The Diva Takes the Cake

by Davis, Krista

  While Mom and Dad entertained the few stragglers, Daisy, Mochie, Jen, and I holed up in the tiny den and I made the phone calls I should have made the day before to cancel everything. The florist, musicians, minister, rental house, ice sculptor, photographer, and caterer all took the news well. And why shouldn’t they? They would all be paid anyway. I marked them off one by one after calling.

  Mochie rode on Jen’s shoulder while she danced in and out of the den to the sunroom and back. “Somebody’s in the shed.”

  “Uh-huh.” I punched numbers into my calculator, sick over the wasted money.

  “They must be looking for something.”

  “What?”

  “Somebody is in the shed looking for something.”

  Someone looking for the knife he’d left in there last night? I flew through the sunroom and out the door. My Keds thudded softly against the grass as I ran across the lawn. I jerked open the door to the potting shed and found Hannah wrapped in a man’s arms, engaging in a hot smooch—the kind I longed to share with Wolf.

  NINETEEN

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  Unlike the brides I see on TV, I’m on a budget. How do I get the most bang for my buck in reception decor?

  —Not Rich in Northlakes

  Dear Not Rich,

  Table linens go a long way in adding a punch of color. Avoid all the fancy toppers and gauzy overlays that drive up the price. Votive candles don’t cost much, but they’re used at expensive weddings because they’re versatile and effective. Buy simple glass votives on eBay or at your local craft or dollar store. Group four or five together for maximum impact.

  —Sophie

  The man embracing Hannah had hair so blond it verged on white.

  I slammed the door shut. Humphrey? And Hannah? It took a minute to get used to the idea. Could be worse. Wasn’t Craig. Wasn’t Tucker. I couldn’t help giggling.

  Half my relatives ran across the lawn toward me, Jen and Daisy leading the way.

  A chorus of “What is it” and “What’s going on” pelted me.

  “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

  But cute little Jen persisted. “Who’s in there?”

  When I felt pressure on the door behind me, I gladly moved aside to let Hannah suffer the consequences.

  She stepped out, her hair mussed. Humphrey followed, and for the first time in my adult life, I saw rosy color in Humphrey’s face.

  The little crowd of relatives stared at them in silence until Dad began to chuckle. “At least it’s not Tucker.”

  The pressures and ups and downs of the last two days were finally released as everyone broke into spirit-cleansing laughter. Tears ran down Mom’s face as she guffawed. A stranger walking in on us would have thought we’d all gone mad.

  “It’s cocktail hour,” I announced. We had an abundance of ingredients for Wedded Blitz Martinis to use up.

  Near the shed, Dad, more relaxed than I’d seen him all weekend, embraced Mom and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

  I swung an arm around Jen and walked back to the house with her. In the kitchen, we found Phoebe staring daggers at Joel.

  “I wondered where everyone went,” said Phoebe. “I hope you don’t mind that we let ourselves in. All the girls are coming over here to get dressed. You know, to distract Hannah a bit.”

  It seemed to me that Hannah was plenty distracted. “Hannah just got caught playing kissy-face with Humphrey out back.”

  Phoebe sputtered. “Humphrey? Oh, she’ll regret that.” She tossed her purse, a dress bag, and a small duffel onto the chair next to the fireplace and ran outside.

  “Everything okay?” I asked Joel, as I took food from the refrigerator.

  He stopped midway out the door. “Phoebe’s mad at me because I said everything turned out for the best. It’s a good thing Craig showed his true colors before they tied the knot.”

  “I think so, too.” He ambled off, and I sliced chicken breasts into chunks and tossed them in fiery Jamaican jerk spice. While I cut a pineapple and red peppers, Jen threaded pieces onto long skewers. I dropped fresh tomatoes into the food processor and added basil from my garden, sweet Vidalia onions, jalapeño peppers, a red pepper, garlic, and lime juice. It whirled into a crimson salsa in minutes. Jen dumped organic white and blue corn tortilla chips into baskets that we loaded onto a large wooden tray along with the bowl of salsa. When Nina arrived with Hermione, I immediately enlisted her help in bringing the food outside.

  She elbowed me as I arranged food on the patio table. “Is that adorable?”

  I followed her line of sight to Mars. He was perched on a chair with Daisy between his knees, talking with Joel, who rolled a ball for Hermione. It was a cute scene, and I knew it made Nina happy to see Hermione wag her tail and bravely bring the little ball back to Joel. But I didn’t understand why Mars kept turning up at my house. It wasn’t as though I wanted to throw him out. Our divorce hadn’t been acrimonious. Nevertheless, a person like my mom could get the wrong idea. She was already watching Hannah and Humphrey with a gleam in her eye.

  Nina and Phoebe offered to carry out beer, and as the three of us returned to the house, Nina said, “Phoebe and Joel are having a spat.”

  “It’s more than that.” Phoebe’s fair complexion turned rosy. “He’s been so weird since we got here, ignoring me and hanging out with the guys. I thought this would be a romantic weekend, but all he’s interested in is the Civil War and guy stuff.”

