For Better or Hearse

by Ann Yost

  He shot her a quick, concerned glance but his words confused her.

  “I hope that’s not your answer,”

  She touched the back of her head, gingerly. “My answer to what?”

  “My proposal, of course. I want you to marry me.”

  She blinked at him. “My concussion’s making me hallucinate.”

  “No such luck. If you and I are both staying in Mayville we have to get married. There’s no other way to cohabitate in a small town and, lady, I intend to sleep with you.”

  He delivered the devastating speech while passing another driver and she stared at his profile.

  “I know it’s not much of a proposal,” he admitted, “but I mean it. Will you? Marry me, I mean?”

  She still didn’t understand.

  “Is this about the Gray Lady?”

  He sent her an impatient look and pulled off the interstate even though there was no shoulder and the railing scraped the side of the Malibu. He turned and grabbed her upper arms.

  “This isn’t about the Gray Lady.”

  “Then it’s about my sisters. You heard they’re moving to Chicago and you feel sorry for me.”

  “Listen to me, Daisy Budd. I never felt less sorry for anyone in my whole life. You’ve got courage and perseverance and a whole support system here. I’m proposing for one reason and one reason only: I want you, woman.” He found her lips and kissed her until they were both out of breath. But neither the thrill of the declaration nor the mounting passion could make her ignore the words he’d chosen.

  Want. Not love.

  After a moment he ended the kiss but he stared into her eyes.

  “So it’s settled,” he said, firmly. “We’ll get married.”

  Regret flooded her soul but she shook her head.

  “I don’t think so.”

  ****

  Nick couldn’t believe how badly he’d screwed up. Talk about a textbook example of how not to get a woman to marry you. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong circumstances, no knee, no ring. In the moment that counted he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned about women and he’d just blurted out the truth.

  I want you.

  The problem was the truth contained no romance at all. He might just as well have admitted that happily after for him meant sexual satisfaction. No woman wanted to hear that, least of all a cockeyed romantic like Daisy Budd.

  He could have admitted to sympathy about her sisters. He hated to see her hurt by their defection. But he knew she wouldn’t see sympathy as a compelling reason either.

  She wanted a declaration of love. The word stuck in his throat. In his experience, love was a concept that always led to disappointment. It was something he did not believe in and, as much as he wanted her, he wasn’t going to lie.

  In the midst of his self-disgust he had to admit to a sliver of relief. Marriage didn’t work for the Bowmans. In the end, a man could only rely on himself. Not that she would believe that. She was looking out the window and he glanced at the coppery curls and wanted to thread his fingers through them. He wanted to lose himself in her heat and bury himself in her body. He wanted her so close that no one could hurt her. Not even him.

  “Nick?”

  Her voice surprised him. “Yeah?”

  “That copy of Time magazine. Is there any way that could be the blue diamond?”

  “No.” He paused. “It’s not worth that much.” Her face was too pale under the smattering of freckles and his gut clenched. He pulled into a Stop-n-Go. “Wait here.” A minute later he emerged with water and aspirin.

  “I don’t need it. My head doesn’t hurt.”

  He uncapped the bottle, ripped open the packet and swallowed the tablets.

  “Mine does.”

  ****

  The front door of Happily Ever After stood wide open. Nick could see a little old lady, Miss Florence of Flowers by Florence, in the foyer. She had a hanging basket in each hand. Both Caroline and Junie’s cars were in the lot next to the hearse as was the sole Mayville police cruiser.

  He knew Daisy needed time away from him. She’d be safe here. He stopped the car in front of the house on Pine Street.

  “Aren’t you coming in to search?”

  “Later. I’ve got some things to take care of. Take it easy this morning and watch your back.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  For what? For his half-assed, half-hearted proposal? For involving her in a quest that earned her a concussion? For ruining her reputation?

  “You’re welcome.”

  He watched her walk up the path. She really was a sprite. Nick tended to forget her short stature because of her big heart. His own ached. He felt that he’d lost something indescribably dear. He’d have to think about it later. It was time for a word with Arthur. He started the car.

