I nudged both Scoots and Beverlee toward the door and turned back to Josie, who offered me a sly thumbs-up.
Call me, I mouthed.
I met Maggie at the hardware store the following morning to keep working on wedding planning. She got there before I did and was leaning against the front window, arms crossed, tapping the toe of her unscuffed cream pumps on the sidewalk.
I gave a finger wiggle. “Good morning.”
She pulled out a notepad, along with a stack of eight by ten glossy photos she must have taken on her phone while we were walking through the space the day before. She fanned them out and balanced them on the paint counter between the wood stirring sticks and a pile of color samples. “Do we want to start with the stage or the pyrotechnics?”
Stifling a groan, I peered down at the list of wedding essentials Mimi had given us. “How about the swing?”
Mimi’s grand vision for the pickle princess included playing up her farm girl roots by having her descend from the ceiling on a jeweled swing instead of gliding down the aisle like a traditional bride.
Maggie agreed with a curt nod as if this were a normal request in the matrimonial world. “Okay, we’ll start there.”
She shuffled the papers until she produced a sketch of a silhouetted bride on a wide wooden swing, the ropes decorated with light pink and white flowers, tulle, and glistening twinkle lights.
As much as I hated to admit it, her vision was better than anything I could have dreamed up.
“This isn’t Cirque du Soleil, Maggie. I know Mimi wants to drop her from the ceiling like a trapeze artist, but we have to think through the logistics.”
Maggie scowled. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. We can just add on to the existing scaffolding that holds the lights. It’s easy to get to, and one of the crew members should be able to rig it up for us.”
“The same scaffolding used to suspend the chandelier that landed on the head of her first groom?” I asked, shooting her a glare. “I’m sure that’s going to go over well.”
“We’d have it inspected beforehand, Glory,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Obviously. And we’d bring in extra safety personnel for the ceremony to ensure her welfare.”
I thought about it for a moment. It would offer the bride a dramatic entrance, one that would be memorable on film, which was the most important thing. I gave a resigned sigh. “You’re right. And your drawing is nice.”
Surprise flickered across her face. “That’s it?”
“What?”
“You’re going to agree with me? Just like that?”
I shrugged. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about,” I said, then pointed down the plumbing aisle, where a man stood pointing his cell phone camera at us. He wore sunglasses and had the hood of his sweatshirt drawn tight over his forehead.
When Maggie wiggled her fingers at him, he whipped around to study a toilet plunger. “Just ignore him. Mimi warned us there would be paparazzi everywhere.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with unease, but I did my best to act normal. I glanced down at Mimi’s list, and I lowered my voice to a whisper. “What about dessert? How are we going to keep a ‘seven-tier wedding cake that stands no less than five feet tall’ from melting into a gigantic pile of white slime in North Carolina humidity and under all those studio lights?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Maggie said, gathering her photos into a stack and tossing her silky blond hair over her shoulder. “We’ll just fake it.”
I caught a gasp before it escaped. “A fake wedding cake?”
“Sure. Do you think all those Hollywood types eat real cake, anyway?” She gave a short bark of laughter. “Not likely. We’ll keep a couple of sheet cakes in the back if they do. And besides, I know a guy.”
“A fake cake guy?”
“Absolutely. He’s a dream to work with. He uses cut-out Styrofoam for the base layers, then decorates with real fondant and sugar embellishments like ribbons and flowers.” She fluttered her fingers. “And presto—a gorgeous cake that will last through a nuclear apocalypse.”
I once read that the only things that could survive a nuclear bomb were cockroaches, which meant that during the end times, we’d be left with a gigantic phony cake and an army of frustrated cockroaches who couldn’t even eat it.
Leave it to Maggie to turn faking it into an art form.
8
“What about roses or a long stem of white gladiolus?” I asked, flipping through a bridal magazine the next morning with Lily. “Something classic and simple.”
