by Lea Wait
“He will,” Maggie said.
“You and Will had better bring your clothes for the wedding here, too. We’ll all get dressed and go to the church together. That will save time,” Gussie added. “And we have hot water.”
“That works,” Maggie agreed. “Weren’t you going to have your hair done this morning?”
“Lucky Ladies doesn’t have power,” Gussie said. “Which reminds me I’d better call the bakery and tell them to bring the cake here, not to the restaurant.”
“Keep calm. I’ll get there as soon as I can!” Maggie put down the phone and turned to Will. “We’re on wedding duty. The restaurant where the reception was to be is flooded, so they’ve moved the reception to their house.”
Will caught on immediately. “Those windows!”
“Exactly. And a hundred other details. You’re to drop me at Jim’s office, and take Lily to their house. Jim will bring me over as soon as I finish whatever he wants me to do.”
Will looked at her. “Don’t get too far into that legal mess, Maggie. It’s Jim’s wedding day.”
“I am aware. I also know I have to head for New Jersey tomorrow and you’ll head for Maine, and I can’t forget what happened yesterday. Any of it.”
“We have to get through the wedding, Maggie. And then I have to get back to Aunt Nettie.”
Maggie nodded, turning away to fix her hair so Will wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “Thank goodness she made it through the storm fine. Although I know you’re not thrilled with those dents she said that tree made in your RV.”
Will shrugged. “Dents aren’t critical. I’ll see how bad they are when I get back to Waymouth.”
“And right now we have to get going. Where’s your suit?” Maggie asked.
“I’ll get it. Tell me what you’ll need for this afternoon. You get yourself and your cast down those stairs to the lobby. I’ll take everything to the car.”
Fifteen minutes later, after a few detours to avoid streets blocked because of downed trees or wires, or both, Maggie was knocking on the door of Jim’s office.
Andy Sullivan was there with another man Maggie hadn’t met. The three men stood when she came in.
“Maggie, thanks for coming,” Jim said. “I’d like you to meet John Tolland. He’s a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Boston in charge of investigating drug trafficking. John, this is Dr. Margaret Summer, a friend of mine from New Jersey. While she’s been visiting my fiancée and me, Maggie’s learned some things about drugs sales here in Winslow that we feel the FBI would be interested in.”
“Dr. Summer, I appreciate your willingness to share whatever information you’ve found out. Do you mind if we record you?”
Maggie shook her head.
“Then, let’s go ahead.”
Maggie spent the next hour telling the three men everything she had learned about Dan Jeffrey, aka Roger Hopkins, and Diana Hopkins, and especially Cordelia West, Annie Irons, and Rocky Costa.
“We’ll be getting you a copy of this statement to sign,” said John Tolland, taking Maggie’s business card and giving her his. “And we may be contacting you to clarify details. For now, however, I think we have everything necessary to proceed.”
“What’s going to happen?” Maggie asked.
“I can’t tell you exactly,” said Tolland. “But I suspect your friend Jim will keep you updated when he can.”
“He will,” Jim agreed. “But right now Jim has to get going. Because in about two hours he’s getting married.”
Chapter 42
Pleuronectes Passer. Der Lincke Strachlflunder (The Flounder). Rare 1783 hand-colored copperplate engraving by Dr. Marcus Elieser Bloch (1723-1799), a German medical doctor and naturalist, and the most important eighteenth-century ichthyologist. His series of folios (Berlin: Ökonomische Allgemeine Naturgeschicte der Ausländischen Fische) illustrating the world’s fishes, from which this flounder comes, is often cited as the best work on ichthyology until the twentieth century. The beautiful engravings are on thick, cream-colored paper. Folio-sized, in excellent condition. 10 x 16.5-inch sheet. Price: $295.
Diana’s bows on the pews looked lovely, and the extra-large bow on the house door did help guests find their way to the new location of the reception after the ceremony.
Steffie, the flower girl, arrived from Connecticut at the last minute, bearing a large basket of rose petals. When she forgot to drop them until she was almost at the altar, and then threw them liberally at guests seated in the front pews, everyone smiled.