  She wasn’t the only one who mistakenly thought the weekend would be romantic.

  I’d just finished pouring a tray of Wedded Blitz Martinis when Hannah’s bridal party arrived in full force. They pounced on the martinis, shrieking and carrying on. I mixed more as they thundered up and down the stairs between the bathrooms and Hannah’s large attic room, getting dressed and made up for their evening out.

  I didn’t think Hannah had actually forgotten Humphrey, but when I saw him on the window seat in my kitchen, he seemed alone and forlorn, watching the girls have fun.

  Tucker rapped on the door and ambled in, yawning. “Sophie, doll, do you have any coffee?”

  “Please tell me you didn’t just get up.” I’d never met another adult who managed to sleep past noon and party all night.

  Hannah bounced in, clearly feeling better, and Tucker wasted no time sweeping her into his arms, waltzing her around the kitchen and dipping her. Hannah giggled and went along with his silliness, but I thought silent Humphrey might explode.

  He’d turned a ghastly shade of pewter. “My good man, just because Craig has left doesn’t mean you can swoop in and claim Hannah as yours.”

  Hannah bit her lip, probably to keep from laughing, but Tucker, still holding her in a dip, stopped monkeying around. “Craig left you?”

  Shooting a killer look at Humphrey, Hannah stood up and explained what had happened. Tucker fell to one knee and clasped Hannah’s hand in his. “Come away with me, my fair damsel.”

  Humphrey sputtered. He rose from his seat, his fists clenched, his elbows flapping like a nervous chicken. “Unhand her!”

  “Oh, Humphrey, calm down. It’s just Tucker’s baloney.” Hannah bent her head close to Tucker. “And no, you cannot have your grandmother’s diamond brooch back.”

  Tucker stood and hid his dismay quickly. “You wound me to the core.”

  Hannah brushed him off and when I handed him a cup of coffee, he moseyed outside, muttering something about not being appreciated.

  Lowering her head bashfully, Hannah met my eyes and asked, “Truce?”

  Every bride was entitled to be a Bridezilla and even though Hannah had taken it to new heights, she’d also faced more dilemmas than the average bride. Besides, no matter what she did, she’d always be my kid sister. “Truce.”

  We hugged and when I released her, she said, “What a worm. You know Tucker would sell that brooch.“

  I was surprised that Hannah would have kept his family heirloom. “Do you still
have it?”

  She whispered, “I gave it back to his mother years ago.” Wiggling her eyebrows as though thrilled with her little deception, she asked, “Can I borrow your fuchsia top? The silk one? And the earrings you wore last night and . . .”

  “Oh, yes! I am so sick of your colorless clothes. Raid the closet.” I released a deep breath, relieved that the Craig phase of her life was over. She tore out of the kitchen, and I could hear her dashing up the stairs as someone knocked on the door.

  Humphrey opened it for Darby. She deposited her purse on the chair by the fireplace next to Phoebe’s items. “I wanted to say good-bye. Since there won’t be a wedding, I’m taking off. All of you have been so nice to me. I’m sorry Hannah went through this with Craig. She didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

  I offered her a Wedded Blitz.

  “I’ve got a taxi waiting, hon.” She brushed her hair out of her face and fanned herself with her hand. “Well, maybe a very quick one.”

  I handed her a drink. “Are Robert and Stan leaving, too?”

  “I don’t know their plans. I drove down with them but I figured I’d just take the train home. I gotta tell ya, I’m still very shaken by Emily’s death.”

  This was my last chance to ask her anything about Craig. “You’ve known Craig so much longer than we have. Do you think that’s why he ran off? Because he murdered her?”

  She downed the last of her martini and spoke carefully, as though she were considering her words. “I would like to say Craig could never, never do anything like that. But he’s surprised me before, so as much as I’d like to count him out, I’m not sure you can.” Her demeanor changed and she turned into the old, enthusiastic Darby. “Hey, if you’re ever in Jersey, I hope you’ll look me up.”

  She jotted down her phone number, and I gave her mine.

  As Darby left through the kitchen door, Natasha barged in and I began to feel like I should install a revolving door.

  The mere sight of Natasha’s stormy expression tired me. We were all feeling so much better now that Craig was out of our lives. Natasha was probably upset that I hadn’t laundered and returned her linens yet, but I couldn’t be bothered with her nonsense. I braced for the storm. “Wedded Blitz?”

  Natasha waved away the drink I held out to her. “Where is my mother?”

  I hadn’t expected that. “I’m sure I have no idea. Have you checked my backyard? Maybe she’s having drinks with my parents.”

  Carrying a tray of martinis, I accompanied Natasha out back, where most of my family had gathered. Wanda wasn’t present, but Mars still stroked Daisy and chatted with Joel and Nina.

  Natasha’s nostrils flared when she saw Mars. Trilling sweetly, she called, “Mars, may I have a word?”

  I stood slightly behind Natasha and made a monster face at him when he walked over.

