of suspicion even with her own family, but the Westerfields were arriving shortly, and she hadn’t met any of them except the groom.
First Mercedes and the facial, then Granny—and then get dressed.
“Where have you been, Chloe?” Mercedes demanded when she reached her cousin’s suite. “We only have ninety minutes for my facial and dressing.”
“Let’s dig in, because I’ve been summoned to Granny’s room in an hour.”
Mercedes laughed. “Lucky you. Get ready for the third degree.”
Chloe put on some soothing music for Mercedes to relax. “A little Pandora’s classical stations, including the theme songs from Pride & Prejudice, are good for getting into a romantic wedding mood,” she told the fidgety bride.
“My nerves are shot,” Mercedes complained, scratching at her neck where the mask she’d applied was now drying out. “What if I twist my ankle coming up the grass? What if I stumble and fall flat on my face? What if my dress falls apart? What if I—”
Chloe laid a soothing hand on her arm. “You are going to be the most beautiful and poised bride in the history of weddings. Mark’s jaw will drop when you show up at the end of that aisle tomorrow. He’s going to think you are the hottest, most gorgeous woman he has ever laid eyes on. He’ll sweep you off your feet all over again. That’s how your wedding day is going to go down, girl.”
“I love your cozy Southern accent, Chloe,” Mercedes murmured, her lips barely moving as the purple-colored mask stiffened up.
“Okay, Katey, time to get this hardening face mask off,” Chloe said firmly.
She grabbed a couple of warm washcloths and laid them over Mercedes’s cheeks and neck to soften up the mask. Katey rinsed them out and soaked Mercedes’s skin a few more times until it was all gone, leaving her skin fresh and glowing.
“I’ll be back to see how your dressing is going,” Chloe told the bride, turning the doorknob to race down the hall to her grandmother’s room. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Katey. I don’t want any runaway brides.”
“You underestimate my love for Mark,” Mercedes said, sticking out her tongue while she sank into the chair at her dressing table.
Chloe laughed. “My sophisticated cousin is reverting back to her teen years when we used to argue over which guy on the beach was the hottest—or which Navy Seal running sprints on the sand was the most built.”
“I always had the best taste,” Mercedes shot back.
Chloe made her way down the hall while unbidden memories scrolled across her eyes like a movie. Memories of Liam Esposito in shorts, working out in the weight room at Quantico. Running miles along the beach, his chiseled chest muscles rippling with each stride.
That man made her crazy. In a thousand different ways.
Her grandmother had already showered and was wearing a white slip. She leaned in close to the dressing mirror, attempting to powder her wrinkles into oblivion. “Do you think I look old?” She frowned.
“What a question. How am I supposed to answer that?”
“I look pretty good for seventy-three, don’t you think?”
“You don’t look a day past sixty-seven.”
“I should swat your behind for that impudent comment.”
Chloe giggled. She adored her grandmother. They’d always had fun teasing each other.
“Come sit next to me on that stool while I attempt some makeup.”
“Do you want some help?”
Granny Zaida shook her head. “When you get to be this age, it’s mostly some foundation, powder, and lipstic
k. Brows. Don’t forget the eyebrows, or you’ll look as if you belong in a coffin. Eyeshadow and eyeliner just get lost in my eyelid folds.”
“Here.” Chloe reached down to retrieve a stray eyebrow pencil. “Can I help you get into your dress and zip you up?”
“Yes, darling, thank you. Now tell me. Who are you dating these days?”
“After training with a bunch of FBI guys, I got turned off by smelly, hairy men.”
“That is not true. Give me a hairy, musky man any day.”
“Granny!” Chloe said, swatting at her arm. “You are so bad.”
“I’ll telephone and tell you about my ancient neighbor who picks me up for a ride on his golf cart for a round of nine? He flirts like the devil!”
Chloe laughed again. “Call me any time. Except weekends. I work nearly every single one of them.”
Her grandmother picked up a lipstick, twisting the tube up and down thoughtfully. “You should be having fun on your weekends. Meeting men, going out to dinner and concerts.”
