The four people looked over in greeting. Charlotte displayed little restraint as she dashed across the teak decking in bare feet to embrace Emily in a warm hug. The men, Ethan and Ron, stood, and each shook her hand. Ethan’s handshake brought back all the sexy memories and emotions she’d been fighting the past few days, and she could tell by the slight tilting up of the corner of his mouth that he’d felt the way her pulse jumped when he rubbed his thumb across her inner wrist. But his voice was impartial when he said a simple, “Hello, nice to see you again, Emily.”
Ron’s handshake was so completely different that Emily had to suppress a shudder of revulsion as his slimy, clammy palm weakly clasped hers. His eyes raked her up and down, and with a barely concealed leer he said, “Pleasure to meet you, Emily. I’ve heard so much about you from my soon-to-be daughter. She can’t seem to stop speaking of you. It’s always Emily said this, or Emily says we need this. And my wallet is definitely feeling all of it.” He patted his back pocket and let out a breathy, hissy laugh.
Emily tried not to gag.
Ron was still holding her hand, though the time had long passed for him to let it go. Emily gave a slight tug to free herself, but though his grasp felt wimpy, he tightened it enough that she couldn’t gracefully extract herself. He went on. “I don’t have any children of my own, so I certainly never expected to be paying for someone else’s wedding. Especially one that seems to be including all the extras.”
Emily couldn’t help flicking her eyes toward Ethan in a silent plea for help. Before he could say anything, however, Vivienne saved her.
Though she remained seated, she held out an arm of welcome to Emily, beckoning her to come sit next to her in one of the wicker chairs. Even Ron knew that he had to release Emily now and that holding her hand captive any longer would be obviously improper. He did release her, but with a squeeze of…warning? It was something, but before Emily could interpret it, Vivienne spoke.
“Come now, everyone, let’s not spoil this lovely evenin’ with talk of money. It’s such an ugly topic, and I for one want to revel in this weather.” The weather had turned, and rainstorms earlier in the day had chased out the humidity, leaving the city crisp and clean. It was an unexpected break for early summer, but definitely a welcome one.
Emily sat between Charlotte and Vivienne, staring across at the men. Every time she crossed her legs, she felt Ron’s snaky gaze on them, and she tried her best to still her fidgeting.
The talk moved from the weather (so pleasant!) to the baby giraffe that had just been born at the zoo, to the addition of a block of downtown to the historic district that would prevent a McDonald’s from moving in, to the best place to get authentic Mexican food. Emily was used to extended exchange of pleasantries and small talk before one got down to discussing the business they had all come together for, and usually she was quite adept at small talk. Today, however, she was too on-edge to keep up her chitchat. Thankfully, Charlotte and Vivienne stepped up to fill every pause and silence.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the small talk wound to a close, and moved gracefully into talk of the wedding. Emily marveled at the way Vivienne managed it. A true Southerner, Vivienne never liked to discuss anything financial or involving money or business, and even though this was supposed to be a business meeting, Vivienne made it seem like an extension of the casual conversation as the segued into the topic. Before long, Emily found herself suggesting the awful ideas about the “theme rooms” set up throughout the house, and Charlotte, prepared for these suggestions, eagerly agreed to all of them.
Ron made a snarky comment about how much this would cost him, but a reproachful look from Vivienne effectively silenced him. Vivienne even committed the faux pas of talking about money, assuring Ron that the payment would ultimately come from her own sizeable fortune just as soon as the awful business with the thief was concluded. She even went so far as to allude to the fact the she might not even notice if a million or two was missing, implying that the account balance was sizeable enough that a couple million dollars could go missing unnoticed.
Emily was shocked by this egregious breach of etiquette in bringing up one’s fortune, but did notice the way Ron’s eyes widened and how he was suddenly much kinder and more solicitous to Vivienne after she made her statement. Maybe Vivienne was onto him in some way after all, Emily thought. Good for her. She hoped that Vivienne would demand a pre-nup in the case that the investigation failed and they ended up married in the end. Bless their souls.
