His mouth formed a grim line. “Guess.”
“Oh.”
“Now do you think it’s time you stay the hell away from him?”
The nagging feeling I’d had about Stan definitely intensified after finding out about his soon-to-be-acquired inheritance. “That won’t actually be a problem since Savannah has me working tonight.” I added gently, “I take it you’re not going to the ball.”
Shaking his head, he said, “You know, even though I was considering breaking up with Cecilia, I still cared about her. And I may act tough, but this whole thing has me more upset than I’m letting on.” He wiped a hand down his face. “It’s a lot to process.”
I reached over and patted his knee. “I know. And I’m here for you. Except for later when I’m ditching you to go to the ball.” I looked at my watch. “Ooh. Make that when I’m ditching you now to go home and get ready for the ball.”
Pete looked miserable. He asked forlornly, “You have to start getting ready now?”
“Savannah’s picking me up early so I can help her put the finishing touches on the ballroom.” He was still pouting, so I offered, “You’re welcome to come over and hang out while I get ready, if you want to. I’ll probably need help zipping up my dress.”
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Pete was really in a bad place if he wasn’t even remotely interested in the possibility of getting a glimpse of some side boob.
—
While I showered and got ready, Pete sat on my new couch and played the guitar he had given me for my birthday. It was a beauty, and he could make it sound amazing. I could play chords well enough to sing along, but Pete could really play. Not surprisingly, his song choices today were all depressing and in minor keys that somehow sounded even sadder than normal, like his emotions were pouring out of his fingers and onto the strings. He didn’t seem to want to talk much, so I didn’t press him.
Once my hair and makeup were done, I was ready to put on my ball gown. It wasn’t mine exactly—Savannah had talked one of her friends into letting me borrow it. Evidently it was a “last season” style, and her friend couldn’t be caught dead in it this year. Whatever. I didn’t care. It was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. It was a stunning emerald green ball gown, fitted to the hips, the bodice tastefully adorned with a spray of rosettes made out of the same silky fabric as the dress. The skirt was my favorite part—it was a pick-up style with a rhinestone holding each tuck point, with a slit on one side to show a little leg. I felt like a princess.
The act of wrestling myself into the dress had made me break out in a sweat. I tried desperately to get the thing zipped, but damned if I didn’t need help. Sighing, I opened my bedroom door and shuffled out to Pete.
He looked up at me, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Jules, you look…”
A slow smile spread across my face. “Ooh, I must look good. Pete Bennett’s never speechless.”
“You’re breathtaking,” he said, standing up and stepping toward me. His eyes held mine, unblinking. I felt my heartbeat quicken slightly.
Trying to appear calm, I said, “Thanks. Can you help me with the zipper?” I turned around, and he slowly zipped up my dress. When his fingers brushed against my bare back, goosebumps erupted over my entire body. I jumped away from him quickly. Considering his delicate state of mind, I didn’t feel right about allowing this to turn into one of our awkward, too-friendly moments, so I hurried back to my room to search for my shoes.
My phone rang, and it was Savannah. “I’m outside your apartment, girlie. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Be right down,” I replied.
I found my shoes and headed for the door. As I passed my desk, my eyes caught a sparkle from the bracelet Stan had given me. The green inset stones matched my dress so perfectly, I couldn’t resist placing it on my wrist even though I had mixed feelings about the gift as well as the giver.
When I returned to my living room, I said to Pete, “My ride’s here. Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”
He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
Studying his face for a moment, I said, “Maybe I shouldn’t go. I’ll just let Savannah know—”
He stopped me. “No, you’re going. After the day you’ve had, you deserve a little fun.”
I smiled. “Thanks, but you know, it’s probably not going to be that much fun. I’m pretty convinced that Savannah will be a slave driver, and when I’m not working, I’ll be hanging with Stan.”
“Or avoiding him.”
I hated to flat-out ignore Stan, especially after what he’d had to deal with today, but I didn’t want to get into it with Pete right now. “Either way, it should be one hell of an evening.” I put my hand on his cheek and added gently, “Call me if you need me.”
He pulled me in for a hug. “I will.”
After a long moment, he let me go, and we left my apartment.
When I got into the back of Savannah and Carl’s car, Savannah asked, “Did you need ‘help’ getting your dress on? Pete couldn’t take his eyes off you just now.”
Carl added, “I think I saw some drool in the corner of his mouth.”
“Pipe down, you two. Pete’s having a rough day. I feel bad about leaving him alone.”
Savannah frowned. “Oh, right. Sorry. How is he holding up?”
“Not great. And it didn’t help that he insisted on us going over to Delta’s house earlier to give our condolences. Those people are insane.”
“Don’t get me started,” Carl griped. “They all seemed to think that because I was there to help when Abigail fell, I’m now her personal physician. They’ve been calling me non-stop at home, insisting I make a house call and begging for meds. I made it clear that’s not going to happen. I’m a heart surgeon, for crying out loud, not a family practice hack.”
This rant was very out of character for the always-jovial Carl. I said, “Wow, Carl. Tell us how you really feel.”