She sat with her feet curled up under her in a fuchsia velvet chair in the break room, a half-eaten croissant discarded on the table beside her. She had been distracted since Dan’s return, but this morning I was having a hard time keeping her focus at all.
I swiped my hand in front of her face. “Hello?”
She jerked back to attention. “Sorry. I was thinking about Dan. Did you know we met at the library, of all places? We both grabbed the same marketing book, and it was love at first sight. For me, anyway.”
“I saw the video, Lily. I’d say he was pretty smitten, too.” I found it hard to imagine anyone could fake that level of… enthusiasm.
“I almost didn’t agree when he asked me to dinner. Neither of our families would have approved. Daddy kept telling me I needed to focus all of my attention on Page’s Pickles since he wants to retire in a few years.” She plucked off a piece of her croissant and chewed it slowly. Finally, she continued. “But I couldn’t help myself. Even though my father hated his family, Dan and I had something special.”
I shrugged. “I’m not seeing the trouble so far.”
“After the video came out, his father gave him an ultimatum. Me or the company.” She gave a bitter laugh. “He chose the money.”
I craned my neck and peeked down the hall, where Dan sat in the hot seat, no doubt enduring an interrogation at the hands of Mimi’s production assistants. “He obviously changed his mind, though.”
When I swung back around, Lily’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Maybe, but it’s still all about the money.”
“Then why did you agree when Romance Revival asked him to step in as the second groom? Surely you can find a way out of the contract.”
“The truth is, I don’t enjoy being alone. My mama died when I was eight,” she said. “It was just my daddy raising my sister and me. He was a farmer, so he didn’t know much about little girls. He taught me to hunt and fish, and I could climb a tree faster than any boy in town, but we were still about as girly as they come. The deer head on the wall in our living room wears a pink rhinestone headband to this day.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have been difficult.”
“Yes and no,” she replied, a half-smile flitting across her lips. “Nobody wants to grow up without their mama, but Daddy spoiled me rotten.”
After the scandal, the tabloids had agreed. Their headlines called her a tainted heiress who enjoyed hanging out on the party circuit, but that didn’t jibe with the woman sitting in front of me, tracing her fingers along a picture of a gauzy veil in a bridal magazine.
“I lost my parents when I was young, too,” I whispered, a rush of sadness washing over me. “I know how hard it can be to plan a wedding without your mother there. But your father sounds nice.”
“Darn right, he is,” a loud voice boomed from behind me.
“Daddy!” Lily squealed and leaped up from her chair. She ran across the room and into the outstretched arms of a handsome older man in khaki pants and a Hawaiian shirt. His hair was more salt than pepper, and he appeared to be someone used to getting what he wanted.
“Baby girl, let me look at of you!” Odell Page bellowed as he pushed his youngest daughter out to arm’s length. “I was tickled to get the call from these yahoos that you needed some help to plan your big day. We got here as soon as we could.”
“We?” Lily asked, standing on her toes to peek over her father’s shoulder.
“I’m here.” A young woman with curly brown hair and a vibrant smile came running into the room. “Had to take a pit stop on the way in. He drove like a maniac for the whole two hours, and you know he wouldn’t stop for a bathroom break even if the car was on fire.”
She gave a small wave to the camera. “Hi, I’m Caroline. Lily’s big sister. We would have gotten here earlier, but Daddy worked late last night. I was up past midnight, and he still hadn’t made it home for dinner.”
Caroline beamed at the camera before throwing herself into the group hug.
“I’ve missed you so much.” Lily stepped back, still clinging to the pair. Her lower lip quivered. “Now it seems real. My family is here.”
An invisible band tightened around my rib cage as I watched the Pages circle together, regaling the cameras with tales about growing up on a Southern farm.
“I remember the day I brought that miniature pony home,” Odell said, resting his hand on his jiggling belly. “You two spent the better part of an afternoon coloring his hair pink. Poor guy couldn’t hold his head up in the barn for weeks out of the shame.”