*****
Then the tour was beginning. It began, not surprisingly, in the kitchen, where Emily took notes and photos of the six-burner, restaurant-style range, double wall oven, and refrigerator that seemed to span an entire wall. It was camouflaged as cabinet face, of course.
She also measured the dimensions of the veranda to determine how many tables would fit and how many guests could be accommodated before the group moved to the grand ballroom (yes, the house had an actual ballroom). As Emily and Charlotte had discussed earlier, there would be no formal sit-down dinner arranged for the evening. Rather, there would be substantial appetizers with bar-top tables and a few sit down tables for the older guests. Of, course, since the wedding wasn’t likely to happen in the end, all this planning was fruitless, but the part must be played.
Emily dutifully took her measurements and asked the right questions, and despite it all, began to become invested in the process. She actually gasped in startled delight when the heavy drapes were pulled back from one side of the ballroom revealing a wall of accordion glass doors that folded and folded and folded until the entire span was open to the warm, evening breeze, the emerald lawn and the soft kiss of sunset light.
“We all,” she exclaimed, swirling around in an approximation of a waltz move, her face pink with excitement, “must pray for nice weather on the wedding day. This view is, just, breathtaking, and it would be a sin to have to keep these doors closed during the reception!”
Emily’s eyes swept the group, trying to implore them with her gaze, to impart the seriousness of this request. She reddened, not from excitement, but from embarrassment, when her gaze landed on Ron, and she remembered that he was a preacher, even if just an ersatz one. He probably didn’t appreciate her request for prayers for something as self-serving as sun on a wedding day.
“Um, I mean, we should just hope for nice weather. God will, uh, send what he sees fit, right?” she asked lamely. To save face, if possible, she found herself talking more. “The room is glorious on its own, so the night will be perfect either way.”
Then she wondered if “glorious” would be considered a “Godly” word, and if she needed to apologize again. Ugh…this was hard. She felt like that woman in the movie Love Actually, meeting the Prime Minister of Britain for the first time, and ends up cussing in front of him a million times by accident. Emily pressed her lips together in an effort to stop herself from saying more and making it worse.
As she pulled her lower lip into her mouth with her teeth unconsciously as she tried to figure out something appropriate to say, she noticed two things happening almost simultaneously: the eyes of both Ethan and Ron were suddenly locked on her mouth, and though they both carried a look of arousal in their eyes, her reactions to the two were so completely contradictory, that her body felt alternately hot as fuck and cold as a slimy fish. When she looked at Ethan, and saw the desire in his eyes, her body gushed. But then she saw Ron’s lecherous leer, and read his intent in his eyes, which would have been gross even if she thought that he had more than his own pleasure in mind. The way his eyes traveled over her body as though he was claiming her, implied that he’d take what he wanted from her and care little about what she wanted. He might even like it more if he took it without her permission.
Suppressing a shudder, Emily looked away from both men, and focused again on the view. It was still a beautiful sight, but something had been lost for her during the interaction with Ron. The magic of the moment was gone, and she remembered again t
he task that lay ahead of her still.
Charlotte and Vivienne seemed oblivious, both admiring the view.
Emily cleared her throat. “So, I have what I need in here. If we are able to open the doors, we can easily accommodate the guest list in here, since we’ll be able to spill people out onto the veranda. I suppose,” she paused for a moment as she considered the options, “if it is raining, we can have a tent to cover the patio, which allows us to use this room regardless of the weather.” She took out her notebook and jotted down a reminder to call the tent rental company. “Of course,” Emily said, thinking aloud, “that means guests will have access to the pool. Will there be a lot of kids coming? If yes, then we should have a lifeguard or two here to watch them.” Emily wrote another note to herself.
She knew what was next. They’d done the easy rooms, now they’d have to move on to the smaller rooms, and soon Emily would have to find an excuse to be alone in Ron’s office. “Shall we move on?” she asked the group.
