“No, I don’t.” Skye faced her. “It’s natural.” She knew Belle wouldn’t believe her. The wedding planner was so artificial that anything real was beyond her comprehension. She had bragged about all the “work” she’d had done—everything from a boob job to eyeliner tattoos. It was hard to believe that a twenty-eight-year-old had really needed all that plastic surgery, but Skye had to admit, the woman was stunning.
Belle shrugged. “I have either Sally Hershberger or Christophe do me. They come right to my place, the one in Malibu.” She giggled. “I’m a little bit into myself, but that’s not bad or anything.”
“Wow.” Skye assumed an impressed expression, the one she had perfected in the twenty-one days she’d worked for Belle and listened to her name-drop and boast about her celebrity friends. “I’d love to have a hairdresser who made house calls. My bro—”
“Iris is back.” Belle cut Skye off, plainly uninterested in any topic that wasn’t about her. The floral designer, Iris Yee, who had flown in from California the day before, had been in Chicago all morning picking up rental equipment and purchasing supplies. “I was going to send you to help her unload, but I made a teeny suggestion regarding her centerpiece designs and she called me bossy, so now I’m not sure I will.” The wedding planner’s squeaky voice reached a glass-shattering pitch. “I told her I am not bossy; I just know what everybody should be doing.”
Skye said in a neutral tone, “Then should I go help her or not?”
“Obviously.” Belle swished her ponytail. “I just like keeping Iris off balance. She’s totally a creative genius, but she’s so insecure about her work, it’s easy to rattle her, which keeps her prices down.” Before Skye could leave, Belle handed her a manila envelope. “Not so fast. Here’s the list of people who have not returned their response cards. Call them tonight and find out if they’re attending. The caterer needs the final, final count tomorrow before ten a.m. Since you insist on going to church on Sunday, you can drop it off on your way.”
“But the attendants’ party is tonight,” Skye protested. She’d been surprised to learn that the matron of honor and the other two bridesmaids, as well as the best man and three groomsmen, were coming to Scumble River and staying for the entire week before the wedding. However, Riley and Belle had assured Skye that they’d all be busy the full seven days.
“You’ll have to make the calls before you go, or take your cell and do it from the restaurant.” Belle twitched her shoulder. “I can’t do everything. I’m meeting with the linen consultant in a few minutes to make sure all the tablecloths, napkins, et cetera are in order, and after that, the photographer and the DJ are driving in from Chicago to firm up the picture and song lists. Then I have to go to the country club to work with the lighting and tent guy. I suppose you think I should do your job, too.”
“Fine.” One more week. Skye silently chanted her new mantra. “I’ll make the calls.” One more week and the wedding would be over and Belle would be on her way back to California. Best of all, Skye would have made enough money to renovate the master bathroom. Heck, the way the hours were piling up, maybe she could have some landscaping done, too.
“Then why are you still standing here?” Belle poked Skye in the shoulder. “Are you hoping Iris will finish without you?”
Skye ground her teeth but managed to walk out the door without slapping the obnoxious woman. Outside, she swept her gaze over the parking lot, searching for the floral designer.
Iris was staying in cottage two, but Skye spotted the tiny woman by the refrigerated storage unit that had been installed in front of number three, the cabin that was being used to assemble her creations.
Iris paused when Skye greeted her, blowing a strand of short dark hair out of her eyes and adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses, but once she gave Skye instructions, they worked in silence.
While Skye helped Iris unload and put away her purchases, she saw signs that the bridesmaids and groomsmen had checked into their cabins. She wondered what they’d be like. Would they resemble Belle, whose continual bragging about her designer clothes, Jaguar convertible, and personal chef precluded any other conversation? Or would they be more similar to Riley, who claimed she wasn’t spoiled, just well taken care of?
When the supplies were unloaded, Skye returned to examining the champagne flutes but continued to think about her fellow attendants. She hoped that despite living in Beverly Hills and Laguna Beach, they would be down-to-earth and easy to get along with.