Gussie’s hairdresser, worried about a bride not having her hair done on her wedding day, arrived at Gussie’s home an hour before the wedding and managed to shampoo and pouf her hair into a miracle of elegance, and set her veil perfectly in place. She looked beautiful, as every bride should, and Lily beamed as people admired the heirloom veil.
Gussie’s bouquet smelled a little unusual, but was the subject of much conversation, and Diana said someday she wanted one just like it.
Jim kept smiling and accepting congratulations, while Andy and Ben stood straight and proud. Ben only giggled at the flower girl’s antics once.
After the interview with John Tolland Maggie popped one of the pain pills they’d given her at the hospital, hoping he wasn’t the sort of drug agent who checked everyone’s pocketbooks, and was able to gamely hobble down the aisle in her blue cast while Gussie’s sister Ellen followed, sure Maggie would tumble with every step.
To make up for the lack of a reception hall the Winslow Inn chef had turned the dinner into a constant array of hors d’oeuvres. There were platters of miniature crab cakes and lobster puffs, and small pieces of filet mignon with dabs of horseradish sauce en brochette that were, as Will said to Jim with a sly look, “To die for,” along with bowls filled with cold shrimp, and platters of both fried and raw clams and oysters, and bowls of steamed mussels in wine and herbs. Small potatoes filled with cheese and chives. Mushrooms stuffed with sausage. And of course, flawlessly arranged platters of raw vegetables and fruits.
Champagne flowed. Maggie’s one regret was that because of the pain pill she had to drink club soda, although she did allow herself one glass of champagne for the toast. No extra libation was needed to make the day any better.
Late in the afternoon Jim told her quietly that her new FBI friend had gone directly from their meeting to the jail to talk with Rocky Costa and offered him a deal to testify against Annie Irons. He’d agreed. Annie would be in the hospital for at least a week, and the FBI was requesting a search warrant for the Irons home based on Maggie’s information and what Rocky’d said. It looked as though the drug case would be a simple one to close. The murder investigations would be turned over to the state, not to local police because of the potential conflict of interest.
Gussie was glowing. Diana was happily running errands. She was no longer a suspect, and would be spending the night at Six Gables. Gussie whispered that Jim planned to tell Diana on Monday that Cordelia’s house would soon be hers. Would she choose to stay in Winslow? Who knew? Diana had her whole life ahead of her.
Maggie sat by the window overlooking the Bay, where the waves were breaking higher and much more dramatically than usual on the beach. New England was a beautiful place. Even in a hurricane.
At five-thirty Diana started announcing, “Attention, everyone! Cake! Cutting the cake!”
One of the caterers walked in carrying a beautiful floral-decorated cake that matched the one they’d seen in the bakery picture book.
He placed it on a table in the middle of the room, to the “oohs” and “ahhs” that usually accompanied the arrival of such a creation. And in this case, Maggie thought, they were deserved. The cake was a work of art.
Gussie and Jim stood together, holding a Victorian silver cake knife his aunt had given them as a wedding gift, ready for the classic pose and cut.
But the young man who’d brought in the cake stopped them. He whispered something. Gussie shook her head. Ji
m looked puzzled, but then looked over at his mother, shrugged, and grinned.
He put up his hands for silence. “As most of you know, I grew up in Georgia. In the South, it’s the custom to have two cakes at a wedding. One is the traditional wedding cake, like this one, which is cut by both the bride and groom to signify the beginning of their life together. The other is the groom’s cake. And, it seems that tonight, here in Winslow, we are carrying on that Southern tradition.”
The guests looked at each other in surprise. A groom’s cake was not a familiar custom in Winslow.
The young caterer raced back to the garage. He returned bearing a large flat cake in the shape of a flounder. It was covered with thick chocolate icing, and then carefully decorated with additional icing that outlined the fish’s scales. Hundreds of them.
Jim looked down at the cake. As did everyone else. He tried to keep a straight face as he continued his tutorial. “A groom’s cake is usually chocolate, often laced with liquor, and is shaped in a design symbolizing something important to him.” He looked at Gussie. “I may be wrong, but, my dear wife, I suspect you were not the one who ordered this cake in my honor.”