Carl chuckled. “Sorry, it’s just that they’re driving me crazy.”
Savannah said uneasily, “Speaking of crazy, I wanted to talk to you about something, Juliet. I spoke to Stan earlier, and he’s not acting right. After all that’s happened, we thought you may want to steer clear of him. Are you two still dating?”
“Well, I’m his date to the ball tonight, and I have no idea what I should do. I like him, but I have a bad feeling about him I can’t shake. It’s a moot point at the moment, because I can’t very well tell him to get lost today of all days. I feel for the guy. I probably should just sit down and talk with him.”
“You’re being too nice. If I were you, I’d avoid him like the plague,” Savannah said.
“I agree,” said Carl. “It shouldn’t be an issue anyway, because my dear wife will be keeping you busy all night.”
Giving Carl a mock punch on the arm, Savannah said, “Oh, don’t scare the poor thing. Juliet, I’ll only make sure you’re as busy as you need to be to keep Stan out of your hair.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Carl and Savannah had my back.
Chapter 8
When we stepped into the banquet hall, my breath caught in my throat. I had never seen such a beautifully decorated room in my life. There were flowers everywhere, and the whole place was done in shades of white, the only punches of color coming from sparingly placed red poinsettias. There were too many twinkling Christmas trees to count, and the room was beginning to glow as the waitstaff bustled around, lighting the thousands of candles placed throughout the room. It was a freaking winter wonderland.
“Savannah,” I breathed. “Did you do all of this? The place looks amazing.”
She smiled shyly. “Thank you, and yes, the décor was my idea. Cecilia organized the rest, but she let me have free rein on the room.” Savannah was even dressed to match, wearing a fur-trimmed winter white gown with a single red silk poinsettia flower pinned in her hair. “Now, we need to get down to business.�
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Savannah had Carl and me set out all of the four hundred place cards on the tables. According to Carl, the more you paid for your table, the better your seat. When I found my card, I had a fleeting thought of moving it to a different table from Stan’s, but didn’t, figuring I wouldn’t be sitting much anyway.
We then moved on to setting out the auction items so people could peruse them before the bidding started. Cecilia had scored some seriously desirable items from local retailers—everything from hotel packages to jewelry to landscaping, all of which were likely to bring in some hefty donations for the children’s charity. Savannah bustled around, giving directions to the caterers and staff, but I could tell she was anxious. Even though Carl and I were trying our best, we were no replacement for Cecilia. Savannah was still doing a wonderful job of keeping everything running smoothly, though.
When guests started showing up, Savannah took their tickets and welcomed them while I stood inside the ballroom and directed people to their tables. The time passed quickly and easily—that is, until Stan showed up.
“Darling,” he said, his charming smile in place as he approached me. He looked me up and down, taking my hand. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
“Thank you, Stan. You look handsome as well.” He looked fabulous in his designer tuxedo, which probably cost more than my car.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Do you think you can leave your post to have a drink with me?”
Taking a step back, I said, “Oh, sorry. Not right now. I’ll catch up with you soon, though.”
He kept smiling, but his eyes were a little cold. “I’ll be waiting,” he murmured.
Stan wandered off, and I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I directed the other guests to their seats. He would approach a group, and you could see the people visibly stiffen and lean away from him. They’d speak to him for a moment, but then disperse one by one, leaving him alone. It happened several times, and I could tell by the look on his face that it was getting to him. Speculation about Abigail’s accident must have spread like wildfire. I was amazed by how quickly these socialites turned on one of their own, especially on a day when they should have been reaching out to console him. They seemed not to want to talk to him, for any reason, even to press him for firsthand information about Cecilia’s murder. Feeling a little guilty, I resolved not to do the same.
Once everyone had arrived, Savannah, Carl, and I began shuttling all of the donation items backstage for the auction following dinner. When we had finished, Savannah walked onstage to the podium. “Welcome, everyone, and happy holidays. Thank you so much for supporting the Holiday 5K and our local Christmas Children charity. Before we begin, I want to take a moment to remember our beloved Cecilia Hollingsworth, who passed away last night. I hesitated to go on with the event without her, but a friend of ours convinced me to turn the ball into a celebration of her life.” She glanced over in my direction and smiled. “Cecilia was a true-blue philanthropist, and I want to dedicate this night to her. She worked tirelessly to put the 5K and the ball together for our community, and for that we should all be grateful. Please join me in a moment of silence.”
The room hushed, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. Despite our horrible relationship, I had never wished Cecilia any actual harm. It was a tragedy that her young life had been cut so short. I hoped this time the police would do a better job of catching the killer.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice when Savannah started speaking again. I felt Carl link his arm through mine and give me a pull. Before I knew what was happening, I was on a stage in front of four hundred people, all looking at me as Savannah finished saying, “…couldn’t have done it without the help of my husband, Carl, and my friend Juliet Langley.”
I froze, my heart nearly stopping. I couldn’t get any air into my lungs, and I started seeing bright lights and black spots in front of my eyes. I had to get off the stage, now. Jerking my arm away from Carl, I stumbled back behind the curtains and barely made it to the nearest trash can. I retched, getting a couple of weird looks from some of the staff who were working the sound and lighting system. After I finished vomiting, I took in a couple gulps of air. At least I could breathe again, but I thought I might pass out anyway.
