Dying To Marry

by Janelle Taylor

  “Dan, I—”

  “But you wouldn’t give it up. You made up a story about seeing someone passed out drunk in the woods to get me out there with you, and then you tried plastering yourself against me.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to resist,” Pru said, her eyes downcast.

  “Pru, I admit you’re a beautiful woman. But I found you and your style very resistible. Yet still, you wouldn’t give up. You threw a little tantrum in the woods, throwing rocks to emphasize your point. You were like a child. That’s Pru Dunhill.”

  Ah, the famous fight in the woods. Now that it all made sense, it was still hard to believe.

  “No!” she cried. “It isn’t! That isn’t me. Oh, God, I don’t know. Maybe that was me. But it’s not me anymore. Since I met you—”

  “Since you met me you’ve been lying, Pru,” Dan said. “What about the next time you came to the shop? You made up a lie about your car dying near the railroad tracks so that I would come with you. You lied through your teeth!”

  That must have been the day when Aunt Louise had seen Dan and Pru—not in disguise—walking down to the tracks.

  “Oh, yeah, like lying would really make you appeal to me,” he said, exasperated.

  “Let me finish, please,” Pru said. “I knew I’d blown it that day, and I didn’t know how else to get you to give me a chance, so I came over to the shop looking a lot different to see how you’d react, and you asked me out right away.”

  “So you are a lie. One big lie.”

  “No!” Pru said. “I’m the same person! Just different clothes and hair!”

  “But everything you’ve represented to me is a lie,” he said, standing up. “What a dupe I am.” He stalked out the door.

  “Thanks a lot, Dylan!” Pru screamed. “Thanks for ruining the one good thing I had going!”

  Before Dylan could utter a word, Pru had also stalked out the door. Dylan, Jake and Holly raced after her, but she’d peeled off in her Volvo, leaving skid marks.

  “Okay, that was really weird,” Dylan said. “My sister is in love with a Down Hill mechanic and has been pretending to be a Down Hill woman named Suzy? I thought I’d seen it all these past few weeks, but this is really crazy.”

  “Wow,” Lizzie said, dropping into a chair.

  Dylan, Jake and Holly joined Lizzie at the table, shaking their heads in wonder.

  Holly and Lizzie were about to turn in for the night when the doorbell rang. Holly parted the living room curtain and glanced out to make sure the security car was still parked across the street. It was. She nodded at Lizzie.

  “Who is it?” Lizzie said, shrugging at Holly.

  “It’s Pru.”

  Holly and Lizzie exchanged glances as Lizzie opened the door.

  “I know it’s late,” Pru said, back to looking like herself. “But I’d like to talk to you if that’s all right. The both of you.”

  Lizzie nodded. “Of course. Come in.”

  Pru declined offers of tea or soft drinks, but Holly made a pot of tea anyway. When she returned to the living room with a tray, Pru and Lizzie were seated at opposite ends of the sofa, their hands folded in their laps.

  Holly wasn’t sure who looked more nervous.

  “I just wanted to drop by to ask a favor,” Pru said. “I would appreciate it if you would keep what happened this afternoon to yourselves. It’s worth a good deal of money to me, so”—she removed her checkbook from her wallet—“just tell me how much would be enough to guarantee no one hears about it—especially not the Troutville Gazette.”

  “Pru,” Lizzie said. “Put your checkbook away. If you want us to keep mum about today, asking is all you need to do.”

  “Why would you keep quiet for nothing?” she asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Nothing,” Lizzie said. “Holly, what’s in it for you?”

  “Nothing,” Holly repeated.

  “Why would you do me a favor?” Pru asked. “I’ve been nothing but mean to you. To both of you.”

  “How we treat people is a reflection of us, not other people,” Lizzie said. “Just because someone is a jerk to us doesn’t mean we have to be a jerk back. That’s not who we are.”

  “Fine,” Pru said. “So I have your silence. You swear.”