Skye spent the rest of the afternoon assembling the baskets, and when she arrived home at five, she hurriedly changed into her party outfit, then started making phone calls. Half a dozen names remained on her list when the doorbell rang at six o’clock. After slipping on her new red high heels, she ran down the stairs.
When she opened the front door, Wally gathered her into his arms and kissed her. He was a ruggedly handsome man who had turned forty-two in March. The silver in his black hair and the slight lines around his mouth made him even more attractive to Skye. Although they’d been dating for less than two years, Skye had had a crush on him since she was a teenager and he was a twenty-two-year-old rookie on the Scumble River police force.
Moving farther into the foyer, Wally held her a few inches away and examined her left hand. “Damn! I thought maybe you’d be wearing my diamond.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You know, I’m getting mighty tired of waiting for your answer.”
Skye hung her head. “Sorry. I just haven’t had time to think.” She loved him. What was holding her back? Was she afraid of commitment, of his family’s wealth? Or maybe she just wasn’t sure she wanted to be married at all. “I promise as soon as Riley’s wedding is over, I’ll give you my answer.” It had been more than six months since he’d proposed, and she knew it was unfair to make him wait so long, but she just couldn’t seem to make up her mind.
Wally put a knuckle under her chin and tilted up her face; his smoldering brown eyes stared into her apprehensive green ones. “A week from tomorrow?”
“Next Sunday.” Skye swallowed hard and vowed, “I promise.”
The attendants’ party was being held at Harry’s, a new restaurant in the neighboring town of Laurel. Skye was impressed with the building’s sleek design and wondered whether a rural community like Laurel, albeit the county seat, could support such an elegant and expensive place.
Riley and her fiancé, Nick Jordan, greeted Skye and Wally just inside the door of the restaurant’s private dining room. Skye noticed that although Nick had his arm possessively around Riley’s waist, and Riley appeared to be clinging to him, her expression when Nick wasn’t looking was less than loving. Skye raised an eyebrow at Wally, who nodded imperceptibly, acknowledging that he’d also observed Riley’s behavior.
This was the first time Skye had met Nick. In fact, no one from Scumble River had seen the groom before today. Even the photograph accompanying the engagement announcement in the Scumble River Star had been of only Riley. Looking at Nick, Skye wondered whether the omission had been deliberate. Riley and her husband-to-be reminded Skye of Beauty and the Beast.
May had mentioned something about the difference in age, but Skye had assumed her mother meant a few years, not close to twenty. Nick was at least forty-five, balding, and several inches shorter than his five-foot-ten-inch fiancée.
Skye had pictured Nick as a stallion, but in reality he was more like a miniature pony—a very expensive one, since everything from his diamond-studded gold Submariner Rolex watch to his Clive Christian cologne reeked of wealth and power. It was as if he wore an invisible badge with veni, VIP, vici—I came, I’m a very important person, I conquered—written on it.
As they walked toward the bar, she wasn’t surprised to see that only two other people had already arrived. She and Wally were fifteen minutes early, which was on time by Scumble River standards but was gauchely premature for city folks.
Leading Wally over to where the couple was sitting sipping martinis, Skye said, “H
i, I’m Skye Denison, Riley’s maid of honor, and this is my boyfriend, Wally Boyd.”
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Paige Hathaway, matron of honor.”
Paige wore a jade green formfitting designer minidress with zippers running up both sleeves and a pair of ultrachic matching lace gloves. In comparison, Skye felt dowdy in her simple red and black sheath, her only accessory being dangling onyx earrings.
The matron of honor flipped a strand of waist-length copper red hair behind her shoulder and said, “This is my husband, Zach. He’s the best man.”
Zach was an inch or two taller than Nick and had slightly more hair, but he was similar in age and appearance. He, too, was overly tanned and radiated an aura of success and new money—the garish gold chain resting on his hairy chest could pay most people’s salary for a year, not to mention that his fingernails were more nicely manicured than Skye’s.
Skye and Wally shook hands with Paige and Zach, then sat and placed their order.
“You’re Riley’s cousin, right?” Paige asked.
