“Can’t you just see eating around the dining room table at Christmas?” Amy gazed at the clapboard home in complete adoration. “Tucking the kids into bed right up there in that room?”
Good grief. Amy had been dreaming of living in this house since she was a child. Had he been the husband in question even then? The chills running down Seth’s back answered a resounding yes. What had he gotten himself into? Amy had about twenty years worth of dreams stored up in her pretty blonde head.
And he didn’t know if he could ever live up to the fantasy she’d created in her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Saturday dawned, and where else would Julia be but at a wedding? She pulled into the parking lot at the Rotary Club, marveling that it had been a pretty good day so far. Joy Bennett and Matt Nichols had managed to get through their wedding ceremony without any fainting or blood spurting. All clothing had fit as intended, and there had been no wildlife in sight.
Julia considered this a huge triumph.
Her cell rang, and she answered assuming the caller had to be Amy or Betsy.
“What’s this I hear about Seth dating Amy Vining?”
Shoot. The Inquisitor. “Hello Sarah,” Julia said. “How are you?”
“I asked you a question,” Sarah said, obviously not in the mood for small talk today.
“Which I’m ignoring. I’m in the middle of a wedding.”
“I can’t believe I had to find out Seth has been seeing Amy from my neighbor,” Sarah continued as if Julia hadn’t spoken. “I assume you do know about her.”
“Yes. Actually, I was having dinner with Meredith at Bon Appétit, and they came in together.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve been busy, and anyway, it’s none of my business who Seth dates.”
“Are you kidding? Weren’t you the one pacing my bedroom not so long ago, telling me about kisses?”
“I still regret telling you that.”
“As I remember, you were also making up all kinds of reasons why you shouldn’t date Seth.”
Julia rolled her neck in an effort to ease the knot that had formed. “We both realized there was no sense in pursuing something that would never work.”
“Of course. So, what did you do? Tell him to date Amy instead?”
Why did Sarah have to know her so well? “Oops. Sorry, Sarah, you’re breaking up. Bad reception. Gotta go.”
“Don’t you dare hang up—”
“Talk to you later.”
No more than a second passed before Julia’s phone rang again. She knew her stepsister would only call back a million times until she answered.
“I can’t talk now,” Julia said.
“Fine, but you’re not getting out of this.”
“Can you grill me later? Please?”
“Okay,” Sarah said, on a gusty sigh. “Come over here when you’re done.”
“I’ll do my best. Bye now.”
“Julia—”
Pushing the looming unease over Seth and Amy from her mind, Julia rushed into the Rotary Club. Of course she spotted one of the people currently making her life crazy right off. Amy had assumed total control as usual. Julia surveyed the room, assessing the progress. Two buffet tables were lined up to her right, and the caterers were busy putting out the food. A dozen other tables were scattered around, waiting for the guests to arrive.
“Everything looks great here,” Julia said.
Amy preened, though she did her best to still look humble. “Everything has come together very nicely. How did the ceremony go?”
“No injuries to report. Betsy is helping to oversee the pictures, and I suspect guests will be showing up any minute. Can I help you with anything?”
“I’ve got it covered, boss,” Amy said, with a breezy smile. “This has been one of the least painful receptions. Simple and easy.”
Meanwhile, Julia would have been going out of her mind. “You’re inhuman.”
The first of the guests started arriving, and about forty-five minutes after that, the wedding party made their appearance. Julia started to relax. Dumb move on her part because dropping her guard meant Murphy’s Law kicking. The law in this case took the form of Assistant #1. Julia was helping to supervise the cake cutting when Betsy walked up.
“This is the best wedding ever!” Betsy declared.
Julia chuckled at her enthusiasm. “It’s gone well.”
“Look at them,” Betsy said, in full gush mode. “Everyone is so happy. Joy and Matt look so happy. And everyone is so happy for them.”
Betsy flung out her arms as if to take in the entire room, nearly clubbing Julia in the ear. She managed to duck just in time, and stared at her assistant in bemusement. Sure Betsy resided in a land named Cheerful, but her current blissful state seemed too much even for her. The “happy, happy, happy” spelled scary, scary, scary.
Julia took a better look, noting the flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear… No way.
“You’re feeling pretty good, huh?”
Betsy offered a wide-eyed grin. “I am so happy.”
Yeah, a happy drunk. Prickles of alarm snaked along Julia’s skin. She scanned the room again and noticed the noise level has increased tenfold. People were laughing, but now they seemed more out-of-control. The dancing seemed a little wilder too. In fact, things were beginning to look more like a college party than a wedding reception of an Elder’s daughter.
“Betsy, what have you been drinking?”
“Only punch,” she answered, blinking several times. “Why?”
Without another word, Julia bolted across the room, with Betsy close behind. There were two smaller tables set up with punch bowls and glasses. Julia hit the closest table, praying she was wrong. The law of averages, and her luck with these weddings, told her she wasn’t.
She poured a small amount into a glass and took a sip.
“Is something wrong?” Betsy asked.
