Her Second Chance Family

by Christine Scott

  “Well, yes, but—”

  The twinkle in Mel’s eye belied his gruff expression. Purposefully he strode to the front door, turning over the Closed sign and slapping it in place. “Then we’d better get ready for the party, don’t you think?”

  “What’s this?” Dot sashayed to the counter. “Is the high-and-mighty slave driver really giving us the afternoon off?”

  “Watch it, Dot,” Mel growled, “or you’ll be cleaning out the fat vats.”

  Dot winked, snapping her gum. “You don’t scare me, you ol’ softie.” Then she leaned across the counter and planted a kiss on Mel’s cheek, leaving a crimson imprint of her lips. “I’m wise to you.”

  Mel’s face turned bright pink. “Skedaddle, both of you, before I change my mind.”

  “Thanks, Mel.” Maggie grinned and tugged off her apron. With a wave of her hand, she headed for the door. “I’ll see you all tonight.”

  “I can’t wait to see you in your fancy dress,” Dot called after her. “But watch out, I’ve got dibs on the bride’s bouquet.”

  Maggie laughed as she stepped out into the bright sunlight—and then felt a chill run down her spine. Her smile faded. Her step faltered as she glanced around. Cars lined both sides of the street. Pedestrians crowded the sidewalk, parting in a V as they made their way around her.

  Maggie could see no one lurking nearby. No one to bother her.

  Rubbing her arms, she fought the urge to cross the street and pay a visit to the town’s chief of police. She was a grown woman, after all, she thought. She’d been taking care of herself for some time. There was no need for her to become dependent on Jason. She forced herself to continue on home.

  As she left the town square, the crowd thinned. Turning down the quiet residential street where her house stood, she felt another prickling of unease. She turned, glancing sharply over her shoulder, and caught a late-model gray car turning the opposite corner.

  The shaded windows blocked her view of the driver. And the car was gone before she could look at the license. Maggie stood frozen to the spot, staring at the empty street. Then, with a nervous laugh, she shook her head.

  What was wrong with her?

  Tonight was Jenny’s wedding. She was just the matron of honor, not the bride. She had no right to have a case of prewedding jitters.

  Maggie lifted her face, letting the sunshine work its magic in banishing the chill around her heart. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A soft breeze stirred the air. And, to lift her spirits, she had a beautiful new dress waiting for her at home. It promised to be a wonderful night and an even more special ceremony.

  She didn’t need to spoil the evening with a case of unfounded apprehension.

  Pushing all thoughts of doom and gloom from her mind, she moved off down the sidewalk to her house.

  Chapter 14

  “Careful he doesn’t hit his head,” Jason said, watching as two officers pulled Homer Bledsoe out of the back seat of a patrol car.

  After spending most of the day combing the woods of the Missouri Ozarks for their fugitive, they’d finally caught their man thanks to the help of a local Realtor, who’d discovered a broken lock on one of his lakeside rental properties. Instead of investigating on his own, the Realtor had wisely alerted the police. Within minutes, the county and city police departments had swarmed the remote cabin.

  Bledsoe had given up with only a token fight. If the empty bottles of whiskey strewn about the cabin—compliments of the owner’s well-stocked liquor cabinet—were any indication, Homer was in no shape to stand on his own two feet, let alone defend himself.

  Now, emerging from the car, Bledsoe listed drunkenly.

  Simultaneously, the two officers tightened their grip beneath Homer’s shoulders. Supporting him on either side, they half-led, half-carried their prisoner into the police department The rest of the officers involved in the manhunt followed closely, anxious to assure themselves of Homer’s imminent incarceration.

  Everyone but Officer Schmitz, that is. He stood by his patrol car, peering inside, shaking his head in disgust

  Jason hesitated, frowning. “Is there a problem?”

  “The son of a—” Gritting his teeth, Schmitz struggled to control his temper. “Our prisoner threw up in the back seat of my patrol car.”

  Jason felt the tension ease. He bit back a smile. “A hazard of the job. Look on the bright side—at least we got our man.”

  Schmitz did not seem comforted by the thought. He narrowed his gaze and set his lantern jaw into a displeased line.

