Deadly Arrangements (Book Two in the Cozy Flower Shop Mystery Series) (The Flower Shop Mystery Series)

by Annie Adams

  "When you say it that way, it's kind of a turn on—women fighting over me."

  "Stop waggling your eyebrows—I can tell you are through the phone. There’s no fighting here. I don't understand why guys get such a thrill over that, by the way." The change in conversation was enough to relieve the tension. "I was going to call you about something. I got so worked up about her, I can't remember what it was about."

  "I called for something too…"

  "Oh, I know, I was going to ask you—and you could totally say no and I wouldn't mind one bit. My mom called to see if we—me and you I mean—want to go to dinner with my parents and Allie tonight."

  "Dinner with your family?"

  "Yeah, I know it sounds like a million laughs…"

  "I'd love to go." He sounded downright perky.

  "You would?"

  "Yeah. Your father can see us together with all of our clothes on. It'll be great."

  Great was not the first thing that came to my mind when thinking about this dinner plan. "Huh. That was not the response I expected. What did you call about, by the way?"

  "I was reminded of something at lunch today and I need to talk to you about it, but it can wait."

  "What is it?"

  "I'd rather talk in person."

  "Oh. We don't have to go with my family tonight. We can just meet after work. I wouldn't mind missing the family outing." I wouldn't mind spending some time with Alex all to myself, either.

  "It's okay. I'm looking forward to going with your family tonight. I'm sure we'll get a chance to talk."

  Don't bet on it. We were going out with my mother after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Searching through my closet felt like an expedition through the wilds of an unexplored jungle. Half of the things didn't fit, but I was too sentimental to throw them away. I wanted new clothes, but lacked the funds for any major overhaul, and I was most comfortable in the same five shirts and two pairs of pants that I always fell back on anyway.

  My mother had said no t-shirts tonight. I considered wearing one just to make a point. I didn't know which point exactly, but there had to be some good reason to defy her orders. I picked up Alex's gift and caught myself smiling at the memory of the first time I tried it on. My insides warmed when I replayed the scene and recalled the feeling of Alex's hands caressing, and well, other things.

  That is…until my recollections reached the point where my dad entered the scene, unintentionally—Dad alleges—providing an emotional cold shower for us. So much for that trip down memory lane.

  I decided to keep the t-shirt at home, where I could slip into it and think about Alex after we'd spent the evening together. As for the outfit, I found a retro floral print skirt and a coral colored shirt with a fabric ruffle-rose. It wasn't show stopping, but it was a cute ensemble that I finished off with a slipper-style flat. I didn't own any heels because of my height, but I could wear a one-inch lift and still be shorter than Alex.

  I drove to his place since he'd had to work late and was short on time. He lived in a little white cottage that stood behind another house. The cottage had been the house of Alex's landlady until she and her late husband built the newer home in front of it. Mrs. Bernhisel liked renting the smaller house to a policeman because she felt safer living alone in her big house. I think she liked having someone to dote over as well. Alex regularly found full dinners and baked goods on his doorstep when he would come home from working in Salt Lake.

  I walked through the screened-in porch and knocked on the front door. I heard a loud, "Come in, Quincy." I walked in and felt the humidity from a shower throughout the air, which held the delicious scent of Alex's aftershave.

  "Where are you?” I called out from his living room, taking in the scarcity of any objects in the room that weren't dedicated to daily practical use. There was dark leather sofa, a recliner, and a black metal coffee table with a tray holding a remote control. A large TV sat on the fireplace mantel.

  The freshly shaved fragrance grew in intensity behind me. "I'm right here." His arms reached around me and I felt the dampness left on his bare chest as it soaked into the back of my shirt. He kissed my cheek just in front of my left ear. The sweet spot. Actually, at that moment, any spot would have been the sweet spot.

  I turned in his arms to look at him.

  "Oh my gosh."

  "What?" he asked through a grin.

  "I can't see you like this, in just a towel. I might have certain thoughts."