The punch had a definite kick not created by Ginger Ale. “Oh, I’m pretty sure something is very wrong.”
Betsy’s eyes widened in apprehension. “With the punch?”
“This stuff is lethal.”
Julia looked around and noticed the tablecloth was bunched up on the bottom. The skin prickles returned full force as she leaned over and lifted the cloth.
“Is that what I think it is?” Betsy clapped a hand over her mouth.
Julia grabbed one of the empty liquor bottles. “Spiked punch. I thought these games only went on at school dances.”
A scream pierced the air and Julia’s senses. She and Betsy popped up, searching for the cause of the commotion.
“Henry!” a woman across the room cried. “Oh, Lord! Somebody call an ambulance.”
“Call 911!” Julia yelled as she sprinted toward the commotion.
A crowd had gathered around, and Julia had to push her way through. At the center of the mass of people stood a middle-aged woman, with a head of tight, graying curls. The object of her concern proved to be an older man who was slumped over in a chair. The woman shook him frantically, but he didn’t come to.
Julia knelt down by the man’s chair and checked his pulse. Pulled up an eyelid to look at his pupils.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” his wife asked.
“No, but they always do this on TV. His pulse seems strong, and his eyes reacted to the light.”
Julia leaned closer, slapping his cheeks. He stirred and let out a distinct snore. With the puff of air she also got a whiff of his breath.
This could not be happening.
“Has he had any punch today?” Julia asked.
“He drank a gallon of the stuff,” his wife answered. “He loves it, even though he shouldn’t have that much because it’s loaded with sugar.”
“Not today,” she said under her breath.
“Where’s the ambulance?” the woman screamed again.
Julia stood and tried to calm the o
lder woman down. “Ma’am, I think he passed out.”
“Then it is serious.”
“No, Ma’am. I think he’s drunk.”
“That’s impossible,” the woman sputtered. “Henry hasn’t touched alcohol in thirty years.”
“Well—”
Betsy ran up at that moment, with Amy on her heels. “Amy was already on the phone. The ambulance is on its way. What’s wrong with him?”
“I think he drank too much punch.”
Betsy’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no?” The woman gripped Julia’s arm hard enough to leave bruises. “What do you mean, oh no? What’s wrong with the punch? Has it gone bad? Are we all going to be sick?”
“More like hungover.”
“Julia? What’s that in your hand?” Amy asked in the sudden silence.
Julia realized she still held one of the empty liquor bottles. En masse the crowd looked down as well.
“Is that vodka?” the older woman asked.
“It was,” Julia answered.
A mottled flush crept up the woman’s cheeks. “You put alcohol in the punch?”
There was a chorus of angry buzzing now.
“Unbelievable.”
“How could she?”
“I knew we shouldn’t trust her.”
And the best one…
“Well, with a father like that, what can you expect?”
Julia faced them without flinching. “I did not spike the punch. I just discovered the bottles. I don’t know how this happened. It was probably a prank. Amy, did you see anyone near the tables when you were setting up?”
Amy shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as tears started to form.
“I hope you’re not trying to blame Amy for this travesty,” the older woman said. “She would never do something like this. What about my husband? Do you know how much damage alcohol could do to a man his age?”
“I doubt he’d—”
Julia was saved by the welcome sound of a siren. The paramedics rushed in, and within minutes, Henry had been being hoisted on a stretcher and was being wheeled out of the room. His frantic wife followed behind, wailing about alcohol poisoning and asking if Henry’s stomach would have to be pumped.
The party mood seemed to evaporate then. Some of the guests started leaving. Others conveniently began complaining about headaches and nausea.
Julia turned to her assistants. “Get lots of coffee made. Make sure everyone who drank the punch gets some. Watch the guests. Don’t let anyone leave if they look tipsy. I’m going to the hospital.”
They both nodded and rushed off toward the kitchen. Julia headed for the door.
Julia was about to hop into her car when her phone rang again. “Sarah, it’s not a good time,” she said, before her stepsister could launch into another tirade. “I’m headed to the hospital.”
“That’s convenient,” Sarah answered. “So am I.”
Julia froze with her key in the ignition. “You are?”
“Mary is on her way,” Sarah said.
“Now?” White dots swam before Julia’s eyes, and she clasped the steering wheel. “Isn’t it too soon? Are you all right? Is someone with you?”
“Eric is here. And mom was visiting. We’re on our way to the hospital now. It’s early, but we pray not too early.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
****
The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever. A quick inquiry directed Julia to the third floor.
Grace stood in the waiting room. “Julia. Thank goodness you made it,” she said, opening her arms.
“Have you heard anything?” Julia asked. “Are they giving Sarah something to stop the contractions? How is she?”
Grace smoothed the hair back from Julia’s face. “Sarah is fine right now. The labor has already progressed so it’s too late for medication. The baby’s coming.”
“Is it too early?”
“She’s at thirty-three weeks, which isn’t too bad. Her doctor told me most babies do fairly well at this stage. We have to pray there won’t be too many complications.”
Julia didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of complications?”
