Of course, the church wouldn’t be at the same place as the reception hall. Holly’s face flushed as got out of the car and held the phone higher, ignoring the spatter of rain.
Still no signal.
Holly looked around her for a place that stood higher up, but she was already on the breast of a hill. Anywhere else would take her further out of range.
Giving up her phone as useless, Holly marched toward the church instead. Hopefully, somebody inside would be able to give her directions and get her on the way.
As Holly stepped into the dimness of the church, anxiety spiked through her bloodstream. Once upon a time, she’d loved weddings, enjoyed the thought of marriage. Since Simon announced he wanted a divorce, that feeling had turned to antipathy.
The reception hall would be fine—that was no more than a glorified house with a gigantic ballroom. Inside the church, with the light refracting into a spill of a thousand colors through the stained glass, it was a different story. As Holly walked up the center aisle, looking for someone who wasn’t a wedding guest, it brought back uncomfortable memories of her own ceremony. Bittersweet.
At least in the increasing gloom at the front of the small church, Holly’s tears couldn’t be seen. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and tilted her head up so more would be shed. Anybody in front of her had a view straight up her nose, but that was still preferable.
After walking all the way to the pulpit, Holly still hadn’t seen anybody who looked like they were attached to the church, rather than the wedding party. She headed for a door at the side. A sign read Private—that seemed a good bet. Holly tapped her knuckles on the door and stepped back to wait.
A shuffle of footsteps, then the door opened a sliver. “Who is that?”
Holly stepped to the side so the eye at the gap could see her. “My name is Holly Waterston. I’m one of the caterers for the reception, and I’m lost. Do you know how to get to Inglewood Manor?”
The door creaked open another inch to reveal a minister struggling to attach his collar. Holly blushed, feeling awkward, as though she’d caught him in a state of undress. Just before turning her head to the side, Holly caught a flash of a periwinkle blue shoe heading out of the room, exiting to the left-hand side.
“Sorry about this,” the minister said. “I’m just getting ready for the ceremony now. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be out and give you directions.”
“Thank you,” Holly said, desperate to avoid eye contact. She turned and heard the door close behind her as she took a seat to wait in the first pew.
The decorations in the church were fabulous. Whoever had organized them had a good eye for color and a flair for the dramatic. Metallic ribbons of silver and gold offset the glorious flowers, bunched in delicate posies at each end of the pews. Along the walls, a similar arrangement swept under the broad, stained-glass windows. Bold enough to accentuate them without being so garish that they fought to claim attention.
“Holly! What are you doing here?” Wendy called out.
Holly turned around to see the mother-of-the-bride hurrying toward her from the back of the church. She stood up and walked to meet her halfway. They hugged, each one cautious of the other’s outfit but still with genuine affection.
“Right now, I’m admiring the decorations. These bouquets of flowers are fantastic.”
Wendy colored with pleasure. “I have quite a garden at home, so I put those ones together. I’m glad you like them.” The smile suddenly dipped under a frown. “Shouldn’t you be over at Inglewood Manor? I’m sure that they’ve set aside a room for the cakes.”
“I got lost, I’m afraid,” Holly admitted. “I thought that I would just follow Crystal all the way out here, but I lost her at the first set of lights.
Wendy laughed, color rising in her cheeks again and her eyes glinting reflections from the multicolored windows. “You’ll have a ten-minute drive ahead of you then. Just give me a moment, and I’ll grab a map from my car.”
“Don’t worry,” Holly said. She jerked her head toward the door marked private. “I’ve already asked the minister to help, so I expect he’ll be through in a minute.”
Holly lowered her voice and ducked her head closer to Wendy’s ear. “I caught him out still getting ready, so I think the least I can do is still be here waiting for his explanation.”
Wendy raised a hand to her mouth and giggled behind it. “My goodness. That must’ve been a sight. Back in the day, Bobby Woodfield had quite the following. The most handsome boy in school.”