  His grin widened and his eyes sparkled. "What thoughts?"

  "Thoughts that don't involve a towel being anywhere near you." I slid my hands up and placed them on his chest.

  He groaned softly then slid his hands down my arms and grasped my hands. He leaned away. "Sorry, I shouldn't have started things up like that."

  "Why not?" I protested.

  "We don't have a lot of time."

  "We could not go," I said with entirely too much enthusiasm.

  "Mmm, Miss McKay, you're trying to seduce me." He kissed my forehead. "And I love it. But, it won't work—this time."

  A small wave of insecurity flashed in my mind, or was it guilt? I shouldn't be pursuing sex like this. It went against everything I'd ever been taught. But many things had changed in my life since childhood, and life experience had moved the line between right and wrong and good and bad. The line that had been drawn for me was becoming rather fuzzy and didn't really seem to fit into my vantage point anymore. I had to draw my own line. Having the picture painted for me had been easier in many ways, but it wasn't necessarily better. And I didn't feel like living in someone else's picture anymore. I had to create my own landscape.

  "You're sure?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, but he shook his head at the same time. He leaned down and touched his forehead to mine. "I—l…"

  Again with the "L" word? Now?

  "…look," he said, "we can't have a quickie for our first time. And even if we had plenty of time, there's no way in hell we could go have dinner with your family afterwards."

  I laughed. "Why couldn't we?"

  "Your father would know."

  "Oh, c'mon! He wouldn't know. How would he know?" I put my hands on my hips.

  "He just would." He turned toward the hallway entrance, then looked back. "It wouldn't matter if it were hours later." He disappeared into the hall and then peeked around the doorframe. "He would know." He left again and I started toward the hallway myself. His head came around the corner. "And I like you, and I would like for your father to like me too." His head disappeared and his towel came at me through the air.

  I walked toward his bedroom, stopped halfway, and leaned back against the wall. "What about the rest of my family?"

  I could hear the sound of hangers screeching across the closet rod as he moved things from side to side. "What about them?" he said. "You mean would they know too?"

  Blech, I shuddered at the thought. "No. I mean, do you care if they like you?"

  "Sure I do," he called from his room, "but I'm not too worried. I think your sisters like me."

  A drawer opened and closed. Socks, I thought. "What about my mother?"

  There was a long pause and then Alex appeared in the doorway. The ends of his tie hung loose down his chest on either side of his unbuttoned shirt and he held polished loafers in one hand. "Oh there's no worry about your mother. She loooves me. I heard what she said at the dress shop." He waggled his eyebrows and I lobbed his towel at him.

  ***

  We met everyone at the restaurant, using lack of time as an excuse for not going to the house first. My parents had chosen Tony’s Italian restaurant, a family friendly place with large tables to seat many, or intimate booths for couples. Red checked table cloths and lit chimney lights for heating handmade pizza adorned every table.

  We followed the hostess in a single file line to the back seating room of the restaurant. Everyone looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. My brother in law, Rick— always
the leader—sat first. Alex held the chair for me while my father helped my mother take off her jacket. Rick looked up at us and leaned over and whispered something to Sandy, who then stood up and took over helping with Mom’s jacket. Dad looked at Rick, paused, looked behind me, then rushed over to the chair next to me and held it out for Allie.

  “Oh—um thanks, Dad,” Allie said with a funny look on her face.

  Rick stood up and helped Sandy with her chair as she returned to her spot.

  Allie nudged my arm. “What in the heck was all that about?”

  I shrugged. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead?” My family didn’t really do things like pulling chairs out for people. We had foregone those types of formalities many moons before.

  “Something’s up. I mean, Rick and Dad both pulling out chairs for people?" Allie said and then reached for one of the two water carafes on the table.

  “Allow me,” Alex said. He reached across me to pour Allie’s glass. “Q, how about you?”

  A loud “ahem” sounded across the table from Alex, where my mother sat.