  Jason grinned at him, “It’s going to be a warm evening. If I were you, I’d hose that car down ASAP. No telling how long the scent will linger if you don’t.”

  Ignoring the grumble of curses falling from Schmitz’s lips, Jason strode into the police department A scene bordering on the lines of a party filled the offices. Men were laughing and retelling stories of the day’s activities. A few stood at the counter, watching as Homer was rebooked. Others lingered by the coffee machine, embellishing on their parts in the capture.

  Noticeably missing from the group was Stan Wilson.

  Belatedly Jason recalled that this evening was Jenny Lewis’s wedding. A wedding he’d promised Maggie he’d attend with her and Kevin. Jason glanced at his watch. A wedding for which he was going to be very late if he didn’t get home soon.

  Stan was a big boy, he assured himself. No doubt he would deal with the upcoming nuptials in his own way. And after spending the day tromping through the thick underbrush, he felt hot and gritty. His shirt was drenched in sweat. Cockleburs were snagged in his pant legs. Jason sighed. All he wanted to do was go home and stand beneath a long, hot shower.

  “Maggie Conrad called, Chief,” Betty announced, demanding his attention. “When I told her you were out looking for an escaped prisoner, she told me to tell you not to worry about rushing home. That she’ll meet you at the church for Jenny’s wedding.”

  Catcalls sounded across the room.

  Jason felt the back of his neck warm with embarrassment. The phone rang, sparing him from any further unwanted announcements from his dispatcher. He took advantage of her distraction and headed for his office.

  But not quickly enough. “Chief, it’s that Tom Burns from California,” Betty said, stopping him once again. Her brow furrowed into a frown. “He really sounds agitated, Chief. He says he needs to talk to you immediately.”

  Tension tightened Jason’s throat. Swallowing hard, he said, “Thanks, Betty. I’ll take the call in my officer.”

  His feet felt heavy as lead as he forced himself to move. He’d been delaying the inevitable for the past three days. It was time to face the fallout of his own actions. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him. Then he picked up the phone and punched in the blinking light. “Hi, Tom.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Jason blinked, taken aback by the anger in his ex-partner’s voice. “We had a prisoner escape. I’ve been tied up all day with a manhunt.”

  “I’m talking about the rest of this week. I’ve been trying to get hold of you since Wednesday.”

  “Look, I know I should have called—”

  “You’re damn right you should have called me back. All hell is breaking loose over here. Do you have any idea who your mystery lady in Wyndchester is?”

  “Slow down, Tom,” Jason said, his head reeling with confusion. “What’s this all about?”

  “Your Maggie Conrad’s real name is Margaret Stuart, the former wife of a local businessman, Gerald Stuart. We’ve been looking for her ever since she disappeared almost two years ago.”

  “I know that,” Jason said, overwhelmed by the extent of his friend’s displeasure. What was going on here? He’d expected Tom to be concerned for his welfare, not to be so agitated. “Maggie told me about taking her son, that there was probably a warrant out for her arrest.”

  “That isn’t the half of it,” Tom said sharply. “Gerald Stuart is under investigation in connec
tion with organized crime. Money laundering and racketeering are only a couple of the charges pending against him. We also believe he’s guilty of conspiring to murder in at least two separate cases. He wasn’t the trigger man, but he was one to give the orders. Except, at the moment, the prosecutor’s case is in limbo. Its fate is hinging on the testimony of the state’s star witness—your Maggie Conrad.”

  Jason sat down hard on the edge of his desk. He felt numb inside, unable to form the right words to respond. It was too much, too soon. He couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of the news. Why hadn’t Maggie told him the truth, that she was a state witness?

  “We’ve been looking to put Gerald Stuart away for a very long time. Until now, nobody’s been able to get close enough to do the job. We’ve got to get his ex-wife back to California, Jason,” Tom persisted. “She’s too important to the case to let her slip away again.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jason said, a hot surge of anger thawing his frozen tongue. “If you think I’m going to just hand her over, you’re crazy. She isn’t a criminal. She’s scared to death, trying to protect her son.”