“Yes.” Skye nodded. “I was a little surprised that she wanted to have her wedding in her hometown.”
“Really?” Paige’s smile was sardonic. “Can’t you guess why?”
“Well ...” Skye bit her lip. “I’m sure family was a big consideration. Despite having moved away, she’s close to her mother and grandmother.”
“And?” Paige prompted.
“And, I suspect, a part of her is still a small-town girl who wants everyone from her past to see how far she’s come. The wedding will certainly create a splash Scumble Riverites will never forget.”
“True. She definitely likes to be the best.” Paige’s expression was indecipherable. “But you’re missing the most important point. Why do you think she wanted you to be her maid of honor?”
“I’m her cousin?”
“Guess again,” Paige ordered, then didn’t give Skye a chance to respond. “You were also her idol.”
Skye’s heart sank. “Oh.” Being put on a pedestal was never good. It only meant there was a long way to fall.
“When we first met, all she could talk about was how you had gotten away from Scumble River and were living in foreign countries and ‘showing’ everyone. She was really disappointed when you moved back home. This is her opportunity to surpass her hero.”
“I see.” Skye decided it was time to change the subject. “How long have you and Riley been friends?”
“We met freshman year at Cal State and roomed together until Zach and I got married this past December.” Paige’s green eyes had a faraway look in them. “Riley and I sure had a good time together in college. They called us the Fire and Ice twins.”
Zach added, “Nick and I do a lot of business together, and after I started dating Paige, she and I introduced Riley to Nick.”
“It’s always fun when friends marry friends.” Skye smiled at the couple. “So you’re newlyweds. Riley probably mentioned that I’m helping out the wedding planner. I’m surprised by the amount of time and money involved. Did you two opt for a big wedding, too?”
“Oh, yeah.” Zach made a face.
“I hope you don’t think this is a rude question,” Skye said hesitantly, “but I’m really curious. Since it seems Riley’s wedding is so expensive, even at Midwest prices, how much does it cost to get married in California?”
“I don’t know.” Zach tone was mocking. “I’m still paying.”
“Good thing you can afford it.” Paige punched him lightly in the arm. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have said ‘I do.‘” She arched a brow at Skye. “Money may not buy happiness, but it’s sure more comfortable crying in a Rolls-Royce than a Volkswagen.”
The bartender served their drinks, saving Skye from coming up with a response. After Wally took a swig of his beer, he said, “Nick is paying, too. Around here, the bride’s family usually takes care of the wedding. Is it common practice on the West Coast for the groom to foot the bill?”
“No.” Zach shrugged. “But in the type of businesses Nick and I are in, it’s important to make the right impression, so I figured if I paid, nobody but me would be griping about the tab. Plus, I wanted to get married in L.A., not in Paige’s hometown.”
“That seems fair,” Skye said. “I guess Nick didn’t care about the location. Of course, he is flying two hundred of his closest friends into Chicago and hiring a fleet of limo-buses to bring them to Scumble River the day of the wedding.” Skye took a sip of her mojito. “Where are you from, Paige?”
“A little town in Florida, north of Tampa. My dad’s a rancher.”
“Mine, too.” Wally grinned. “But in west Texas.”
Skye held her breath. Wally hardly ever mentioned his father. Would he admit that besides owning a ranch in El Paso, Carson Boyd was also the head of a multimillion-dollar corporation?
When Wally didn’t go on, Skye wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. Part of her—the superficial and competitive part—wanted Riley’s friends to know that her boyfriend was rich, too. She hadn’t missed Zach’s quick assessment and dismissal of her off-the-rack dress and non-designer shoes.
But another part—the one that worried that Wally would get tired of her and leave her, the part that wondered whether marrying him was a good idea—was glad he’d kept quiet about his wealthy background. Talking about it might mean he was considering resigning as chief of police and taking over CB International as his father wanted him to do.
“Sorry.” Skye realized she’d been lost in thought when she noticed they were all waiting for her to answer a question. “What did you say?”