“That was all Lily,” Caroline replied, lifting a finger toward her sister. “I wanted to paint him with those glitter paints Grandma Donna gave us for Christmas.”
Odell looked directly at the camera. “If you have little girls, there can never be enough glitter. Everything has to sparkle. Resign yourself to that fact now, and it will save you a lot of trouble down the road.”
“It’s true.” Lily’s shoulders shook with laughter as she threw her arm around her sister. “Remember that time you insisted your prom date bedazzle his pickup truck to match your dress? That poor guy ended up with his photo emblazoned on the front of our high school yearbook in a lavender sequined cummerbund.”
“That was only because you insisted it would look like the cover of Cosmopolitan.” Caroline gave her sister a teasing smile before bumping her with a hip. “It didn’t, by the way.”
Odell wrapped an arm around Lily. “And get a gander at you now, all grown up and getting married to a city slicker who doesn’t know the first thing about pickles.”
Caroline’s eyebrows flew up to meet her hairline. “I hope that’s not true, Daddy, or else Lily’s new man might have to come to you for some pointers.”
He gave a gruff grunt like a dog that had been woken up too quickly, a quick burst of energy that settled into comfort as he gazed over his two grown daughters. “I’ll teach your fellow about pickles if you want me to. Whatever you need, you can count on me.”
Both girls burst into fits of giggles, while Odell blinked at them in confusion.
“So when can we meet him?” he asked. “Everybody’s been so hush-hush about it. I’d like to get to know the young man who’s about to marry my daughter.”
Lily shifted in her seat. “About that. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Before she could finish, Dan rounded the corner, trailed by a camera crew. He held his hand out to Lily’s father. “My name is Daniel, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Caroline crossed behind Dan and wiggled her brows, then leaned in with a stage whisper. “He’s cuter than in the video.”
“Video?” Odell asked, whipping toward his daughter with a wrinkled brow. “This is the Nichols boy?”
“Daddy, I can explain.”
“Explain?” he asked, his loud voice echoing throughout the warehouse. “There’s nothing to explain. This man took advantage of you and put it on the Internet for everybody and their Grandma Susie to see.”
Lily’s father was taller than Dan by four inches and outweighed him by an easy fifty pounds. “In the back of my truck, I have a chainsaw, a machete, and a deceptively sharp pair of pruning shears,” he said with a scowl, his teeth barely concealed behind a thick, silver mustache. He withdrew a pocketknife from his pocket and flicked it open and closed. “Like I always tell my girls, a smart man comes prepared. You never know when you’re going to need to cut something.”
The two men stared at each other until Caroline finally broke the silence by swatting her father on the arm. “Daddy, stop it. You’re scaring him.”
Dan stepped forward, his palm held out in front of his chest. “Sir, if I could—”
“You most certainly cannot,” he said, turning to Lily. “Go get your things. I’m taking you home.”
Mimi emerged from behind one of the cameras, barely concealing her glee. “I’m sorry, Mr. Page, but your daughter signed a contract. She can’t leave.”
“Then find her another husband,” he boomed. “Because I will kill this man if he lays a finger on my girl.”
When I stepped out of the room, I had a lump in my throat. Sure, Odell was angry. But it was obvious how much he cared about Lily.
When Beverlee took me in as a child, I knew I was lucky to have someone who loved me so well. But now and then, like when I saw the camaraderie that wound through the Page family, I really missed my parents.
My mom was the kind of woman who let me skip the last day of kindergarten so we could test every ice cream parlor on the boardwalk, and my dad was just like Odell: surly, boisterous, and silly, with a heart perfectly shaped for his daughter.
Since I didn’t have a tissue to wipe off the errant tear sliding down my cheek, I swiped a fistful of my cardigan across my face, taking a slow breath in.
