“There are no coincidences, Sophie. Who said that? Someone wiser than I.”
Maybe he was right. He had appeared just when I needed someone to make Hannah reconsider her decision to marry Craig.
“How is my darling Hannah?”
How to answer that? She’s engaged to a murderer who killed his ex-wife just this morning. No, that didn’t seem right. Tucker was so darned cocky and full of himself that I hated to bloat his head any more. But I needed to plant the idea that Hannah could still be interested in him.
“She’s pretty busy. Her wedding is the day after tomorrow.”
“Who’s the lucky dog?”
“A doctor.” I bit my lip to keep from grinning. The Tucker I remembered would be desperate to win Hannah away from someone who might pose a challenge. “He’s tall and athletic and adores Hannah.”
“Good hair?” he asked.
No point in lying about something he’d figure out the second he saw Craig. “No, you still win in the hair category.”
We reached the front stoop. “I know she’ll be excited to see you.” Dismayed would have been more truthful.
We walked inside and I led the way through the arch to the kitchen. Mom tied the last ribbon on the favors and tucked the little package into a box with the others.
“Look who I found,” I said.
Tucker held his arms wide like a showman. “You know how I love a wedding.”
My father remained seated and grumbled, “You’ve certainly had enough of them.”
My perky mother, who would sooner eat dirt than be rude to anyone, said, “I need an aspirin.” Her shoulders sagged and for the first time in my life, I saw her place her elbows on the table.
But Tucker was on top of his game. The second he saw Jen, he said, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m looking for a little girl . . .” Tucker pretended to gasp. “Can it be? No, I’m looking for a child, about this high.” He bent over to indicate a one-foot-high kid.
Jen ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. It must have been gratifying to know that one person still liked him. He swung her around in a circle, and she giggled like most women did when Tucker fawned over them. It wasn’t fair of him to work his charm on anyone as young as Jen. She hadn’t built up immunity yet.
When he set her down, Tucker, never one to believe that people didn’t adore him, clapped Dad on the back and asked about his golf game. I fetched the aspirin for Mom. She swallowed them with a sip of tea and said, “I wish you had told me you were going to cancel the wedding.”
Tucker latched onto the conversation immediately. “Cancel? The wedding? Trouble in paradise already?” He didn’t seem too troubled by the news, though, as he helped himself to a fruit tart.
There was no way to avoid it. He’d hear about it sooner or later. But while I wondered how to tell him without Jen hearing, Jen said, “Craig’s ex-wife was murdered.”
“The groom’s ex?” Tucker’s pretty-boy face crumpled with worry. “I’m the bride’s ex. Hope no one does me in.”
“Many would like to.” Dad said it with a straight face, but Tucker guffawed.
“My winsome Hannah has seen the light now?” he asked.
Mom sighed and ignored him. “Why did you cancel Carlyle House? Did you run into Hannah?”
“I didn’t cancel anything.”
She frowned at me. “They called here upset about the last-minute cancellation. I tried to explain, but they were quite put out. Rightly so. Fortunately, they were able to book someone else.”
I figured it could only be Hannah who’d canceled the wedding venue.
Mom rubbed her temples. “I hate to think how many people have already made the trip here for the wedding.”
“I suppose we should still go ahead with the party tonight,” I said.
“Party?” Tucker perked up. “Will you be my date?” he asked Jen.
Mom looked like she wanted to toss him out. “If Craig isn’t up to it, everyone will understand. We’ll have to entertain them to try to make up for their trouble. And we’ll do the tour of Old Town tomorrow as planned.”
Tucker consulted his watch. “What time shall I return for dinner?”
“Six.” I hadn’t invited him to dinner, but I figured the sooner he came between Hannah and Craig, the better.
He snatched another fruit tart. “For the road.” Jen held his hand as we walked him to the front door.
He blew kisses to Jen, and as he left, I spied Humphrey watching Craig and Hannah leaving Natasha’s house, as cheerful as if nothing had happened.
EIGHT
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My mother stopped speaking to my sister for a week because she didn’t get thank-you notes out fast enough. How do I avoid getting behind?
—Writing Fast in Wrightsville Beach
Dear Writing Fast,
I don’t know why this poses a problem for brides. Before the wedding, spend a fun afternoon crafting thank-you notes. Use your wedding colors and embellish card stock to reflect the theme of your wedding. Then handwrite a lovely note on the day each gift arrives. You’ll never fall behind. Some guests will bring gifts to the wedding, but one afternoon after the honeymoon is all it takes to catch up.
—Natasha
Craig laughed at something Hannah said. Hardly the bereaved ex-husband.
I sidled up to Humphrey. “You have to tell her.”