  Alex spilled some water next to my glass. “I mean—Quincy.”

  “Oh, Annette. Quinella’s an ugly name,” Dad said.

  “Angus! That was my grandmother’s name. It’s a lovely name. Isn’t it, honey?” She looked at me with imploring eyes.

  “Your grandmother went by her middle name, Pearl. She didn’t like her first name either,” Dad said.

  “Oh, I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry, Alex.”

  Allie, Sandy, and I traded glances with saucer-sized eyeballs. Our mother had just admitted fault and apologized to my boyfriend.

  “I think we should put a thermometer to the ground,” I mumbled.

  “What do you mean?” Alex said.

  Allie giggled. “We think Hell has frozen over.”

  “Hey, did you see old Harold Busbeak at the bar?” Dad said.

  “Angus!” Mom’s mouth pursed in disapproval.

  Dad shrugged. “What?”

  “The poor man is under enough duress, he doesn’t need to be called names and he probably doesn’t want the whole town to know he was sitting in a bar.”

  I choked on my water. The commander in chief of the neighborhood spy network was worried about a person's feelings about privacy?

  The server came to take our drink orders and I watched the apprehension in my mother's eyes along with disappointment in Sandy and Rick's when Alex stuck with water. Sandy and Rick don't get out much; they were probably hoping to see Mom throw a fit when Alex chose a more adult beverage.

  "So who is Harold Busbeak?" Sandy asked.

  "It's Busby," Mom said. "He's been talking to the papers about Jack Conway’s bird discovery.”

  “The Inland False Booby,” Dad pronounced in a regal tone.

  Sandy smirked. “What in the heck is that?”

  “It’s a bird,” Alex said. “Only a bird.” He looked at me and made a face.

  “Jack Conway sighted a bird that they thought was extinct,” I said. “It’s a big deal. All over the national news. Harold Busby is calling Jack a liar, and says he’ll prove him wrong.”

  “Doesn’t K.C.’s fiancé have something to do with the whole thing?” Allie asked.

  “Well, they’re all in the same bird watching club based at the marsh,” I replied.

  “Do you think it all has something to do with what happened to Fred?” Mom said.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but it seems kind of suspicious that Harold showed up at the scene and left just before the attack. I should go ask him if he saw anything weird before he left.”

  Alex put his arm around the back of my chair, leaned down and whispered, "It's none of our business, Q. Leave the poor man alone and stay out of it," he said with syrupy sweetness.

  I frowned at him and he smiled and winked. Hard to stay mad at that face.

  "What are you two love birds whispering about over there?" Mom said.

  I felt my cheeks heat up. "Oh, nothing," I said. Alex grinned even more.

  "Now, Annette. Leave them alone. They were just whispering sweet nothings to each other. Isn't that right, Quincy?" Dad wrapped his arm around Mom's shoulders and grinned at her.

  "We…were just…talking about…nothing. No sweet nothings," I said.

  As the meal progressed, I noticed Rick awkwardly draping his arm across Sandy's shoulders and her shrugging it off in order to be able to eat. I nudged Allie to get her attention and nodded toward the unusual display.

  "Something's definitely going on," Allie whispered.

  We ate our dinner without incident until my mother cleared her throat loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. Apparently she had something important to tell us.

  "Your father—uh—Angus and I have invited all of you out tonight to talk about something very important. With all the wedding planning that's been going on around our family, especially with you, Quincy, we've been reminded of how important and sacred the bond of marriage is for a couple." My mother trained her eyes at me as she spoke.

  The waiter came to the table with the dessert menu, providing a welcomed interruption.

  "Allie, what is our mother up to?" I whispered.

  "I don't know. It's been like this since dad came back. I have no idea what she's going to come up with next."

  "Did Dad say anything about me and Alex the other night?"

  "I don't know. Like what?"

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  “Quincy, your father came to visit you the other night,” Mom said.

  Here we go.

