by Gina LaManna
Sugared
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SUGARED
First edition. July 8, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Gina LaManna.
Written by Gina LaManna.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note
It's hard to believe we're already at Book 10 with the Luzzi gang! For that, this book goes out to all of the Lacey Luzzi readers who've stuck with the journey this far. It's because of you that this series has evolved into the double digits! Thank you!
Synopsis
Wedding bells are ringing in Luzzi Land! The church is booked, the decorations are set, and the cakes—all ten of them—are ready to be frosted. Lacey Luzzi is getting married, and her grandmother finally gets to cry those tears of joy, gosh darn it.
Until one phone call changes everything.
When the Violet Society’s newest recruit is found dead at the St. Paul Cathedral, Lacey Luzzi is the first to be notified, and she’s not happy about it. After all, the bride-to-be is supposedly on vacation from all things unlawful. Even worse? She’s scheduled to be married at the scene of the crime in exactly one week.
After the police rule the death a suicide, however, Lacey pushes aside her wedding dress and sets down her bouquet. The whole situation reeks of foul play, and Lacey’s determined to bring her friend’s murderer to justice—if it’s the last thing she does before walking down the aisle.
Lacey, Clay, Meg, and Anthony have seven days to find the killer. If they fail, they’ll be changing out wedding invitations for funeral arrangements faster than Anthony can say I do.
Assuming “until death do us part” doesn’t happen first.
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Acknowledgments
To my mom, who has read every one of my books!
To Alex, for listening to me talk about “my friends”—Lacey and Meg—day after day.
To Stacia, who sometimes believes in my books even when I don’t.
To the LaManna’s Ladies group for always managing to put a smile on my face, no matter what.
Thank you for the unicorns and ice cream and glitter.
To my early readers—Kim, Dianne, Barb, and Connie—thank you, always!
To the Ocean’s Apart girls for bringing me into the fold.
To Angela B for the pre-honeymoon cruise idea—Meg & Lacey appreciate it!
To my newest friend at Highland Nursery—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Most of all, to everyone who’s read the entire Lacey Luzzi series—thank you!
Chapter 1
“How’d you get here so quickly?” I glanced down at my watch. “I texted you less than five minutes ago.”
“I was having coffee with Nora,” Meg said, grinning in the entryway. “Her house is right next door.”
“I’m well aware that my grandmother’s house is next door. But what were you doing there? Without me?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“What about Sunday?”
“Nora and I go to church together and then have tea. We do this every week, Lacey, get with the program.”
“What?” I moved back from my own front door, watching as Meg entered and proceeded to unload a few spare necessities from the hundreds of pockets in her camo vest. “Why have I never been invited?”
“You haven’t?” Meg frowned. “Huh, I assumed Nora mentioned it to you. Maybe your invitation was lost in the mail. Did you ever consider that?”
“Not really,” I said. “Since we live right next door.”
“Right, and you see them multiple times a day.”
“You’re only proving my point.”
“Well, fudge.” Meg waved it off. “Sorry about the invitation. Come with us next week. By the way, I gave up swearing for Lent. What’d you give up?”
“Ice cream.”
“And how’s that been going?”
“Stressful.”
“It’s been less than a week.”
“A stressful week.”
“I can see that,” she murmured, a finger pressed to her lip as she surveyed me carefully. “You’ve gained weight in your face. Have you replaced ice cream with something else? French Fries? Hamburgers? Steak? What do you have to eat around here? I’m making my stomach rumble.”
“I thought you just had breakfast?”
“Well, my legs didn’t walk over here by themselves,” Meg said, making her way to the pantry and throwing the doors open. “I need energy.”
I didn’t bother to comment that her legs had, as a matter of fact, not walked themselves over here since she’d parked her car out front. I also didn’t bother to offer her any food because frankly, she was a better host than me.
“Nice,” Meg said, finding a stack of Pringles near the back of the emergency supply cupboard. “Dill.”
“Did you bring what I asked?”
“Oh, yeah. I have it.” Meg popped the top on the chip canister and peeked inside. “Lacey. What in the heck?”
“Don’t judge me.” I snatched the canister from her. “I like to pretend it’s full.”
“Why do you leave an empty can of Pringles in the cupboard? Wait a minute, I know this answer.” She narrowed her eyes at me, a hand stuck on her hip. “Anthony bought those for you yesterday, and you don’t want him to know they’re gone.”
“It’s this being off ice cream business. I’m stress eating. This will be a long forty days.”
“Thirty-something left,” Meg said. “Hang in there, girl.”