  But when he arrived at Bowman Mansion Finch informed him the ladies were out and Arthur Sneed was still in bed. It was after nine.

  “Still in bed?”

  “I believe he got home rather late last night,” the butler said.

  “How late?”

  “I retired at one a.m.”

  Had he been out with the mystery woman? Or was the woman a beard to disguise his search for the blue diamond and his efforts to destroy Bowman’s Biscuits?

  Nick resisted the urge to haul the lawyer out of bed and settle this once and for all with his fists.

  ****

  Black and orange roses twined through the trellis arch at the bottom of the courtyard and vases of black cosmos decorated the stone seat of the Cupid Fountain. Tall sheaves of wheat replaced last week’s Renaissance banners in strategic locations around the courtyard.

  “Everything looks great,” Daisy said to her sisters.

  Junie stared at her. “Mon Dieu. You’re as white as a sheet, Daze. Did you see a ghost?”

  Caroline, busy setting up a table, glanced at the newcomer. “You’re upset about Chicago, aren’t you?”

  “Good gravy, Caro!” In her indignation, Junie forgot to use French. “Why’d you tell her now?”

  Daisy wanted more than anything to reassure them. The family break up was her problem, not theirs. “Not at all. I’m happy for both of you. I’m a little tired, that’s all.” The sound of voices interrupted them. An instant later the ladies from Bowman Mansion appeared at the side gate. Alice Bowman trundled the stone altar on a dolly.

  Judith Bowman reminded Daisy of a fruit salad. A voluminous watermelon-colored skirt and lemon yellow poet’s shirt were accented by a bold, lime-green sash at her waist. A grape-purple pentacle hung on a chain around her neck.

  Harmony Lime’s bright colors stood in contrast to Alice’s tailored black blouse and slacks. The younger woman’s dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. Dark glasses concealed the too-close eyes but Alice’s lips thinned in a grim line.

  Daisy’s heart ached for the woman and her imminent divorce.

  Isabelle wore an elegant black sheath with silver jewelry and a determined smile on her face. Daisy’s heart squeezed again. The happiness Isabelle had found in her brief marriage would evaporate if Arthur Sneed proved to be the murderer and the mastermind behind the demise of Bowman’s Biscuits. So much tragedy waiting to happen.

  “We’ll need the altar tonight for the memorial service,” Alice told Daisy, in a quiet voice. Daisy had forgotten Junie’s plans to honor Spuds Langston, a man she still considered her late boyfriend.

  “Of course,” she murmured. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No. We’ve got plenty of juniper berries and brooms.” She smiled at Daisy who smiled back.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “You’re not one hundred percent sold on Wicca.”

  “I’m more of a chauffeur-slash-witch-Friday,” Alice confided. “I don’t mind. It takes some of the pressure off Isabelle.”

  Daisy quelled the impulse to offer sympathy and friendship to Buzz’s wife. Alice’s sense of privacy was well-known in Mayville.

  Another group’s
arrival ended the short conversation. Daisy shook hands with a tall, silver-haired, middle-aged man with chiseled features and an attractive smile, and a plump woman with curly gray hair and lively, intelligent eyes. He wore a polo shirt and khakis, she, a lavender shirtwaist as if they were en route to luncheon at the county club.

  “I’m Sarah Glenn Sedgwick and this is my fiancé, Cedric Carrington.” Her musical voice turned tender. Daisy couldn’t keep the surprise out of her eyes and Sarah Glenn grinned. “Not what you were expecting, right?”

  “You just look so, uh…”

  “Normal?” Sarah Glenn chuckled.

  “Cedric’s a pro over at the Americana Golf Club in Rayburn.”

  It was hard to believe the golfer was also Grand Wizard of the Celestial Heavens Coven.

  Four more women appeared and Sarah Glenn introduced Prunella Wentworth, a short, squat forty-ish woman with long purple hair; Sigrid Cobble, tall, slender and blonde; and Penelope and Regina Watson, plump, fifty, indistinguishable from each other and dressed identically in eggplant pantsuits.