  “Why,” she hissed, “must you be here when we have guests of our own to entertain?”

  Mars held up his hands innocently. “Your mom went out, and Kevin’s getting ready to take off. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal,” she waved at my mom but she clipped her words angrily, “is that Mordecai is supposed to arrive for drinks in fifteen minutes and no one is at our house.”

  Mars groaned. “Mordecai again? Just bring him over here.”

  “I will not. He’s our guest and deserves to be entertained accordingly, not at some makeshift backyard barbecue.”

  I opened my mouth to defend our impromptu cocktails, but a bloodcurdling scream shattered the happy gathering.

  TWENTY

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  My cousin has three brats that will ruin my wedding. She and her mother refuse to attend unless the nightmare children are invited. My niece and nephew will act as flower girl and ring bearer, and my cousin insists that means I can’t exclude her children. I’m having an elegant black-tie dinner with dancing, hardly something that would interest children anyway. What do I do?

  —Not a Bridesmaid Anymore in Angier

  Dear Not a Bridesmaid,

  It’s quite common and sensible to establish a “no children” policy for a wedding. Only the most daft, addled mothers would think for a moment that children in the wedding party wouldn’t be exempt from that policy. Be firm and provide a trusted babysitter at the hotel.

  —Natasha

  Everyone looked around in confusion, searching for the source, but one of us knew exactly where the scream originated. Daisy galloped to the kitchen door. Trusting her instincts, I raced behind her. Inside, she bounded up the stairs, didn’t pause at the landing, and ran up to the third floor. She lost me at the second floor but I heard her growling. Forcing my leaden legs and gasping for breath, I clambered up the last flight.

  Phoebe stood at the top of the stairs, her hands shaking. “He . . . he’s in the closet,” she stammered.

  Warily, I peeked into the bedroom. Daisy snarled at the closet door, her upper lip lifted into scary wrinkles, baring her teeth.

  I could hear people churning up the stairs. Moving slowly, I entered the little bedroom, afraid I might find blood. She’d said he. Craig’s father? Uncle Stan? Kevin?

  Phoebe had jammed a chair under the doorknob of the closet. Good thinking for a panicked person. Dreading what I would find, I slid the chair away.

  Mars, Joel, and Dad pressed into the bedroom with me.

  I reached for the doorknob but before I touched it, it turned by itself.

  The door swung open and Craig stepped out, perfectly fine and looking sheepish. “I think I frightened Phoebe. I just wanted to have a moment alone with Hannah.”

  Hannah pushed us aside and melted into Craig’s arms.

  When I recovered from my shock that he’d returned, I was furious that he’d slithered into my house and had the nerve to hide himself. Why hadn’t he come out to the garden? What kind of person hid like that? Maybe he hadn’t been waiting for Hannah at all.

  Dad sounded angrier than I felt. “Now look here, young fellow. We’ve had about enough of this nonsense. First your ex-wife is murdered, then you run off and abandon Hannah, and now you reappear like some kind of fugitive, scaring us to death.”

  If Hannah heard him, she didn’t show it. She clung to Craig like he was her last friend in the world.

  “You two,” Dad pointed at Mars and Joel, “don’t let Hannah out of your sight.”

  He tugged my sleeve and motioned to the door. In the hallway he whispered, “Call Wolf. I’m not having any more of this. If Wolf has something on that man, he’d better say so now.”

  Mochie crouched in the hallway, ready to pounce or run depending on what happened. Cautiously, he stalked to the doorway to see what was going on.

  Dad was right, of course. Even though Hannah would treat me as a traitor again, I hurried to my bedroom and made the call to Wolf, who promised he’d be right over.

  I took a second to run a brush through my hair and apply a little eye makeup. When he didn’t arrive immediately, I pawed through my closet until I found a cute turquoise sundress that belted at the waist. The skirt flared out and made my waist appear a bit smaller. I swapped the Keds for sparkly white sandals and hurried back downstairs.

  Agitated by the scream and subsequent commotion, Mochie ran through the house at top speed, bouncing off furniture and turning at walls like a swimmer. When the knocker sounded, I scooped him up so he wouldn’t fly out into the street.

  Wolf did a double take when I opened the door. Did I look so shabby the rest of the time? I hoped for a peck on the cheek, but Dad interrupted, his jaw set with determination.

  “Is he a suspect? Are you going to arrest him?”

  “Sorry, Mr. Bauer. He’s still only a person of interest. There’s just no evidence tying him to Emily’s murder.”

  “None?” A chill ran through me. Would he get away with it? A lot of murders went unsolved, didn’t they? “Do you have evidence tying anyone else to the murder?”

&
nbsp; “Nothing definite yet. Where is he?”

  I pointed upstairs and was ready to lead the way when Natasha barreled into the foyer. Dad led Wolf upstairs and left me to deal with Natasha, who demanded answers.

  “Is it true that Craig came back? I told you he wouldn’t leave Hannah. I knew it. I have a feel for people, you know. I can see right through them. Oh, I am so excited!”