“Meg, about the...” I gestured between us. To say the words aloud would make this whole thing real, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted it to be real yet or not.
“Oh, yeah. Why do you need these, anyway?” From within one of the pockets of her vest, she pulled out a small box of pregnancy tests. “Here you go. Godspeed, my friend.”
I felt my face drain of blood as I accepted the box. “Did you just ask why I would need these?”
“I meant why the rush? I thought your house was burning down when you first texted.”
“Do you just store these in your pockets?”
“Of course not. Who do you think I am, Hermione Granger? I don’t go around just pulling magic out of my pockets. I picked them up like you asked.”
I made my way through the newly restored barn that Anthony had turned into a home for us. It was the perfect blend of sleek wood and black surfaces. All modern cabinets and squashy furniture that was too comfortable for productivity. The whole thing made for a happy, cozy home. Except for this m
orning, in which case it was a panic-stricken, ice-cream-starved home.
“You never answered my question,” Meg said. “What’s the rush?”
“I’m late.”
“For what?”
I turned to face her. “I’m holding a pregnancy test. I asked you to rush over here. Do you really need to ask what I’m late for?”
Meg blinked, as if that should answer the question. I was wondering if perhaps Marissa and Clarissa could take her along to biology day at their elementary school. Then, she shrugged. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Wait here,” I instructed, moving into the bathroom. Adrenaline coursed through my body, and my hands itched to close the door. “You do know where babies come from? And how women’s bodies work?”
Meg stuck her foot in the door before I could close it. “Yeah, mostly. Except for that little dangling thing in the back of my throat; I don’t understand the importance of that.”
“The uvula?”
“I call it the mystery of science,” Meg said. “And it’s sort of a cute decoration.”
I sighed. “Well, I appreciate you coming over. Anthony’s gone for the day, and he doesn’t know yet that I suspect anything, and... I guess I wanted someone here with me.”
“You know I’ll always be there for you,” Meg said. She slid an arm over my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. “Don’t be nervous. You do want kids, right?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t wanting them so quickly.”
“You’re almost married. What difference does a week make?”
“Meg.” I stared up at her. “Anthony and I are already married—you were there. We’re coming up on our one year anniversary.”
“Oh. Right. This second wedding thing next week has my timeline all off.”
“It’s just a ceremony. More for Nora than anyone else.”
“Well, I still can’t believe you gave up ice cream during your second wedding month.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“So, are we gonna do this thing?” Meg looked down at my hands, then at the toilet. “I won’t pretend to know how it works.”
“We are not going to do anything,” I said, pushing her gently out the door. “You are going to wait right here.”
“Good luck,” Meg said. “Or break a leg, or...whatever.”
I closed and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, I quickly read the instructions and took care of business, then washed up and rested my hands against the sink. I used the opportunity to take a good long look at myself in the mirror.
There’s no way I was ready for parenthood. I was hardly an adult myself. I mean, technically I’d been an adult for almost half my life, but it didn’t always feel that way. My heart thumped against my chest as I stared harder and harder at my face.
That’s when I found it.
The wrinkle.
“Meg!” I yanked open the door.
“What?!” She looked up in alarm. “Does it work that fast?”
“I’m not young anymore.”
“What?”
“Look.” I pointed out the stupid wrinkle on my forehead. Then I grabbed a little bit of extra skin on my thigh. “I’m getting wrinkly, and I can’t eat only sugar and not gain weight anymore. I’m going to turn gray and fat soon.”
“Um, you’re not fat,” Meg said. “So, you can stop worrying about that. And when we go gray, it’ll be fun. We can get our hair fixed together and our nails done and have girly dates. So, I ain’t worried about that either, chickadee.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” I said, turning back to the mirror and meeting her gaze in its reflection. “If I want to have kids, maybe now’s the time. Maybe this is a sign that I don’t have my whole life ahead of me anymore.”
“Yeah, probably just half of it,” Meg said. “If my math checks out.”
“Half my life left?” I frowned. “I want to live longer than sixty.”
“Then lay off the cake.”
I crossed my arms. “You know how people say women of a certain age? The saying. It just hit me. I’ve discovered that certain age. It’s my age. I’m of a certain age.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening right now. I thought we were talking about wrinkles. Is the test done?”
“No, it takes a few minutes.”
“Then why are you freaking out?”
“Because I don’t know what I want the answer to be when it’s ready!”
Meg nodded, but the implication didn’t seem to click with her. “What does Anthony think?”