  “Nobody’s blaming her motives, but—”

  “Look, I don’t understand any of this. Maggie’s not the kind of woman to just up and walk out on an investigation. If the prosecutors wanted her as a witness, why weren’t they protecting her and her son?”

  “Well, because—” Tom hesitated “—she wasn’t exactly slated to testify at the time.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Tom sighed. “It wasn’t until after she left town that the prosecutors started looking seriously into the case. The custody trial was messy, all over the papers out here. During the hearing, her attorney alluded to her ex-husband’s criminal activities, stating that Maggie had been a witness to some of these activities. Unfortunately the judge dismissed the allegations, not allowing them to be aired in court.”

  “That’s because the judge was a friend of her ex-husband’s,” Jason cut in, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

  “Gerald Stuart has a lot of friends. That’s part of the problem.” Tom released a terse breath. “We came up with a hit on Maggie’s prints on Wednesday. Once I figured out who we were dealing with, I couldn’t keep a lid on the news. I didn’t have any choice but to tell my supervisor.”

  Jason muttered an oath. His innocent little background search had snowballed into an out-of-control avalanche of bad news.

  “There’s more, Jason,” Tom said quietly. The somber tone of his voice sent a shiver down Jason’s back. “Gerald Stuart’s been missing since Thursday morning. We have reason to believe that the news of his ex-wife’s reappearance was leaked to him by someone in our department. There’s a possibility he’s on his way to Wyndchester. Hell, he might be there already.”

  Jason’s heart slammed against his rib cage. The blood roaring in his ears, he lurched to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?”

  “Calm down, Jason. Now can you understand why we need to get her back to California? She’s got to testify—for her own sake. It’s the only way we can protect her.”

  “The only thing I understand is that your department has alerted a dangerous man to the whereabouts of an innocent woman and her child.” Jason’s voice shook with barely suppressed anger. “You’ve put their lives at risk. If anything happens to them, it’ll be on your shoulders, partner.”

  He slammed the phone back in its cradle, the crash reverberating throughout the quiet office. Yanking open the door, he stepped outside into the mayhem of the department. Ignoring all attempts to get his attention, he stormed through the office, not stopping until he was outside in the fading evening sunlight

  Officer Schmitz lifted his head from the back seat of his patrol car. A wad of paper towels in hand, he frowned and said, “Everything okay, Chief?”

  “No, everything’s not okay,” Jason said, striding to his Jeep. He opened the door and slung himself behind the wheel.

  Schmitz blinked, looking confused. “Where are you going, Chief?”

  “To a wedding,” he said, slamming the door shut. Grinding the key in the ignition, he popped the Jeep into gear. Tires squealing, he pealed out of the parking space. Beneath his breath, he added, “God help me, I just hope I’m not too late.”

  “How are you feeling?” Maggie asked, studying her young friend in concern.

  Her face as pale as the bridal gown she wore, Jenny sighed. “Still a little queasy. But I guess I’ll be okay.”

  “Of course she’s all right,” Mrs. Bosworth, Jenny’s future mother-in-law, cut in. “The wedding’s about to start. There can’t be any delays.”

  “She’s ill, Mrs. Bosworth,” Maggie said, appalled by the woman’s lack of compassion.

  “It’s just a mild case of prewedding jitters.” Mrs. Bosworth gave her perfectly coiffed blond head a dismissive shake. “We’ve discussed this before, Jenny. As Mrs. Joe Bosworth III, you have a reputation to uphold, an image that must be maintained.” She flashed a quick, impersonal smile. “There won’t be any more problems, now, will there?”

  “No, ma’am,” Jenny whispered, dropping her gaze to the bridal bouquet she was clutching. Like the rest of the wedding, the starkly formal arrangement of arum lilies seemed unsuited for such a sweet, down-to-earth young woman.

  “Good,” Mrs. Bosworth said, lifting her chin, her face lighting in an expression of triumph. “Now, I must take my place in the church.” With that announcement, she swept out of the dressing room on a cloud of expensive perfume.

  Missing Jason’s reassuring presence more than ever, Maggie sat down next to her friend and placed a hand on her trembling shoulders. “Jenny, are you sure this is what you really want? If you’re having second thoughts...”