She winked, and Holly screwed her nose up and shook her head, realizing Wendy had taken her statement quite the wrong way. “Not undressed,” she said, hiding a giggled behind her hand, “just not quite ready.”
A man’s voice came from behind her, “Holly?”
Feeling like she’d been caught out doing something naughty, Holly turned, her hand still raised up to shield her mouth. Minister Woodfield stood behind her, this time in full ceremonial robes. His hands were gently clasped across his ample belly. The collar around his neck—now secured in place—was the same color as most of his thinning hair.
Handsome?
“Yes,” Holly said belatedly, nodding as she dropped her arm back to one side. “That’s me!”
“I’ll leave you in Bobby’s capable hands,” Wendy said, reaching one hand out to clasp Holly’s forearm for a brief second. “Thanks for everything. If it weren’t for you and Meggie, I think I would have had a breakdown by now.”
“Nonsense. Food and a new hairstyle can hardly compete with everything else you’ve organized.” Holly cast an appreciative glance around the church again. “Everything in here is absolutely divine. I hope that your daughter has a wonderful day.”
Wendy nodded with a smile that dissipated as she looked at the entrance where the rain was growing noticeably heavier. “I better get back to greeting people. Many of them have come such a long way.”
“I’ll catch up with you later, then.” Holly leaned forward to give her a quick air kiss—mindful of the makeup that Meggie had so artfully applied. “You’ve done a fantastic job. Don’t worry.”
As Wendy strode off with a smile toward the entrance, Holly turned and followed the minister to the pulpit.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a bit formal, but it’s the closest I have out here to a desk.”
Minister Woodfield leaned against it, drawing a quick diagram on the back of an old prayer sheet. “Here you go.” He handed the map over and pointed to a cross. “That’s where you are now, and”—his finger traced out a line back where Holly had come from and along a different turn in the road—“that’s where you need to be. It won’t take more than ten minutes, even in this weather.”
“Thank you very much,” Holly said, tucking the map into her handbag for safekeeping. “My sister will be frantic wondering where I’ve got to. My phone couldn’t get any bars at all outside.”
The minister shook his head. “No. It’s a dead spot as far as mobile phones go.” His face crinkled into concern. “I hope that everybody coming thought to arrange themselves taxis home beforehand if they’re going to drink. I hate to think what it’ll be like at the Manor if they’re all queueing up to use the one landline!”
“I’m sure the guests will sort it out eventually,” Holly said. Although she forced her voice to sound cheerful, the nostalgia for her wedding was back with a vengeance, once more bringing her close to tears.
“I suppose.” Minister Woodfield brightened. “If nothing else, it’ll turn into a fine anecdote in the future. That’s how all the best weddings end up!”
Holly laughed in surprise. “I suppose that’s true. I never heard of a couple whose marriage lasted the test of time who had a wedding run smoothly. All the long-timers seem to have horror stories hidden in there somewhere. The wedding dress that wasn’t ready. The caterers who served up meat at a vegan feast.”
When the minister laughed and nodded, Holly caught a flash of what Wendy had b
een referring to. The mix of joy plus a twinkle in the man’s eye made him look entirely different. Then the laughter faded away.
“I must be getting on.” Minister Woodfield turned and headed back to the private door. “I hope you’re not so late that Crystal gets worked up. Once she spins herself into a tizzy, it’s a hard road getting her untangled again.”
Chapter Two
Minister Woodfield passed through the door and closed it behind him before Holly recovered from the shock. The minister knew her sister? It was news to her. Still, given the amount of time Holly had spent away from home, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Crystal held a multitude of secrets.
Outside, the rain had taken hold in earnest. The early bird arrivals were starting to wilt, hairdos not up to withstanding the damp weather, despite the liberal application of hairspray.
As Holly moved through the throng of people crowding the entrance, she nodded and waved to everyone she recognized. After returning to town just a month before, it was crazy how many people she already knew well. The pace of life in Hanmer Springs may be slow compared to Christchurch, but the forming of community bonds was lightyears ahead.