Gussie shook her head. She’d had a few glasses of champagne, and was trying her best not to burst into giggles.
“Mother?” Jim walked over to Lily, who was trying to back into the crowd. “Mother? Were you the wonderful person who ordered this special groom’s cake for me?”
“Oh, Jim!” said Lily, clearly aggravated. “It was supposed to be a surprise!”
“Well, I assure you it was!” said Jim, as more and more people started to laugh quietly. “What, may I ask, inspired you to have the cake made in the shape of a fish?”
Poor Lily looked as though she was going to burst into tears. “That Yankee baker! Our telephone connection was all static-y, and he must not have understood. I told him I wanted a cake in the shape of scales. Of justice! For a lawyer! He made it look like a dead fish.”
The guests erupted into laughter.
Jim reached over and hugged Lily. “And no one else in Winslow, Massachusetts, has ever had a cake like it. Thank you, Mother. It’s beautiful.”
He put his arm around her and brought her back to stand with him and with Gussie. “Gussie and I are going to cut the first slice of our wedding cake. And then I’m going to cut the first slice of my groom’s cake. And then, everyone, no excuses: it’s time for dessert!”
Will pulled a chair over next to Maggie’s as they watched Gussie and Jim perform the traditional cutting of the cake, and then Jim cutting the groom’s cake. Jim gave Lily the job of cutting the rest of the slices. She looked happy to do it, and even happier when more people wanted slices of the chocolate “dead fish cake” than of the white wedding cake.
“How does your ankle feel? Are you going to be all right to drive home tomorrow?” Will asked Maggie. They’d managed to smile politely but spend as little time as possible together during the reception.
“Luckily, it’s my left ankle. I’ll be fine,” said Maggie.
“This hasn’t exactly been a relaxing ten days for you.”
“Not exactly.”
“And you’re coming back in a couple of weeks to set up your print room at Gussie’s shop.”
“She and Jim invited me to come for Thanksgiving.” Maggie hesitated. “Will, do you think maybe if we had more time to talk, things could be different? Maybe you could come down from Maine then? I could ask them to set an extra place at their table.”
“Aunt Nettie’s planning on roasting an enormous bird and inviting the whole Brewer clan. She’s counting on my being there to help.”
“Oh.”
“I noticed you’re still wearing the R-E-G-A-R-D ring.”
“Do you want it back?”
Will hesitated. “No. I gave it to you. It’s yours.”
“Will, I do love you. Yesterday you caught me off guard.”
“You sure as hell surprised me, too.”
“You were right when you said I needed to be able to change. To compromise. But I have to think about what that means.”
“I love you, too, Maggie. And I’m willing to stretch. But I’ve always been serious when I said I couldn’t be a father. I don’t think I can be the man you want me to be.”
“You asked me a question yesterday. I messed up the answer. Can I have some more time to think it through?”
“How much more time do you need, Maggie? We’ve been together for a year and a half.”
“Another couple of months?”
Will sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure that’s going to make a difference. But, all right. What about Christmas? You get a couple of weeks off from school. How does a Maine Christmas sound?”
“Christmas in Maine sounds wonderful.”
Will looked around at everyone celebrating the wedding, and then at Maggie. “I love you, Maggie. I do. But I can’t change the way I am.”
“I love you, too. And I don’t want to lose you.”
He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. They turned and stood together, looking out at the rough waters on the Bay. “Maine, then. Christmas.”
About the Author
Lea Wait. Although Lea Wait did summer on Cape Cod once as a child, and has visited since, her heart belongs to Maine, where she writes full-time and lives with her artist husband. She’s the mother of four, grandmother of eight, and has been a fourth-generation antique print dealer since 1977. She also writes novels for young people. Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding is the sixth in Wait’s Agatha-finalist Shadows mystery series. She may be visited at www.leawait.com and on Facebook.
Books by Lea Wait
In the Maggie Summer “Shadows” Antique Print Mystery Series
Shadows at the Fair
Shadows on the Coast of Maine
Shadows on the Ivy
Shadows at the Spring Show
Shadows of a Down East Summer
Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding
Novels for children and young adults
Stopping to Home
Seaward Born
Wintering Well
Finest Kind