Carl rushed over to me, eyes wide but calm. “Juliet! What happened?” He studied my face and checked my pulse, then gave me his handkerchief. He had quite a comforting bedside manner, which I very much appreciated.
I wiped off my chin and said quietly, “I have extremely bad stage fright. Like paralyzing.”
He nodded and turned to one of the staff members. “Could you get her some water, please?” As the girl scurried off, Carl found a chair and led me over to it. “Have a seat. If I can’t get you back to one hundred percent, wifey will have my head!”
I laughed weakly, holding my throbbing head. This was exactly why I wasn’t a music performer anymore. One horrible night at a concert, I forgot the words to one of my own songs, and that was it. I had never been able to be in front of a crowd since. My music career went down the toilet, and I turned to food service. I was an ass-backward Cinderella story. The waitress returned with my water, which I accepted gratefully.
Savannah hurried over to me then, her face etched with concern. “Sweetie, what happened? You look a fright.”
“Fright is right—stage fright.”
She took my hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I never would have told Carl to pull you out onstage if I’d thought about it. Forgive me?”
“Already done. It’s not your job to keep track of my neuroses.”
“Well, at least you can rest for a bit. Dinner is next.”
“Some food should help.”
“By the way, I switched your place cards to our table.” Savannah winked at me. “You won’t have to deal with Stan alone.”
I felt decidedly better as Savannah and Carl led me to my new table. Stan was waiting there, ready to pull out my chair for me. His gentlemanly manners were nice and all, but sometimes I would much prefer Ryder tossing me a box of Chinese takeout and flopping down next to me on the couch. Why did he keep popping into my mind?
Stan squeezed my shoulder and asked knowingly, “Did you have a bout of stage fright?”
“Yes, but I’m fine now,” I replied, laying my hand on his. Stan was still as thoughtful as ever where I was concerned, which made me feel guilty for suspecting him of any wrongdoing.
There were two other couples at our table. One was eyeing Stan disdainfully. They seemed to be looking down their noses at me, too, I assumed because of my association with Stan. I didn’t care. These rich assholes didn’t scare me. That is, unless I was standing on a stage in front of them.
The man who wasn’t glaring at Stan said, “Well, Stan, my boy. It seems you’ve just won the inheritance lottery. Need a seasoned, recently fired Hollingsworth Industries CEO to help you through the transition?” His voice sounded like Foghorn Leghorn’s—heavily accented and like his mouth was full of butter.
Stan smiled, probably because this guy was the first person to be nice to him this evening. “I just might, Charles. Why don’t we have lunch on Monday to discuss it?”
Foghorn/Charles replied, “Good man. I was a little worried about our company with your sister in charge. Bless her heart.”
I had lived in the South long enough to know that “bless his/her/your heart” did not mean what we Yankees thought it should. Loosely translated, “bless your heart” meant “you’re a dumbass.” I assumed this guy had no use for Cecilia because the first thing she did when she took over the family business was kick him to the curb. I’d probably be pissed about that, too.
Foghorn continued, “But with the two of us at the helm, I reckon we’ll take the furniture world by storm.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Stan, smiling more broadly than he had in a while. “I feel like the market is finally starting to pick up again. Th
e luxury furniture industry is poised for huge growth over the next few years.”
“Stan, I like the way you think.” He leaned closer to Stan but didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Between you and me, I believe our new line of fainting couches is going to make us rich.” He stopped to let out a big belly laugh. “Well, rich-er!”
Stan joined in his laughter. I had witnessed Stan schmooze with people before, and I had to say, it wasn’t exactly a turn-on. Personally, I couldn’t imagine that fainting couches were going to be the wave of the future. It sounded like a terrible business decision to me, but what did I know? When Stan and Foghorn finally quit patting themselves on the back, the other couple was still looking at us with distaste, and Carl and Savannah both seemed a little embarrassed. I didn’t blame them. Thank goodness it was time for dinner.
The entire waitstaff descended on the ballroom at once, all of them carrying stacks of plates covered with gleaming silver domes. They pulled the domes off everyone’s food with the same flourish, which impressed me. My staff could barely serve coffee without spilling it on our customers. Maybe I needed to try to get some of these staffers to defect over to Java Jive.
Before I could take a bite of my dinner, my phone rang. I got a few sneers for getting a phone call during dinner, but I had to answer it. Between being a crime scene witness, managing a coffeehouse, and having a best friend in an emotional state, I needed to be available.
The caller ID showed that the call was from the police department. I got up and said, “Sorry, I have to take this,” and hurried out of the ballroom.
“Hello?”
“Jules,” Pete said, his voice strained.
My stomach clenched. Something was very wrong. “Pete? Why are you calling from the police station?”
“Why do you think?”
Chapter 9
“WHAT?” I exploded. “Did you get arrested? What for?”
I heard him suck in a gulp of air. “For…Cecilia’s murder.”
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