  “And we were reminded how there’s been so much change for everyone lately, and we thought this would be a good time to talk about marriage.” She clasped her hands in front of her.

  I reached for Alex’s hand under the table and squeezed harder as my mother’s speech became more difficult to bear, like when I squeeze the arms of the chair at the dentist.

  “Married relationships are difficult, but when two people decide to commit to each other,” she nodded toward Sandy, “like your sister and Rick have—”

  “Ow,” Alex whispered.

  “Sorry,” I said. I squeezed pretty hard with that last bit.

  “We just think a couple should take a long hard look at what they want before they make decisions that could affect the rest of their lives,” Mom said.

  While my mother spoke, my father pushed back his chair, and fumbled with his pockets. He stood and walked around the back of Mom’s chair and stood on her other side.

  “Annette,” Dad began, “after I visited with Quincy and Alex the other night, I knew I had made the right decision. You see, I’ve spoken with all three of our girls and talked about the time I was gone and why—”

  “Angus,” Mom said with the aside voice she reserved for our father when he said something she deemed inappropriate in front of us kids. “I thought you wanted to have a talk about marriage.”

  “Oh, I do that.” He awkwardly knelt to one knee.

  “Angus, what on earth are you doing?” Mom’s face was scarlet. She glanced franticly from side to side. My father was committing the number one sin in public; he was making a scene.

  “Annette, I’ve had plenty of time to think about our relationship, and we’ve talked things through. I’ve decided I need to make an honest woman out of you, and a decent man out of myself.”

  “But you said…”

  “I said I wanted to get everyone together and talk about marriage. And that’s what I’m doing now. Annette, will you marry me?” Dad pulled out a little green box.

  “Angus McKay—I—you said you would never tell,” Mom said.

  “Annette! If I don’t stand up soon, I’ll be permanently frozen in this position. This is a killer for my bursitis. Will you or won’t you?”

  “Oh, Angus.” Mom placed a hand on either side of Dad’s face. “Yes, of course I will.” She leaned down and kissed him.

  The people sitting at the other tables nearby
clapped and cheered. Everyone at our table exchanged stunned glances with each other. Our chins would all be bruised from hitting the table, except for Alex, who clapped along with the rest of the restaurant patrons.

  Dad made an attempt to stand up and Rick got up to help him, which Dad promptly eschewed. He finally stood and ambled back to his chair. “These old bones are getting creaky,” he said. “I need to exercise more.”

  “Um—Dad,” Allie said, “what exactly did you mean just then?”

  “I was thinking about taking up boxing again. There’s a class for old men like me at that gym downtown.”

  “No. What did you mean about…making an honest woman out of Mom? You just want to renew your vows, right?”

  Dad looked at Mom, who sighed while her shoulders drooped in resignation. “I guess we have to tell them now, don’t we, dear?” she said.

  “Cat’s out of the bag, Annette. Sorry to surprise you this way.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Sandy asked.

  “Your mother and I were never legally married,” Dad said with complete nonchalance.

  “What?” Sandy cried out, in a rare display of any emotion other than calm.

  My father told us a story that twisted everything I thought I knew about my parents upside down and sideways like a corkscrew roller coaster. The after effects were just as unsettling.

  My dad joined the Air Force after high school, just after he and my mother started dating. This much I already knew. What I didn’t know is that the quickie wedding they did before he went to basic training wasn’t the wedding we all thought we knew about. It wasn’t even a legal wedding. My father’s parents were Scottish immigrants who worked a farm. I found out that my parents did a Scottish hand-fasting ceremony in my grandparents’ back yard. When I was a kid I’d asked my mom why there were no photos of her wedding. She’d told me they couldn’t afford a photographer. Sounded reasonable. I didn’t think to ask whether or not any of their friends took pictures. Hey, I was a kid. What did I know?

  Everything I knew about my parents had been called into question. But I wasn’t the one I was worried about. My poor religious sisters. How would they handle the knowledge that my parents hadn’t really been married for our entire lives?