Chloe clasped her hands together tightly, lifting her eyes as they watched each other in the mirror.
Granny Zaida swiveled around on the dressing table stool. “What is it, my darling girl? I promise I won’t tell your mother.”
“Pinky promise?”
Her grandmother held up her pinky, and they clasped fingers.
“It’s really not anything much,” Chloe finally said in a quiet voice. “Ever since Jenna died in the house raid, going out and having fun just feels wrong. I force myself to meet my friends, especially Shelly—you remember Shelly Kelman, she’s in New York now with a big fashion designer.”
“Of course I remember. I’m not senile yet. Well, good for her in New York, living her dream job.”
“We don’t see each other too often, but sometimes she comes to Atlanta for a show. Or Charleston, and we try to meet up. But men—they don’t fit my schedule. And I just don’t seem to have the heart for it. He has to be really hot,” Chloe joked, trying to lighten the somber mood that had come over the bedroom.
“If he’s hot, then you’d better go out with him, or you’ll be in hot water with me.” Granny Zaida paused. “Your grieving process has taken a long time, darling. Longer than it should at your tender age. Do you want my opinion?”
“What if I say no?” Chloe smiled faintly, not sure if she could take a grim conversation right before the wedding rehearsal dinner.
“If you do, I’ll hog-tie you to your chair.”
Chloe gave a laugh, fiddling with the combs and brushes strewn across the dressing table.
Her grandmother twisted in her chair and grasped both of Chloe’s hands. “I suspect there are issues surrounding Jenna’s death that you haven’t resolved yet.”
“I have issues now?” Chloe responded, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. She still had a hard time talking about Jenna. Her dearest friend from childhood, gone. So quickly, so suddenly, and in such a horrible tragedy. “You know I hate that phrase? Jenna’s death. She was only twenty-eight, Granny. She had her whole life ahead of her. She was good at what we were learning. She was quick and sharp during training—and she adored it.”
“I know, darling,” her grandmother said gently, eyes shimmering with tears of her own.
“We were so excited about being placed in Baltimore on our first assignment together. It was going so well. We were only nine months out from our training when the world turned upside down.”
“It was a total disaster, your father tells me,” Granny Zaida said soberly, watching Chloe with a sharp keenness.
“We’d been working a case concerning a drug house and a high profile gang.” Chloe let out a ragged breath. “Working tips, getting closer to the players. We finally got the green light to clear the house and arrest everyone. Confiscate the crack and heroin worth a couple hundred grand.”
“How did the accident happen, sweetheart?”
“Somehow they got wind of the raid. They were waiting for us. Shots fired, men down. It was chaotic. We were clearing out of there, more local officers arriving on scene—and suddenly the kitchen exploded. They’d set a bomb, hoping to kill us all. If it had gone off sooner—” Chloe choked on the words. “I wouldn’t be here either, Granny. Or the rest of my team. Jenna was heading to the hallway when it went off in the kitchen. She was knocked back inside and suffered third-degree burns.”
“Good Lord in heaven, have mercy,” Granny Zaida whispered, making the sign of the cross.
“She was in the intensive burn unit and fought hard to live, but her injuries were too much. The whole world was dark and numb for so many weeks. Months. When my leave was up and I was supposed to return to work after Jenna’s funeral, I resigned. Then I got myself the silliest profession,” Chloe said, her eyes swimming with the tears she was determined not to shed. “The one that takes my mind off the past.”
Granny Zaida wrapped her arms around Chloe, holding her tight and hard. “I wish I could put a hundred Band-Aids on your broken heart, darling.”
“They’d only fall off, I’m afraid. And even if they stopped the bleeding, how do you erase the scars?”
“You don’t,” Granny said firmly, brushing at the wisps of hair falling across Chloe’s face. “You’ll learn that scars never go away completely. You just learn to live with them. You keep on living despite them. Keep on loving, too. Closing off your heart to future friendships—or love—is worse than the scars. Believe me, I know from personal experience. I miss your grandpa more than I can express.”
Chloe couldn’t speak. She nodded shakily, pressing a finger to her lips to stop their trembling.