I gave a half-shrug, which was more like a shoulder-flop. I was too tired to do a full shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. We both agreed we want kids in the future, but we never actively decided that the future had arrived.”
“Well you actively did something to require a pregnancy test.”
“I just figured we’d talk about it after the official wedding ceremony. Then, maybe we’d try, you know? Nobody else knows we’re married, so that only makes sense.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Would it be so bad?” I looked at myself in the mirror as I said this, asking the question to the air more than to Meg. “I love Anthony, and he loves me. We’ve been together a few years, married almost one. This is what people do. I’m over thirty. We want a family. Why not now?”
“I don’t think you’re trying to convince me, hon.”
I turned my back to the counter, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “I think... I think that maybe I’d be happy if it turned out positive.”
A smile lit Meg’s face, reflecting the emotions I hadn’t—couldn’t—quite face. “Honey, that’s great! You’re allowed to be happy! Things happen when the time’s right. If now is the right time, it’s the right time. If not, it’ll come when you’re ready.”
Sometimes Meg offered little nuggets of clarity at just the right moment, and this was one of those times. I leaned against my friend, let her hold me tight as my shaky breaths settled into a more normal rhythm.
“Well,” I said, pulling back. “Let’s find out.”
Chapter 2
I let the pregnancy test fall from my fingers. It spiraled down and clanked against the edge of the trashcan. I breathed. Breathed again, and tried to steady my pulse.
“Lacey, can I borrow a cup of sugar?” Nora asked, opening the front door to my house and calling through the rooms. “I really do need a cup of sugar. I’m not just here to chit chat again.”
“Sure,” Meg called, since I clearly couldn’t answer. “Borrow two cups if you want. We’re sort of busy, so help yourself.”
I blinked again, leaning against the counter for stability. I tried to speak, but I didn’t get far. My phone rang then instead, and it took every last bit of effort to swipe the vibrating device off the counter and answer it.
“Hello?” I asked, not recognizing the number. “Lacey here.”
“Lacey Luzzi?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Detective Rocha, and I’m sorry to deliver this news, but I’m going to need a second of your time.”
I groaned. “No. I’m off duty.”
“Off duty?”
“Are you calling me about Lacey Luzzi Security Services? I’m not in business for a moment. Starting last Friday, I’ve given up all things having to do with crime for the next three weeks. I’m getting married, and then I’m going on my honeymoon, and I’m not dealing with the law. Please and thank you.”
“I’m sorry to change your plans, but I will need to ask you a few questions. Do you know how to get to the cathedral?”
“In Saint Paul?” I cleared my throat. “Minnesota?”
He sounded unamused at my questions. “Yes, of course.”
“Well, I’m just checking because I know the location quite well,” I told him. “After all, I’m getting married there next Saturday.”
The silence on the phone was palpable.
“Hello?” I asked. “Detective Rocha?”
“Processing what? Why’d you call?”
“Well, I’m down here at the cathedral now, and I have a body with your name on it.”
“A body?” I said the words while looking at Meg, and she gave a shrug of confusion right along with me. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Detective Rocha cleared his throat. “Why don’t you come here and take a look for yourself, ma’am. We’ll need you to ID the body if, indeed, you knew him.”
“But I don’t want to look at bodies,” I told him. “And nobody should have my name on them. Especially if they’re dead. I don’t like dead bodies.”
“Ma’am—”
“Don’t call me ma’am,” I snapped. “I’m not old. It’s one wrinkle, you bully.”
“Apologies, Ms. Luzzi.”
“Mrs.—” I snapped again, but then remembered Nora was probably eavesdropping in the kitchen, so I quickly corrected myself. “Soon to be Mrs.”
“I recommend you swing by here, so I can ask you some questions in person. It’ll make things a lot easier.”
I fell silent. The last thing I wanted to do was go stare at a dead body. Not now, not ever. But why in the world would a dead guy—assuming I had the correct gender—have my name on him?
“What does he look like?” I asked, a new bout of panic resurfacing with vigor. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”
The detective cleared his throat. “Ma’am...ah... Mrs—soon to be Mrs. Luzzi, I’m not at liberty to say, but—”
“Is he handsome?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“Dark hair?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I let the phone drop into the sink, my face reflecting white as a ghost back at me. It couldn’t be Anthony. It couldn’t be Anthony. Not now, not after this morning.
I must have been repeating this aloud, in a haze, because Meg shook my shoulders. “What can’t be Anthony?”
“There’s a dead body at the St. Paul Cathedral,” I told Meg. “We’re supposed to get married there in one week. Apparently, the dead person had something with my name on it.”