As Holly drew level with her car, she saw an immediate problem. Other wedding guests had pulled into the parking lot behind her, effectively boxing her in. With a constant stream of traffic still flowing into the lot, Holly didn’t stand a chance of getting out until four people moved their vehicles.
Waiting under the eaves of the church entrance for a break in the shower, Holly started to ask if anyone knew the drivers of the cars in question. She soon had three of them rounded up, ready to go. The fourth, Aidan Heddle, was nowhere to be seen.
“I think he went around the back of the church,” Mrs. Hendrickson suggested at last. She was a work neighbor to Holly, owner of the Tavern that employed Ben who she and Crystal relied on for cover when they were both called away.
“What’s around there?”
“It’s an old graveyard.” Mrs. Hendrickson shook her head. “I don’t see the attraction of a boneyard myself, but Aidan likes to do tracings of the headstones.” She shrugged. “To each his own, I guess.”
“Thanks,” Holly said, smiling. “I’ll give that a try. I don’t imagine his drawings will be going too well in this weather, anyway.”
“No, they won’t.” Mrs. Hendrickson scowled up at the rainclouds as though they were a personal affront. “I can’t believe the day turned so quickly. I was looking forward to catching some sun before the reception. Sheila’s photos will be ruined.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Holly wasn’t, but without luck from the sky above, she wanted to wish some on poor Sheila. “At my wedding, we took most of the photographs indoors, and they looked really great.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hendrickson said with a pursed mouth. “Are you married?”
Holly retreated from the raised eyebrows and escaped around the side of the church. The white stucco covering some of the brickwork was dotted with green and black mildew. On a sunny day, it would have formed an interesting composition, pleasing to the eye. Today, it reinforced the state of increasing gloom.
As Holly rounded the bend, she saw two figures in the cemetery. One was a girl, in her teens or early twenties at a stretch. She was dressed in a purple and black outfit more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding. Dark eyeliner and mascara had been caught by the rain and ran in black tears down the side of her face.
The other figure was a man, a few yards away. He squatted in front of a gravestone with a piece of thin paper held up to it. Luckily, the grave he perched in front of was sheltered by a tall oak tree.
Holly tiptoed her way across the rough ground with care. She didn’t want her sensible heels to sink into the softening ground nor did she want to traipse across somebody’s grave. With arms out to either side for balance, Holly picked a careful path across the old cemetery.
Under the protection of the oak tree, she immediately saw why the man was squatting rather than kneeling. Hundreds of acorns were scattered, some husks, some green, all of them lying in wait for a bended knee.
Worse than Lego.
“Are you Aidan?” Holly asked. Although she spoke in a soft voice, the man was so wrapped up in his task that he jumped, his charcoal skidding in a thick stripe across the page.
“Sorry,” Holly apologized. She cast a quick glance in the direction of the teenage girl, who immediately looked away in the pretense she hadn’t been watching.
“I’m Aidan,” the man said, recovering and wiping his blackened hand on the front of his trousers before holding it out to shake.
“Oh,” Holly said, raising a hand up to her mouth.
The quick wipe had smeared charcoal marks across the light beige fabric. When the man looked down to see the cause of her exclamation, he shrugged and gave a small chuckle.
“My mom always said I couldn’t stay clean for five minutes.” He held his hand out again, and Holly shook it. The palm was dry and the shake firm—just the way she liked it.
“What did you want me for?”
“My car…” Holly trailed to a halt and looked down at the ground, swallowing. For some strange reason, she felt a bit giddy staring up into Aidan’s bright blue eyes.
“I parked here earlier, but I need to leave,” Holly managed after a pause.
“And I’m blocking your exit?” Aidan finished for her. When she nodded, he gave a wry smile. “Sounds like the kind of daft thing that I’d do.”