  Lizzie nodded. Pru looked at Holly, and she nodded as well.

  “Fine, then,” Pru said again. “That’s all I came to say, then.” She got up, slid her purse on her shoulder and walked to the door. But she simply stood there, facing the door, not moving, not saying a word. And all of a sudden she started crying.

  “Pru?” Lizzie said softly.

  “What am I going to do?” Pru said, covering her face with her hands. “What am I going to do?”

  Lizzie and Holly exchanged glances.

  “I love him,” Pru said, still facing the door. “I love him so much.”

  “Pru, how about you come back over here, sit down and have that cup of tea,” Lizzie said.

  Pru turned around. “Maybe one cup. Do you have herbal?”

  “I’ve got good old Lipton,” Lizzie said.

  “I guess that’ll be fine,” Pru said as she headed back to the couch. She sat down, eyed Holly at the other end of the couch and then Lizzie as she poured hot water into a mug. “Must seem crazy to you two, huh.”

  “That you fell in love with someone?” Holly asked. “Someone from a different walk of life?”

  Pru nodded.

  “Not so crazy,” Holly said, smiling. “It happened not so long ago to someone very close to me. “It did seem crazy at first, unbelievable, until I realized that love is love, no matter who you are, where you come from, what you do. Magic is magic. And sometimes what you have in common has nothing to do with outer trappings.”

  “Magic,” Pru repeated. “That perfectly describes how it is between me and Dan. But now he hates me. He won’t return my calls, he won’t answer his door. I’ve lost him.”

  “Well, he’s probably just in shock,” Lizzie said. “Once he has a night to digest it, he’ll probably be willing to hear you out.”

  Pru nodded. “I hope so.”

  “Pru, I’d like to ask you something,” Holly said. “If you’ve been in love with Dan these past few weeks, if you’ve learned yourself how love works, how your brother could have fallen in love with Lizzie, then why have you been so cruel?”

  Pru looked down at her feet. “Part of it is wanting to keep up a front, protecting myself from how I feel, I guess. Maybe that’s what it’s always been about. Protecting myself from I don’t even know what. It’s why I’ve pretended to be so crazy about Jake. I mean, he’s a great guy and sexy as hell, but I thought he was a safe cover for me. Especially because my mother likes him so much.”

  Wow, Holly thought. That’s a heck of a lot of trouble to go through.

  “Pru, I’m going to ask this just once and then never again,” Lizzie said. “Has it been you who’s been trying to sabotage my relationship with Dylan?”

  She shook her head. “Not me. And it’s not Arianna, either. I’m sure she’s on the top of your list of suspects after me and my mother.”

  Lizzie nodded.

  Pru stood. “Thanks for the tea.”

  “You don’t have to rush off,” Lizzie said. “We’re pretty good listeners if you need to talk.”

  “I just feel like being alone,” Pru said. “Maybe take a drive and think about what I’m going to say to Dan tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Holly said. “Good luck.”

  Pru offered a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  Lizzie walked Pru to the door. “Just out of curiosity, Pru, are you going to tell your mother about Dan?”

  “A few days before he proposes,” Pru said. She winked at Lizzie. “I think Dylan had the right idea there.”

  Lizzie smiled, they said their good nights, and as Lizzie closed the door behind her future sister-in-law, she shook her head in wonder. “A day ago, I wouldn’t have thoug
ht there was even a possibility that Pru Dunhill and I could ever be civil, let alone friends.”

  Holly smiled. “There’re a lot of strange happenings going on in this town.”

  Lizzie laughed. “That’s the understatement of the year.” She dropped down on the sofa and leaned her head back. “I’m beyond relieved that it’s not Pru or Mrs. Dunhill or Arianna who’s been trying to ruin my life and my friends’ lives. But then, who is? I’m out of guesses.”

  “I don’t know, Lizzie,” Holly said honestly. “But I do know Jake is working on the answer around the clock.”