“Are you still in touch with your old team leader or anyone else from your group?”
Chloe didn’t know whether to be fully transparent or not. At the moment, she couldn’t talk about Liam at all. “No, I haven’t contacted any of them.”
Which wasn’t a total lie. Agent Esposito had come to her, not the other way around.
Swiping at her face with a quick brush of her hand, Chloe said, “We need to get a move on, Granny. Look at the time.”
“Yes, I need to let you get dressed now, dear girl. But if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I have a pretty empathetic pair, even if they wobble once in a while.”
Chloe kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “I do love you, Granny. Thank you.”
“Go help Mercedes, and I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. I hope there’s good food. I’m starving. They didn’t feed us on the plane.”
“Lunches on airplanes are a thing that went out with pantyhose—except for Mercedes’s pair.”
Granny Zaida let out a giggle. “Whatever does that mean?”
“Your adorable granddaughter will be secretly wearing pantyhose to keep her tummy smooth and flat.”
“My old-fashioned girdle is forty years strong and still keeps it all tucked in.”
“I’ll pass the tip along.” Chloe gave her grandmother a quick kiss and then closed the bedroom door behind her, leaning against it for a moment to center herself.
Talking about Jenna was rough, and something she had avoided for a year. Chloe’s eyes swam with unshed tears. Tears that would have to wait. The next thirty hours were all wedding, wedding, wedding. She had to focus on Mercedes and her mission.
Fingers crossed that the diamonds stayed safe and this entire FBI operation was a huge, fat mistake.
An hour later, all the Romano women were dressed in evening attire, hair curled and spritzed, perfume behind the ears, and Chloe was opening the safe with Mercedes dancing on her toes.
Chloe forced her cousin to sit at her father’s office desk while she turned the numbers on the combination. Taking out the first box, she opened it while her uncle stood at the door like a guard.
When Mercedes saw the diamonds sparkling like shooting stars under the light of the chandelier, she practically hyperventilated in awe. “Is it okay to touch them?”
Chloe laughed. “Either you put them on or I
will.” Holding up a mirror, she watched her cousin reverently clip the earrings onto her earlobes.
“I can’t believe I’m wearing thousands of dollars of diamonds on each ear.”
“You look like Greta Garbo,” Chloe told her. “She’s one of my favorite old movie stars.”
“With my dark hair, I’ll pretend I’m Sophia Loren,” Mercedes said, holding up a hand to cover her delighted giggles.
Chloe nodded. “Perfect choice.”
Uncle Max kissed the top of his daughter’s head and put an arm around her. “You look beautiful. Tomorrow you’re going to be a vision of loveliness.”
“Thank you, Daddy, for making my dreams come true!”
Mercedes tucked her hand in the crook of her father’s elbow, and Chloe watched them depart for the backyard while she secured the safe and the office. Glancing out the window that overlooked the back patio, she could see that four tables of ten seats had been set up for the rehearsal dinner.
Earlier, Chloe had briefly met Mark Westerfield’s parents, including his older brother, Gary, and his wife Debi, as well as his cousin Brett Sorenson, who would be Mark’s best man—and her escort to walk down the aisle.
Brett Sorenson could have been a movie star with his rugged cowboy looks and easygoing smile. She hadn’t met such a charming, friendly man like Brett in a long time. Maybe Granny Zaida was right and she should get out more.
It turned out the man lived in Savannah and ran a shipping company—only a hundred and fifty miles from Columbia, South Carolina.
Chloe headed across the open foyer, hoping she could sit next to Brett and chat—casually, she warned herself. After all, she couldn’t act like she hadn’t had a date in six months. No quiet desperation on her face. Or laughing at his jokes too much.
Putting on her metaphoric undercover bridesmaid hat, she pushed through the front door to take the side path that led straight to the back gardens, locking the front doors so nobody could walk right into the house while they were all in the backyard eating dinner.
It was probably a good idea to do a quick scout around. With the house empty now, the diamonds seemed exceptionally vulnerable—especially if there was someone watching and waiting in the shadows.
The Undercover Bridesmaid Page 9