Aidan rolled up the paper into a thin tube and stuck it into a knapsack that he then swung over his shoulder. He started to walk but stopped when Holly didn’t fall into step beside him. She looked instead at the girl, her eyebrows raised.
“Isn’t she with you?” Holly mouthed, embarrassed to be talking about the teenager when she was standing only a few yards away.
Aidan turned and seemed shocked there was another person there.
“Joan! What are you doing standing out here in the rain?”
“It’s Elvira,” the teenager mumbled. “My name is Elvira now.”
“Is it?” Aidan sucked his cheeks in and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “I don’t remember that coming through the registrar’s office. Perhaps I was sick that day.”
“Mom hasn’t filed it yet.” The teenager bared her teeth in a snarl. “She’s been too sick lately. It’ll happen, though, and soon.”
“Lovely,” Aidan said, clapping his hands together. “I still don’t know why you’re standing outside when it’s pouring, Elvira. Wouldn’t you prefer to stand in the church?”
“No.” Elvira glared at him, an expression that morphed into something far more ferocious with her smeared eye makeup. “I want to stand outside. I’m a goth.” She sniffed. “Churches don’t agree with me.”
Holly felt a tad uneasy at the statement. That she’d experienced her own sense of discomfort inside the chapel entirely left her mind.
Aidan didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He clapped his hands together again. “Is your mom inside?” When Elvira shook her head. “How about my Auntie? I presume if Mary’s sick then Esmerelda brought you.”
Holly took a shocked step backward at the name, earning herself a reproachful glance from Elvira. Esmerelda was the name of the woman who’d tried to trick her into giving up her father’s recipes. At the memory of how easily she’d been duped, Holly’s cheeks grew red.
Elvira nodded. “Granny’s inside. She likes catching up on all the gossip. I’m staying out here until my friends arrive.” For the first time, the girl appeared uncertain. “They shouldn’t be too long.”
“Okay. Just so long as you know you’re welcome to change your mind,” Aidan said, turning back to the parking lot. “If you want later, I’ll take you home, and you can sulk there, rather than at the reception.”
The edge of rudeness to his words raised an appreciative smile from Elvira. “I might take you up on that.” Her smile widened as she added, “Granny would hate it!�
�
As Holly and Aidan walked away, Elvira took their place under the large oak tree. When Holly looked back from the entrance of the church, she saw the girl was shivering. The unfortunate thing looked like a drowned rat.
A second later, Elvira’s face lit up, and she raised a hand to wave. Two girls joined her under the tree, each dressed in a similar style. More goths. Holly wondered if they always gathered together in threes. It reminded her of witches. Then again, so did Esmerelda.
“So,” Aidan said as they walked closer to the cars. “You’ll be Holly Waterston, daughter of Brian Waterston, granddaughter of Edward Waterston, and great-granddaughter of Celia Waterston, right?”
Holly cocked an eye at him, an unsure smile playing across her lips. “Most people just call me Holly,” she teased. “But, yes, that’s my lineage.”
Aidan pointed back to the graveyard, on the opposite side to where the girls now stood in a huddle. “Your great-grandmother is buried back there, you know.”
Holly raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No, I didn’t know that. I assumed she was interred in the cemetery in town.”
She frowned, trying to remember if she’d ever paid a visit to Celia’s grave. Her memory was so active in her father’s stories and the history of the bakery that it felt like something Holly should have seen. After a moment, she shook her head. If it was, she couldn’t remember it.
“I’ll take you around and show you after I move my car out of the road.” Aidan smiled. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”
Urgency rose up in Holly’s chest, tightening like a band until she could barely breathe. “Goodness, yes. What’s the time?”
A silly question since there was a watch on her wrist that Holly was perfectly capable of looking at, but Aidan obliged with another smile. “It’s just past nine-thirty.”
“Oh, no.” In the emotion of walking into the church, Holly had somehow discarded her panic about the close time-frames. Now, they recurred at double impact, sending her heart racing, pitter-pat.
The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6 Page 16