When I glanced up, Rocco was leaning against the wall less than twenty feet from me. I stifled my gasp with my sweater before raising my hand to greet him.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quietly. “It’s not often I’m able to get the jump on somebody.”
I could understand why. Like Odell, Rocco was a large man, and with his dark eyes and crazy hair, he looked even more menacing.
A shiver skittered down my spine. There was still a killer on the loose, and it wasn’t a good idea to be alone anywhere right now. I gathered my papers together and stood. “No, I’m glad you’re here. I have too much to do to sit around thinking.” I peered over his shoulder. “And besides, I think somebody is probably waiting for me.”
“That’s why I’m here. Mimi sent me to find you. She wants to shoot some footage of you and the other wedding planner and told me to give you a bit of attention first.”
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The late fall humidity had made it frizzy and combative, and even the strongest elastic band couldn’t keep it in check. “I’m not sure there are enough tools in the world to take care of this, Mr. Sabatino.”
He studied me, then scoffed. “Women like you don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“I was telling Lily this morning that it’s always the most beautiful ones who feel insecure about how they look.” He beckoned me with his fingers. “Now, come on. Glamour doesn’t wait for anybody.”
I followed him down the hallway toward his makeshift beauty salon. When we finally turned the corner, I found Maggie already seated in his chair, a tangled twist of rollers in her hair and a creamy white mask painted on her face. She had earbuds in and was bobbing her head up and down and flipping through a magazine.
I ducked my chin. “Nope. Not going to happen.”
He shrugged. “She wouldn’t stop talking about herself, so I offered her the chance to test one of the face masks my Hollywood clients love. She only had to promise to sit back, relax, and keep her trap shut.”
I lifted a brow. “I don’t want a face mask, no matter how trendy it is.”
“No worries,” he said with a grin, then hunched forward and shielded his mouth from Maggie’s view. “It’s Crisco from the food service area. It was that or shrimp pate, and I was afraid she’d catch on if I made her smell like a seafood buffet.”
I snickered. “So, smelling like fried chicken is okay?”
“Whatever works,” he said, then gestured to the other empty chair. “Now it’s your turn. I hear there’s a lovely lima bean hummus that would tighten those p
ores right up.”
My eyes popped open, and I backed toward the door.
Rocco laughed and pointed to the chair. “Just kidding. Sit.”
I fixed my glare on him as I trudged across the room.
“What is it with all the ladies today?” he asked. “Everybody is so jumpy.”
“Dead bodies do that to people,” I replied.
“I suppose. But between you and me, that particular dead body wasn’t an immense loss to the human population.”
“You weren’t a fan of Team Beau?”
“I just didn’t trust him.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Despite looking like he just won the middle school science fair, he was too smooth. Said all the right things, gave her the attention she wanted, but I didn’t buy it for a split second. Trust me. In this line of work, you get to see behavior that would make even your mop curl.”
“Behavior like… murder?” My breath quickened, and I tilted my head toward him. “Tell me more.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” he responded, running a paddle brush through the back of my hair.
I raised a brow.
“Fine. Twist my arm.” He took a wide-toothed comb and smoothed out my top layer. “Rumor has it he was trying to dip his bread in his competition’s gravy.”
I gasped. “Hazel?”
Rocco acknowledged my question by letting out a dramatic wheeze. “Although why he’d ever choose her over Lily is beyond me. It’s like choosing between prime rib and a truck stop veggie burger.”
“Because every woman wants to be compared to meat,” I said with a groan.
He ordered me to close my eyes, and then I heard the hiss of hair spray. “Don’t worry,” he assured me when he finished spraying, his breath warm on my ear. “You’re at least a chuck steak. Maybe even a ribeye.”
I opened my eyes quickly, ready to confront him for his disrespect. But he was wearing a wide grin, and before he turned to help Maggie wipe the Crisco off her face, he gave me a good-natured wink.
Tying the Knot (A Wedding Crashers Mystery Book 2) Page 8