But at that moment, Phoebe, Hannah’s college roommate and dear friend, arrived with her boyfriend. Lively Phoebe inspired fun everywhere she went. Petite and perky with hair the color of gleaming copper, she edited scientific books for a publisher in New Jersey. I was thrilled to see her because Hannah would need her closest friend when she heard about the murder.
Phoebe’s boyfriend, whom Hannah introduced as Joel, barely spoke and hung back the way strangers do. He had an open, agreeable face, but his crew cut did nothing to enhance his looks. Although he was portly, I suspected substantial muscle lurked underneath.
I coaxed everyone into the kitchen, where Joel stroked Mochie, who lapped up the attention. While Phoebe and Hannah chattered, it dawned on me that Hannah wasn’t acting like someone who had canceled her wedding. She was playing the happy bride to the hilt.
I studied Craig with suspicion. Tall and strong, he could have lifted Emily. He wasn’t unattractive, in spite of the flap of hair he combed over his balding head, but now that I knew what he was capable of, dread swelled in me just from looking at him. Poor Emily. Would she have caused such a scene that he was driven to kill her? Or would she have exposed him for the dangerous man he was?
He must have felt my scrutiny because he turned his gaze to me. Level and cold, he didn’t flinch.
“Hannah,” I said brightly, “can we borrow you for just a moment?” To the others I said, “Boring wedding detail.”
I motioned for her to follow me to the living room. Humphrey tagged along, and I thought we maneuvered that fairly well.
Hannah gushed over the growing mound of gifts.
Whispering, I said, “I’m glad you canceled Carlyle House. I know that wasn’t an easy decision.”
“Oh, that.” She said it flatly, like it was a subject she’d hoped to avoid.
I waited for her to continue, but she ignored me in an annoying sisterly way and picked up a boxed gift to inspect.
“Well, did you cancel the wedding or not?” I asked.
She sang her response in one high note. “Not.”
I began to feel like strangling someone myself. She’d canceled Carlyle House but not the wedding? In a hushed voice, I said, “Tell her, Humphrey.”
He whispered the bad news, and Hannah lifted a hand to her mouth exactly as our mother had earlier. Unlike Mom, she squinted at me and said, “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
I didn’t argue. Just raised my eyebrows and waited.
“It could have been someone else.” Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t kil
l anyone. He wouldn’t. The fact that you’re jealous doesn’t make my fiancé a killer.”
“Jealous? Of Craig?” I said it too loud.
“Face it, Sophie, Wolf won’t even take you out. And you lost Mars to Natasha. Do you really think I’m going to listen to your advice on love or marriage?”
I intended to shoot a clever remark back at her, but just then I saw a flash of green in the dining room. Tiptoeing as softly as I could across the old hardwood floor, I caught Craig returning to the kitchen, his kelly green shirt unmistakable.
When I turned back to the living room, Humphrey hugged Hannah. I should have done the sisterly thing and joined their little hugfest, but at the moment I wanted to shake some sense into her.
“Did you tell Mom and Dad?” Her mouth twisted into a pout.
I couldn’t believe she even asked. “This isn’t like you lost the keys to the car, Hannah.”
She blasted me with a steamed expression before stalking toward the kitchen.
Humphrey looked like he might be sick. “She’s in denial. We can’t let her go through with the wedding.”
Dad ambled down the stairs. “We ought to put up the tables and chairs in the backyard. Maybe I can convince some of these strong young men to give me a hand.”
Humphrey volunteered immediately. While Dad and Humphrey arranged tables in the backyard and Mom looked through my refrigerator, I walked to Nina’s house to pick up her grill, something I should have done days earlier.
Nina opened the door before I could knock. Words spilled out of her mouth in a torrent, and she paid no attention to a little blur that shot past us into the living room.
“Everyone is talking about Craig’s wife. She got into town last night and stayed at that B&B with the pretty gate out front.”
We walked through her house to the back door, followed by the brown blur, who appeared determined to sneak up behind us. I paused and looked over my shoulder at a nervous dachshund who sniffed my ankles.
I stooped to pet her, but she ran away from me and barked from a safe distance.
“Abused, I’m afraid,” said Nina. “I’m trying to prove to her that no one will hurt her anymore. Her name’s Hermione.” We stepped outside and Hermione whimpered behind the screen door, brave now that I was ten feet away.
“The cops have been swarming the B&B and the owner is none too happy about that. Apparently Emily paid cash for her room for two nights. Now why would she do that if she planned to kill herself?”
“She didn’t. Someone murdered her.”
Nina’s eyes flicked wide. “I have got to get better sources of information.”
I told her what Humphrey had learned.
She stopped in front of an enormous stainless steel grill. “Might have been two people, huh? I mean, it took some strength to string her up like that.”