  She nodded and let out a deep breath. “The wedding is set,” Lizzie said, “and I don’t have anything but a bridal party and a groom.”

  “That’s pretty much all you need, honey,” Holly said. “The reverend is still set, and you can wear one of the prettiest dresses in your closet.”

  “That’s true,” Lizzie said. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I wear so long as the people I love are right there with me.”

  Holly squeezed her cousin’s hand.

  “And at least we’re telling the psychopath that he or she hasn’t won,” Lizzie said. “Dylan and I are marrying despite their best efforts to keep us apart or drive me out of town. Maybe once we’re married, the psycho will just admit defeat and leave us alone.”

  Holly nodded a hopeful smile, but she wasn’t so sure that would happen.

  The doorbell rang. Lizzie and Holly practically jumped out of their seats.

  It was Pru Dunhill again.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” Pru said, “but, um, well you said I could come by if I needed to talk, and ...”

  “And we’re glad you did,” Lizzie said, shooting Holly a perplexed look. “Were you able to talk to Dan?”

  Pru nodded. “I reached him from my cell just sitting in the car. He wants to meet at Morrow’s Pub tonight and he wants me to come as me.” Pru suddenly burst into tears. “But I can’t do that. When I’m with Dan I’m Suzy. I’m not Pru Dunhill. And it’s fun being someone else. Someone who can do and say and be whatever she wants.”

  “Pru, you do say and do whatever you want,” Holly pointed out.

  Pru shook her head. “It might seem that way, and I’m not trying to come off as the poor little rich girl, but being so rich and beautiful and perfect and envied comes with a cost, too.”

  Holly tried not to burst into laughter. She exchanged a glance with Lizzie. “Pru, why don’t you tell us what it is that you like so much about being ‘Suzy.’”

  Pru smiled. “I love being able to dress in rocker-babe clothes and have wild hair. I love being able to drink a beer. I love being able to be sweet and nice and lovey-dovey with Dan and his friends. I’m an entirely different person when I’m Suzy.”

  “Pru, why can’t you just try to incorporate Suzy, the person you want to be, into who you are now. You can be whoever, whatever you want—you’ve seen that. So just be Suzy. Get some more fun clothes, play with your hair, be sweet and nice. That’s all you have to do. You don’t have to pretend to be someone completely different.”

  “I’m not sure I can change,” Pru said. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about changing.”

  “I would,” Holly said. “And so would Lizzie. It’s tough, but in the end, you just might get what you really want.”

  “So it’s worth it?” Pru said.

  Lizzie nodded. “Don’t you think, Hol?”

  Holly thought of Jake. She’d changed too late to get what she wanted.

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s worth it even if you don’t get what you want.”

  The wedding plans changed even more dramatically. Instead of the big church wedding that Lizzie had always dreamed of, the ceremony was now scheduled to take place under very tight security at Dunhill Mansion tomorrow, a day earlier than planned. Instead of two-hundred-and-twenty-five guests, all of whom had accepted the invitation, only family and close friends would attend. And instead of being warmly greeted by the bride and groom and their families, all guests—and the bride and groom—would be subject to intensive security checks of their persons and possessions before they would be allowed entry into the house.

  Mrs. Dunhill had been surprisingly agreeable about hosting the wedding at her house; she’d made the arrangements with the reverend and hired a wedding planner to quickly turn her ballroom into a flower-and-gazebo “garden” and her kitchen into a makeshift catering center. She’d also personally called all the guests who were essentially being “uninvited” to inform them of the change.

  Apparently, a grandchild with married parents meant a lot to Mrs. Dunhill.

  As Jake made the last of the calls to ensure the security force would be in place, he swiveled around in his desk chair and stared out the window down onto Troutville Plaza.

  In two days, Holly would be leaving.

  Once again, he was Troutville and she was not. Ten years ago, it had been easy to let her go because of her dreams. He’d wanted her to realize them all, to be happy. To find the life and home that she’d always dreamed of.