Wally put his arm around her. “Just that your dad is a farmer, so all three of us come from rural backgrounds.”
“How about you, Zach?” Skye asked.
“Me, too.” Zach’s hazel eyes were hooded. “My family owns a vineyard in Napa Valley.”
“I’m glad to hear you two are used to small-town life,” Skye said. “I was wondering what you all would do with yourself for a week in Scumble River. I was afraid you’d be bored out of your minds.”
“I’m looking forward to a little downtime.” Paige laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Zach’s business is so hectic, we hardly ever get to spend time with just each other.”
“The real estate bubble is going to burst someday, so, as my grandfather used to say, I’ve got to make hay while the sun shines,” Zach said.
“Mine used to say that, too.” Skye raised her glass. “Here’s to a sunny 2005.”
Riley walked up as they finished the toast and pulled Skye away. “I want you to meet the rest of the wedding party.” Once they were out of earshot of the bar, she wrinkled her nose at Skye. “I thought your mother said you were going to lose some weight before the wedding.”
Skye opened her mouth to make a scathing reply but decided humor would annoy her cousin more. “Sorry, but every time I say the word diet, I have to eat a piece of chocolate to get the awful taste out of my mouth.”
“Well.” Two red circles formed on Riley’s cheeks, and she huffed, “Your dress better fit.” Not waiting for Skye to answer, Riley led her to another couple and said, “This is my cousin, Skye Denison. Skye, this is Nick’s daughter, Hallie, and his son, Hale. They’re twins.”
“Good to meet you.” Skye examined the two young people, who looked remarkably alike. Both were about five-six and slender, with baby-fine brown hair and doelike brown eyes. But while Hallie wore little makeup and no jewelry, her twin had multiple piercings and a scraggily beard and mustache.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” the twins said in unison.
“It’s great you’re able to spend the week with us here in Scumble River. Are you in college?” She guessed they were nineteen or twenty.
“Yes, ma’am,” they both replied.
Skye wondered whether one could speak without the other. Their unity was a little creepy.
Before Skye could ask anything more, two men and a wo
man joined them, and Riley said, “This is one of my business partners, Tabitha Urick. Tab, this is my cousin, Skye.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Skye held out her hand.
The striking ebony-skinned woman smiled and shook it. “Good to meet you, too. Riley’s talked about you a lot.” Her voice had a slight island lilt. “You are like us, leaving your home to seek your destiny. But you returned. Riley and I are still among the Lotus Eaters.”
Skye couldn’t tell whether Tabitha thought that was a good or bad thing. “I was gone for twelve years, but it’s been nice to be back.” Most of the time, Skye added silently. “You two own an interior design firm, right?” She remembered her grandmother mentioning Riley’s business.
“Yes.” Tabitha added, “Paige is our partner as well.”
Riley gestured to the two men standing nearby. “And this is Gus Zeitler and Liam Murphy, golfing buddies of Nick’s.” After Skye and the men exchanged greetings, Riley continued, “Gus is in construction, and Liam is our attorney.”
Liam, a tall, ascetic-looking man, frowned. “That reminds me, did you get your marriage license yesterday?”
“Yes.” Riley nodded. “We flew into O’Hare yesterday morning and swung by the Stanley County courthouse on our way to Scumble River.”
“Good.” The lawyer took a BlackBerry out of his pocket and made an entry. “Then all that’s left is for us to get together tomorrow so we can finish the prenup.”
“I don’t know when we’ll have time,” Riley said. “We’re having brunch in Oakbrook tomorrow, then shopping for my wedding jewelry. I doubt we’ll be back much before six. Maybe we could wait until we get back from our honeymoon.”
“I’ll put you down for seven.” Liam’s expression was unbending. “Excuse me. I need to check my messages.”
Skye wondered whether she and Wally would need a prenuptial agreement. If she agreed to marry him, that is.
When Riley went off to tell Nick about their appointment with the lawyer, Gus shook his head. “Poor Liam. He’s such a workaholic; leaving his office for a week is killing him.”
Murder of a Wedding Belle Page 3