Nina was too considerate to come right out and say it, but I knew what she meant. What if Hannah had helped Craig murder Emily and then they staged the fight? No. That couldn’t be what had happened because I knew my sister. She might lose touch with common sense when it came to Craig, but even her addled love for him wouldn’t cause her to do something against her core principles.
But the cops didn’t know that.
I wished I could roll back time. I felt certain Emily didn’t deserve her terrible death, and I wished Hannah could return to being the feted bride instead of a murder suspect.
Why had Emily come in the first place? “How many nights did she pay for?” I asked.
“Two.” Nina inhaled sharply. “I see what you mean. If she came yesterday and only paid for two nights, then she didn’t intend to stay for the wedding.”
“So much for Craig’s claim that she meant to ruin the wedding. But then why did she come?”
NINE
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
I found the wedding dress of my dreams. But my fiancé’s sister, who is getting married one month before us, has bought two wedding dresses! Everyone will compare our weddings. What’s up with the extra dress?
—Dressed Up in Duck Springs
Dear Dressed Up,
A chic bride wears two haute couture wedding dresses on the day all eyes are on her. A demure, traditional gown for the ceremony and a slinkier dress for dining and dancing at the reception. Those who go all out with a post reception party may wish to change into a third high fashion dress for dancing.
—Natasha
I lifted the lid of the grill. Three huge burner compartments gleamed. “Have you ever used this?”
Nina hesitated. “There are people who believe I’ve used it.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Nina loved to eat but hated cooking.
“The barbecue joint over on King Street is terrific,” she whined. “I couldn’t make anything that delicious if I tried. Actually, you’re doing me a big favor by using it. My story will be much more believable if the grill gets a little charring on it.”
We rolled it through her service alley and out to the sidewalk. The thing weighed a ton, so we would have to be very careful getting it over the curb. I focused on the wheels, ready to help the first set over the hump.
“Can I give you a hand with that?” Craig called from across the street. He and Hannah dashed over. He planted his feet firmly and scooted the whole thing off the curb. Before I knew it, Hannah had stopped oncoming traffic and Craig was lifting the grill over the curb in front of my house.
Meanwhile, Humphrey joined us on the sidewalk. “I must return to work. But I look forward to dining with you this evening.”
I feared he was leaning in for a peck on the cheek, so I rotated and called out to Hannah. Now was as good a time as any to find out what was really going on with her wedding. “Wait a sec, Hannah.”
Craig rolled the grill through my gate and disappeared into the backyard, but Hannah crossed the street and joined us.
As sweetly as I could, I said, “See you tonight,” to Humphrey. He walked away, looking dejected and making me feel terrible.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. Addressing Hannah, I asked, “If you canceled Carlyle House, where will the wedding take place?”
Hannah tossed her hair dramatically. “Natasha booked a better venue. They squeezed us in as a favor to her. I only wish we’d made the change sooner because we could have invited so many more guests.”
Even though I was stunned, I managed to choke out, “And where is this better place?”
“It’s a big hotel, very modern. They can set up an after-dinner ice lounge for dancing the night away.”
“Ice lounge?” She rendered me speechless. Hadn’t we sat at my kitchen table and planned it all? I distinctly recalled her saying she wanted a garden wedding, refined but not stuffy. And Craig had been adamant about a small wedding. When we found that Carlyle House had a limited capacity, that solved everything.
“I saw a picture on the Internet. It’s all blue with dim lights and acrylic chairs and everything in it, the tables and the bar and the vases, are all made of ice.”
“I know what an ice lounge is,” I said, a wee bit of frostiness creeping into my tone, “but that will cost you a small fortune. Did you or did you not sit in my kitchen and tell me that you had a firm budget?”
Hannah placed her fists on her hips. “You see? There you go, trying to spoil my wedding. This is exactly the reason I’ve asked Natasha to help you. She doesn’t hate Craig like you do, she’s not jealous that I’m getting married, and she’s much more in tune with modern weddings.”
As though the devil had been summoned by mere mention of her name, Natasha strode toward us, every last hair in place, carrying the heart topiary I’d forgotten about. “Hannah, come on, we have so much to do. These things never should have been left for the last minute.”
That barb hit home and I could feel my ears flushing. Nothing had been left undone, and I resented the implication.
“Phoebe’s coming with us,” said Hannah
. “Wonder what the guys will do to keep busy? Uh, Soph, could you change the flowers on your house to tans and chocolates? Before tonight’s party, if possible.”
My sister had officially lost her mind. As if I had the time or inclination. Tans and chocolates? Did flowers even come in those colors?
The Diva Takes the Cake Page 5