  “It’s too late,” Jenny said, her voice shaking with emotion.

  “Honey, it’s never too late. All you have to do is say no.”

  “I can’t,” Jenny said, her eyes filling with tears. “Mrs. Bosworth—she’s made so many plans, spent so much money. She’d be very upset if the wedding didn’t take place.”

  Carefully Maggie said, “Getting married only because you’re afraid of disappointing your future mother-in-law is not a good enough reason.”

  “You don’t understand. No one says no to her. Not her husband, not Joe.” She shook her head. “And certainly not me.”

  “Jenny, please. I wish you’d reconsider—”

  A knock sounded and the door of the dressing room swung open. Strains of “The Wedding March” wafted in as Mel stood before them, looking uncomfortable in his tux and bow tie. Jenny’s father hadn’t been a part of her life for a long time. Mrs. Bosworth had insisted that tradition must be upheld, that Jenny must be given away by a male member of her family. With no one else to turn to, Mel had graciously volunteered for the job. Flexing his big shoulders, he said, “Time to get this show on the road, ladies.”

  Jenny rose unsteadily to her feet.

  Reluctantly Maggie followed her lead. Every instinct told her to do something, anything, to stop this farce of a wedding. Jenny was no more in love with Joe Bosworth than she was suited to meeting the demands of the snooty Mrs. Bosworth. Her dream of a better life was turning into a nightmare. The marriage would be a disastrous mistake.

  But Jenny was too scared to listen. Short of tying the bride to the nearest chair, Maggie had no idea how to stop the wedding.

  The wedding planner Mrs. Bosworth had hired to make sure the ceremony went smoothly breezed into the dressing room. With a critical eye, she glanced at Maggie’s elegant but boring blue silk dress. With a snap of her fingers she said, “Matron of honor, you’re holding up the wedding. Let’s get in line, pronto.”

  With one last troubled glance at Jenny, Maggie fell into step. From that moment on, the wedding took on a surrealistic quality. Everything around her seemed out of focus, moving in slow motion, like a film gone bad. It was as though someone else, not her, was marching up
the aisle. Faces of people—some familiar, many not—stared at her, their gazes curious, unsmiling. She searched the crowd for Jason, but came up disappointed. Even after spotting Kevin’s smiling face as he sat next to Dot, Maggie still felt exposed, on display. If she was this uncomfortable, how was the fragile bride holding up?

  As Maggie took her place at the altar, she turned to watch Jenny walk up the aisle. In the white dress with its many sequins and beads and its long, satin train, Jenny looked overwhelmed, as though she was about to collapse. Beneath the veil of lacy netting, her expression seemed void of all emotion. Leaning heavily on Mel’s arm for support, she seemed small, frail and completely unprepared for the wedding.

  Frowning his concern at the bride, the minister began the ceremony. The words blurred together and Maggie felt a chill of apprehension run down her spine. Surreptitiously, she glanced around the church, looking for a reason for her uneasiness, but she saw nothing untoward. Attributing her fears to her concern for Jenny’s well-being, she forced her attention back to the ceremony.

  The vows were exchanged. Joe’s voice rang out loud and clear. Jenny’s was barely above a whisper. Finally the minister turned to the guests and announced, “If there be anyone who has just cause for this wedding not to take place, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

  A hush fell on the crowd.

  Maggie held her breath, waiting, hoping for a miracle.

  Her miracle was granted in the form of a disheveled, wild-eyed Stan Wilson.

  Striding up the aisle, his long legs closing the distance between him and Jenny, he said in a loud voice, “I have just cause.”

  A buzz of shocked murmurs arose from the pews.

  Jenny turned to face the newcomer, her eyes wide, her mouth forming an O of surprise. For the first time since the wedding began, she showed a spark of emotion.

  The groom’s face reddened in anger.

  In a nearby pew, his mother’s expression hardened with disapproval.

  Undeterred, Stan climbed the steps of the altar. Shaking his head, he said simply, “Jenny, you can’t marry this man—not when you’re in love with me.”