The others murmured their assent, and they all prepared to leave the large room. From the corner of her eye, Emily watched Ron approach Vivienne and lay a possessive hand on her lower back to guide her away. Almost imperceptibly, Vivienne’s shoulders tightened at his touch. Emily might have wondered about it, but she felt a hand at her own back, and felt her own shoulders stiffen in response. Not because she was repulsed or annoyed at his touch. Rather, she had to steel herself against the surge of emotion that she felt every time Ethan’s hand touched her body, had to fight her desire to melt into him.
Either Ethan caught her tensing motion, or he read her mind, because his hand dropped away.
Emily was relieved. Really. Though she couldn’t ignore the heat that lingered where his hand had touched her or the cold that she felt everywhere else on her body now that his touch was gone.
*****
The group moved on, and Emily did her best to focus. She took more notes, and talked about ideas for different themes in the different rooms. The formal living room would be a perfect place to set up some card tables. The family room would be where she would set up a lounge area. The library would be a good place to set up the toys and games for any children who wanted some entertainment other than the wedding itself. Two college girls had already been hired to babysit for the evening.
Finally, they had seen everything except for one closed door. Emily approached it with her hand out to turn the doorknob and enter. “Okay, so what do we have in here?” she asked, even though she had already guessed. She turned the doorknob just as Ron’s hand came down hard on hers. Her skin recoiled as his touch, and she pulled her hand out from under his, probably with more force than was necessary, but she couldn’t bear the feel of him any longer than necessary. Emily would have sworn he was excited by her fear and revulsion.
“That room will not be a part of the wedding,” Ron said sternly. “It’s my office and off-limits to the guests. It will be locked.”
“Okay,” Emily responded, her mind whirling. “But it would be great to have one more space available down here for the women to freshen up. Even though we’ll bring in trailers for people to use as restrooms, they won’t be large, and I thought it would be great to have a makeup room here, with all sorts of items available that women might need at a wedding: you know, bobby pins, and mascara and lip-gloss samples. Sort of like a little buffet of make-up. There can be samples of different perfumes, and makeup, along with the essentials like Band-Aids and mints. I have a great relationship with a PR rep at a large North Carolina-based makeup company and I’m sure she’d be happy to send us sample sizes of a lot of their products.”
“Ooh!” Charlotte exclaimed, “I love it! What a great idea!”
“Not in here,” Ron’s voice cut in coldly. “My office is not to be used as a room for little girls to play dress up.” Was Emily imagining the sly glint in his eye when he said “little girls”? God, he was disgusting!
Charlotte’s shoulders came back in offense at his words. “Technically, Ron,” she responded icily, “the house is my mother’s, so it’s not actually your office.”
Emily thought she heard the collective gasp of breath from the rest of the group at Charlotte’s words. She definitely saw the narrowing of Ron’s eyes. This was not a good direction for the meeting to take. She didn’t need Ron’s back up on this, or she’d never get into the room. If Charlotte pushed him too far, he might decide not to pay for any of the wedding, and then the money trail would be impossible to find. It seemed that the animosity between Charlotte and Ron, which had been simmering beneath the surface for some time, was about to burst to the surface.
Ethan stepped in to save the situation. “Charlotte, Vivienne, I know that you had planned to keep the second floor clear of guests, but what if you use the large guest suite as the makeup room Emily proposed? That way the women will all have a little privacy from the rest of the crowd, and it might be a little more intimate. We can have an attendant or two upstairs to keep things straightened up and make sure no one goes to the other bedrooms upstairs.”
“That sounds like a perfect place,” Emily said gratefully. She didn’t know how she was going to get into the office now, but at least the immediate conflict would be resolved.
As far as her mission, which Emily was beginning to think was going to fail, Ethan saved her there too.
“Let’s all go upstairs and check it out then,” Ethan said in a jovial voice.