  “Penelope and Regina are twins,” Sarah Glenn explained, unnecessarily.

  “We’ve always been telepathic,” Regina explained, “so Wicca is a natural for us.”

  “And we love the jewelry,” her sister explained. She pulled back the edges of her straight, gray bob to reveal pentagram-shaped earrings.

  Daisy and Caroline were left alone when Junie took the guests to their rooms.

  “They’re a little weird,” Caroline commented, “but they seem harmless enough.”

  Daisy shook her head. “Not so weird. Wicca gives them community, spirituality and love. The same thing we all want.” She smiled at her sister. “I’m glad they’ve chosen us to help them celebrate.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A moment later Daisy and Caroline watched as a slim young woman wafted into the courtyard. Her waist-length, coal-black hair set off a pair of pale blue eyes in a heart-shaped face. Daisy suspected Junie would have described her as an old soul. Probably in atrocious French.

  “Welcome,” Daisy said, extending her hand.

  Slim fingers were pressed into hers.

  “I’m Hecate, the back-up priestess. I’ll be officiating at the Circle Meeting and the handfast.”

  Daisy nodded. “My younger sister appreciates your willingness to include the memorial send-off tonight.”

  “We’re pleased to do it,” Hecate said. “In fact, the twins have decided to honor their late Aunt Charlotte, too. We will draw down the moon and dispatch them all to Summerland in style.”

  “Was Aunt Charlotte a Wiccan, too?”

  “A Baptist missionary. But our philosophy is all-inclusive. After all, we are One in our spirituality.”

  Daisy suspected Aunt Charlotte and Spuds Langston had two things in common. They’d both been human and they were both dead. She kept the thought to herself.

  Junie called from the back door. “Daze! Miss Olive’s on the phone. She wants in on the Memorial Service.”

  Daisy looked at Hecate.

  “The more the merrier,” the acting high priestess said.

  Junie grinned. “Le mot juste. By the way, Miss Olive’s invited the entire congregation of the tuna church.”

  It seemed as if Spuds, Charlotte and Ora would have a nice crowd to see them off. This weekend the Gray Lady would be mortuary and wedding boutique combined as the guests and townspeople celebrated the circle of life.

  Daisy found comfort in the prospect but they would definitely need more cookies.

  ****

  Nick prowled through the desk drawers and cabinets in Pops’ study but he didn’t expect to find much and he wasn’t disappointed. If Arthur had sabotaged Bowman’s Biscuits, or killed Langston or attacked Daisy in the Gray Lady’s cellar last night, he hadn’t left any evidence around. But then he wouldn’t. The man was smart.

  Smart and tired. Nick vetoed his original idea of waking the guy. He couldn’t expect the man to confess to a verbal accusation. He needed proof.

  Despite the delay, Nick’s heart lightened as he drove away from Bowman Mansion and toward Happily Ever After. He realized that life seemed easier, brighter around Daisy. After the handfasting, he’d take another shot at the proposal. Meanwhile, there were other things to take care of. One of those involved the woman arranging potted plants on the front porch of the Gray Lady. Caroline was, for once, alone. It was as good a time as any to have this out.

  Her exquisite features twisted and the turquoise eyes blazed with hostility as he mounted the porch steps. “What do you want?”

  He kept his tone mild. “Why are you so angry at me?”

  Her eyes reminded him off a storm at sea.

  “I’m not angry. I just want you to leave Daisy alone.”

  “The way you’re planning to leave her alone?”

  “Our family is not your business, Nick. I know my sister is low-hanging fruit for a guy like you but she deserves better. Give her a break and back off.”

  The words stung.

  “I’m not out to hurt her.”

  Caroline’s sculpted lips twisted into a sneer. “You’ve already hurt her. Daisy’s not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t sleep with her in Chicago?” Caroline’s voice rose. “It’s just so typical of the Bowmans. Take what you can get and leave someone else to clean up the mess.”