Grace put an arm around Julia’s shoulders. “Let’s not even talk about that. If we start picturing horrible things, we’ll make ourselves crazy.”
“How can you not think horrible things?”
Rather than answer, Grace steered them toward a row of chairs. “Why don’t we sit?”
“I can’t,” Julia said. “Actually, I was already on my way to the hospital, but for another reason.”
“What’s going on?”
“More proof that I don’t belong in the wedding business, as if I didn’t already know.”
“Surely it can’t be that bad.”
What Julia wouldn’t give for Grace’s optimism. “Oh, it can. I’ll be back soon.”
It wasn’t hard to find Henry. Or rather his family. There were about a thousand people gathered in the waiting room, and they all looked alike. Henry’s hysterical wife sat in a chair wringing her hands, while another woman tried to comfort her.
“Mercy, calm down,” the calm one said. “Henry will be fine. It’s not like he drank the whole bowl, you know. He’ll sleep it off and most likely wake up with a headache tomorrow.”
Mercy stopped wringing her hands long enough to gasp in outrage. “Oh, Lydia, how can you be so uncaring? Henry could be dying in there, and you—” she stopped when she spotted Julia hovering in the doorway.
Julia tried to shrink back into the hospital-brand blue painted walls without apparent success.
“That woman tried to poison my husband,” Mercy declared, pointing a bony finger in accusation. Julia half expected flying monkeys to swoop down and cart her off at any second.
“Oh, for land’s sake,” the other woman said. “It was vodka, not arsenic.”
It may only have been alcohol, but most of the occupants of the room still seemed to think Julia had added the secret ingredient to the punch. An army of angry relatives stared her down with various shades of contempt. Except for one friendly and familiar face.
“Nicole Rivers,” Julia said in shock, as her old friend from school waded through the crowd.
“Hi, Julia.”
A horrible thought seized her. “Please tell me the guy who passed out isn’t your father,” Julia said.
“Uncle. Aunt Mercy is my mother’s sister.”
“Which one is your mother?”
“The one trying to keep Aunt Mercy from going off the deep end,” Nicole said with a wry grin.
“Your uncle is going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“I’m sure he is. We haven’t seen the doctor yet, but it’s pretty rare for someone to have serious complications from a few glasses of spiked punch.”
“What about your aunt? Is she going to be all right?”
“Oh sure. Aunt Mercy’s always been this way,” Nicole said, with a flick of her hand. “She gets a headache and immediately imagines it’s a brain tumor. My mom and the rest of the family spend most of their waking hours calming her down.”
Julia looked around the room. “Are all these people related to you?”
“Yeah. My mother had five brothers and sisters. They all married and had kids. And so on and so on.”
“Are they all ready to haul me off to jail right now?”
“Of course not.” Nicole grinned. “I must say you do lead an exciting life. Malfunctioning dresses, malfunctioning noses, killer bees, grooms with cold feet.”
“You know about my misfortunes?”
“Everyone knows about them. Most of us wait with baited breath to find out what will happen next.”
Julia buried her face in her hands. “Fabulous, so I’ve become fodder for gossipy old biddies at the beauty parlor.”
“And the country club, the Botanical Gardens, and now the Rotary Club I guess. You’ve become a legend.”
&nb
sp; “Well, now we can add contributing to the delinquency of senior citizens to my list of accomplishments. Should I expect lawsuits?”
“No one is going to sue you.” Nicole put a hand on Julia’s shoulder. “It’ll blow over in a few days.”
“I’m not sure serving spiked punch at an Elder’s daughter’s wedding is the way to win friends and influence people.”
Nicole laughed again. “Oh, Julia, you certainly haven’t lost that rapier wit. I always loved that about you. I’ve missed it and you.”
Julia felt a silly sting of tears, which she fought back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been missed before.”
“That’s not true. Grace missed you something fierce. So did Sarah.”
They were interrupted when Nicole’s mother walked over.
“Hello, Mrs. Coleman,” Julia said.
“Hello, Julia,” Mrs. Coleman said, with genuine warmth. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time so I’m not even sure you remember me.”
“I do now,” Julia said. “I didn’t realize the man I put into a stupor was Nicole’s uncle, though. I’m so sorry about this. When I found the bottles under the table, I couldn’t believe it.”
“Do you know what happened?” Mrs. Coleman asked.
“Not a clue. I can only assume it was a prank of some kind. Of course, most of the guests think I was the one who doctored the punch.”
“No one believes that,” Nicole said.
“You obviously didn’t hear the people around me.”
“Julia—”
There was a stir at the other end of the room as the doctor appeared. Everyone came to attention as he surveyed the room. His mouth quirked as he took in the anxious faces.
“Henry is going to be fine,” the doctor said. “Nothing a little nap and a couple aspirin won’t cure.”
“You’re sure he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning?” Henry’s wife asked. “Did you have to pump his stomach?”
“I’m sure, and there was no need for stomach pumping. He didn’t actually drink that much, but his tolerance level was low because it’s been so long since he’s had any alcohol.”
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