While the others put down their boxing gloves and nodded their assent, and began walking to the grand, curved staircase in the front hall, Ethan gave her a pointed look. She had to make her move. Ethan had told her earlier he’d make an opening for her to separate from the rest of the group. This seemed to be the moment.
“Um…” she stammered. “Could I excuse myself for a moment? I need to, uh, visit the bath—restroom.”
“Of course,” Vivienne smiled at her. “Do you remember the way, just down the hall to your right?”
“Yep, got it. I’ll meet you all upstairs?” she hated that the statement came out like a question, but she was nervous.
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “We will wait for you here. Then we can all go up together.”
Ugh. Now what? With no other ideas coming to mind, and needing the rest of the group to go upstairs without her, Emily resurrected her earlier lie.
“Well, um…” She didn’t have to fake the embarrassment that stained her cheeks pink. “It’s sort of that time for me, you know, that time of month, and I might need a while.” This was going down as most mortifying moment ever.
Vivienne’s eyes popped open, and even Charlotte looked a little shocked. Ethan gave her an awesomely sexy atta-girl grin. Ron’s face twisted with disgust.
Vivienne recovered quickly, and linked her arm through Ron’s, guiding him up. “We’ll see you upstairs,” she said simply.
Then the rest of the group was walking up, and Emily was staying down. This was her moment, and her heart began thudding like mad, her palms sweating. Seriously, how could so much sweat come out of her hands? She needed deodorant for them, or something. Did they make that? Hand deodorant? Emily could think of a few past dates who could have used it, if such a product was available.
Focus, Emily told herself. Don’t get distracted by hand sweat or bad dates. Just go in, upload the program, and get out.
Emily quietly turned the knob to the office door, and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t locked. She’d learn later that Ethan had picked the lock earlier.
The room was surprisingly boring. While the rest of the house exuded southern charm and grace, this room was all utilitarian. The bones of charm remained, with the plaster molding and warm wood floors. But the windows, which were probably gorgeous like the rest in the house, were covered with drab, green curtains, and a basic cubicle-style desk was centered in the middle of the room, flanked by metal filing cabinets. Two basic office chairs faced the desk, though given Ron’s reaction to her trying to enter the room before,
she guessed that they were rarely used. They had the thin, metal arms and cheap, yellowish upholstery that one might see in a dentist’s waiting room, and behind the desk was an office chair on casters similar to those sold at large office supply stores or membership required discount stores.
Emily ignored her surprise at the set-up, and made her way directly to the computer that rested on the center of the desk. She moved the mouse to wake up the screen, and prepared to insert the flash drive. Only a prompt for the password popped up, freezing Emily in her place.
Of course there was a password. Why had no one thought that Ron would password protect his computer?
WTF was she supposed to do now? Guess at what his password might be in the unrealistic hope that she’d actually guess it, the way it always happened on TV?
Frustrated, Emily stabbed at the keys, entering the words “littlegirlsarecute”.
Password is incorrect. Please retype your password.
Shit. Now what? Emily knew she’d never guess the correct password on her own, so she lifted the keyboard in case he’d written it down on the underside of it. No luck. She looked under the mouse, and then pulled out the center drawer, checking the few scraps of paper inside for the key. Still nothing.
Knowing she had just moments before she needed to leave, or risk being caught, she pulled at the top drawer at the side of the desk. Locked. Fuck!
But it was also a good sign…he had something in there that he wanted to be safe, and it could just be the password she needed. Emily had plenty of experience breaking into cheap locks like the one that secured the desk drawer. She’d snooped on her mother plenty of times as a child, entering her room, and opening her private drawers undetected countless times. Now, all it took was a paper clip from the top drawer and a few deft moves, and the drawer slid open.
The first thing Emily noticed was the porn. The words “Barely legal” and “twin teens” floated up at her. The second thing Emily noticed was a yellow sticky note with the word “wiNeCuntry69” written on it. Gross.
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