  But now, letting her go wasn’t so simple. There was unfinished business. And there was the little matter of his feelings for her.

  How do I feel? he asked himself. Part of him loved her like crazy. And part of him knew he’d never be what she was looking for because he was Troutville.

  Then again, if Pru Dunhill could fall in love with a Down Hill mechanic and change her entire being for him, anything was possible.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The weather cooperated for Lizzie’s wedding day. It was sunny and warm with a lovely breeze. A breeze that should have sent the aroma of Holly’s chocolate chip muffins up the stairs to Lizzie’s bedroom to wake her up.

  Holly glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Nine o’clock. “Lizzie, honey, are you awake?” she called up the stairs. “It’s nine o’clock. Come down for breakfast—I’m making my specialty.”

  Holly waited a moment for a response, then headed into the kitchen. Lizzie Morrow could sleep through a jackhammer outside her window, but she could never sleep through the knowledge that Holly’s chocolate chip muffins were waiting for her.

  Ingredients mixed, Holly slid the muffin tray into the oven, then brought the telephone over to the kitchen table and sat down. She’d forgotten to buy coffee yesterday, and since Flea lived closest and was addicted to the stuff, she thought Flea wouldn’t mind bringing some by when she came over this morning to attend to Lizzie.

  That’s odd, Holly thought. There was no dial tone. She replaced the receiver in the cradle, then picked it up and put it to her ear again.

  Nothing.

  Ah, Lizzie, Holly remembered, heading over to the jack to make sure it was plugged in. Lizzie often unplugged the phone because their psycho enjoyed making threatening midnight calls—that of course, couldn’t be traced.

  The phone cord was plugged into the jack—but the phone cord wasn’t plugged into the phone itself.

  Because the cord had been cut.

  Holly’s stomach rolled over. “Lizzie!” She flew through the living room and up the stairs and barged into Lizzie’s room.

  It was empty.

  “Lizzie!” Holly screamed.

  There was a note on the bed. Holly grabbed it and read the words typed all uppercase on white paper:

  TOO LATE, HOLLY. SHE’S DEAD.

  AND SO IS HER CRIPPLED KEEPER!

  Holly ran as fast as she could to Lizzie’s neighbor. Out of breath, she asked to borrow the woman’s phone. The woman produced a cordless, and Holly punched in Jake’s number as she paced frantically back and forth in the yard.

  Please be home. Please be home. Please be home!

  The phone was silent.

  She shook it and pressed the off key, then pressed it back on. No dial tone.

  Oh, my God.

  Holly dropped the phone and ran in the direction of Flea’s house, just two blocks away. Flea, please be there and safe, she praye
d. Please!

  She knocked frantically. No answer. She ran around to the back.

  Voices! She could hear Flea’s voice.

  Thank God she’s alive, Holly thought.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, then pulled it back. Was their psycho in there now? With Flea and Lizzie? If Holly barged in, would he or she do something rash?

  What should I do? What should I do? she screamed at herself. Think!

  Okay, just calm down and listen. Listen. And look.

  She peered through the small gap in the curtain covering the back door. This was the entrance to Flea’s apartment, though Flea usually used the shop entrance around the house.

  The house was silent. The only thing Holly could see was the door that led into the basement. A light flickered and waned, like a candle.

  She heard a muffled sound and pressed her ear to the door.

  Nothing.

  She tried the door—it was open.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Slowly, Holly opened the door and slid inside. She tiptoed to the basement door and pressed her ear against it, straining to listen. She heard muffled voices again.

  Someone was down there! Were Flea and Lizzie bound down there, their mouths covered in duct tape?

  Open the door very quietly, she told herself.

  She opened it a crack, grateful it didn’t make a sound. She could see Flea standing in the dark, a candle flickering on a table beside her. She was holding something.

  Holly very gently opened the door a bit more, and it creaked.

  Flea jumped. “Holly!” she called in a frantic whisper. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Flea. It’s me! Are you OK? Is Lizzie OK?”