  Her words triggered a bolt of pure fury and he grabbed her slim arm. “We’re not talking about Daisy here, are we? This is about you and me. What mess did I leave behind? We barely knew one another. If I hurt you seven years ago I’m sorry but you moved on. Why the bitterness now?”

  “You’re wrong.” She jerked her arm away from him and he let her go. “This is about Daisy. She seems self sufficient but she’s more vulnerable than you think. She deserves someone who wants to stick around, someone who loves her. Someone she can love. She deserves better than you, Nick Bowman.”

  He felt the words like a fist in the gut.

  “You’re probably right,” he told her, recklessly, “nevertheless I am what she’s getting. I’m going to marry Daisy.”

  Caroline swayed and he moved to catch her before she collapsed. He set her on the front porch glider. After a moment her long lashes lifted.

  “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  No. He felt a stab of pain.

  “That’s what she said. I’ll get you some water.”

  He ran into Daisy in the hallway.

  “Hey, Nick. The Wiccans are here. They’re nice people.”

  He noted the sparkle in her eyes and the dewy color in her face. She loved people and she loved her job. She hadn’t built Happily Ever After just for her sisters. He wanted to close his arms around her, to somehow preserve the happiness on her face. Caroline was right. Daisy deserved the best.

  “I tried to talk to Arthur but he’s asleep.”

  “What’s next?”

  “If you don’t need me I’m going out to Dollar Lake.”

  Her face lit up. “Are we going to break into Arthur’s house?”

  The twinkle in her lovely eyes lifted his heart.

  “Absolutely not.”

  ****

  Arthur Sneed’s sanctuary eight miles west of Mayville sat on the edge of a round body of water. The tall, thin house reflected both his physical characteristics and his personality. In the years before the rest of the lake property was developed, Arthur had enjoyed complete privacy. The recently added colonials, ranches and split-levels made the attorney’s house stand out like an awkward gosling in a basket of fluffy chicks.

  Behind the house was a narrow, dirt lane, a favorite spot of amorous teens. On Daisy’s sole trip to the lover’s lane, she and her date, Jimmy Crossfield, had played chess. She’d like a return visit, this time with Nick and no game board.

  Daisy leaned across him to get a good look at Arthur’s house. The hard musc
les of his thigh, his intoxicating scent and his masculine heat combined to stoke a fire in her and she remembered their adventure on I-94. Was he thinking about that? She sneaked a glance at his face and found his gaze pinpointed on the house but her disappointment disappeared when his shifting thigh drew her attention to his lap. Ah. On some level he was remembering, too.

  Nick parked behind a small grove of trees and they crossed a small field on foot to reach Arthur’s back door. Daisy’s heartbeat kicked into high gear.

  “Did you bring your key thingy?”

  He nodded.

  “We’re getting pretty good at this break-in business, aren’t we?”

  “Shush.”

  “Why? Do you think he’s here?”

  “No. He’s asleep at the mansion but I’d prefer not to draw any attention from the neighbors.”

  “Good point,” she whispered.

  She followed him up the back steps to a door six feet off the ground. Her nerves danced with anticipation about the break-in. Or being with Nick. Or both.

  He inserted the key but no satisfying click disrupted the clatter of katydids.

  “Fuck.”

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “He’s got a computerized lock on it. We’ll have to try a window.”

  They discovered all the windows were well off the ground. Under other circumstances, Daisy would have been impressed with the excellent security measures. She descended the steps and paced the backyard, surveying the basement windows.

  “I can get in there,” she said. “I’ll just break the glass.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  “You and I know someone killed Spuds Langston but the cops consider it an accident. That same someone broke into the Gray Lady last night. We have to do this, Nick. We have to identify this person before he hurts someone else.”

  She recognized the doubt in his eyes and the distaste. He didn’t want to violate the man’s property or his privacy. She loved him for that.

  “Get back,” He said. He took off his shirt, wrapped it around his fist and he hit one of the windows with a short, sharp, karate chop. The pane shattered. She started to climb in the window but he put out a hand to stop her.

  “I’ll meet you at the back door.”