by Laura Durham
Caroline shuddered. “Too Christmasy.”
“But the entire theme of the wedding is holiday inspired,” Buster said as he took the seat next to Mack.
Caroline made a face. “I know. I should have looked over things sooner, but work has been insane. I’d really rather the wedding not have anything to do with the holidays.”
Darla sucked in her breath. “Does that mean you don’t want the Dickens-style carolers for cocktail hour?”
“You’re joking, right?” the bride asked.
Darla’s cheeks reddened, but I put my hand over hers before she could reply. “It’s not the end of the world to cancel the carolers. We can keep it classic with a string quartet.”
“I’d rather play some acid jazz from my iPod playlist,” Caroline said.
Debbie almost slipped off the stool. “Acid jazz?”
“No problem,” I said. “Just send me that playlist, and I’ll find a jazz group that can play it.”
Mack scribbled in the proposal. “So if we remove the ivy and berries, the bouquets are just roses and mini callas.”
“But not the roses and not the white mini callas,” Caroline said. “Can you get the ones that are dark purple?”
Mack didn’t look up. “Just dark purple mini callas?”
“Caroline, honey,” Darla said, taking a sip of her nonalcoholic cappuccino and cringing. “You can’t have your girls walking down the aisle with black flowers.”
“They’re not black,” Caroline said. “They’re dark purple.”
“To-may-to, to-mah-to,” Darla said to me in a stage whisper.
“I have no doubt Buster and Mack will come up with something stunning,” I said, partly to appease the bride and partly to quiet the mother of the groom. Even though Darla was technically my client and was writing all the checks, I couldn’t in good conscience let the bride be steamrolled into a wedding she hated. “Why don’t we compromise and have the ceremony feature the dark callas and keep the more seasonal floral designs we’ve already planned for the reception?”
“I was hoping to have succulents instead of flowers in the middle of the tables,” Caroline said.
Nothing said love like a bunch of cactus, I thought as I noticed Darla pale.
“Succulents?” Buster asked. “Why didn’t you say succulents in the first place? We’ve been on such a succulent kick lately.”
Mack bobbed his head up and down. “It’s true.”
“Instead of cactus centerpieces, what about a baby succulent at the top of every guests’ place?” I said to Caroline. “Do you like that idea?”
“That could work,” Caroline said.
Kate leaned close to Darla. “You know tequila comes from a succulent.”
Darla’s eyes widened. “You don’t say? Maybe we should add a tequila bar to the wedding.”
“I think we’re good with two gin-and-tonic stations as well as two main bars already,” I said. I did not want a rehash of the wedding we’d done where we’d had a tequila fountain instead of a champagne fountain and guests had had to be carried out.
“If you say so,” Debbie said. “But I do love a good margarita.”
I felt my phone buzz and slipped it out of my pants pocket without looking down. “So are we all set for changes then?”
All three women nodded as they stood and gathered their things, but Caroline pulled me close as her future mother-in-law and sister-in-law teetered off ahead. “I’m telling you now, if I see so much as one holly berry or scrap of velvet ribbon at my wedding, I will walk out.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she released my arm and strode off, the only one of the three who looked like she wasn’t about to topple over.
“She’s not what I expected,” Kate said once the bride was on the sidewalk.
“You didn’t expect a blond version of the Grinch?” Buster asked.
Mack threw his pen on the table. “I’m going to have to do an entirely new floral order and have it rushed. The only good thing is no one else will be buying up all the cacti in December.”
I looked down at my phone display. “This isn’t good.”
“I think disaster is the word you’re looking for,” Buster said.
“What?” Kate asked, noticing my expression and looking over my shoulder.
“It’s from Richard,” I said, reading from the screen, “SOS. Bring diapers.”
Kate put an hand on my shoulder. “I think you may need to move, Annabelle.”
Chapter 4
“We came as quickly as we could,” I said as I pushed open the door to my apartment, a plastic grocery bag filled with diapers swinging from my wrist. “After a quick stop for supplies.”
Buster and Mack hurried past me holding their own grocery bags, but stopped a few feet inside to take in the scene in my apartment.
“It’s worse than we imagined,” Kate whispered, coming up behind me.
I wasn’t sure if it was worse, but it was definitely stranger.
Reese stood in the middle of the living room wearing nothing but his jeans, holding the baby—no longer wrapped in a blanket—to his chest. My downstairs neighbor Leatrice was perched on the edge of the couch strumming a ukulele and humming what sounded like the theme to Hawaii Five-O. Her sweater had a giant reindeer face and a light-up red nose blinking off and on, which went well with the antler headband holding back her jet-black, flipped-up hair.
I could see Richard’s head through the opening between my living room and kitchen and could tell he stood at the stove. What on earth was he cooking at a time like this? It smelled like he was curdling cream.
Reese’s shoulders relaxed when he saw us. “You’re back.”
Buster and Mack clustered around Reese as they inspected the sleeping baby. She had on nothing but a tiny diaper and was splayed across Reese’s chest as he swayed from side to side.
I dropped my bag of disposable diapers on the floor. “Is everything okay? Richard’s text sounded panicked.”
Reese raised one eyebrow. “Well it would, wouldn’t it? It is Richard after all.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, taking off my coat as I realized my heater was going full blast. “Why are you half naked?”
“Leave the man alone,” Kate said as she looked my boyfriend up and down, smiling and nodding. “He clearly had a reason for embracing his inner caveman, and I, for one, think we should encourage it.”
I elbowed her, and she yelped.
Leatrice stopped strumming her ukulele and popped up. “Skin-to-skin contact calms the baby. We tried a lot of other things before this finally worked.”
“A lot,” Reese said, his left eye twitching as he spoke.
“When did you get here?” I asked Leatrice. “I thought you were babysitting Hermes.”
“I was, but Richard texted me to come up and help.” She looked around the floor. “Hermes is here somewhere.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “He might be pouting. He’s a little jealous of the baby.”
The baby whimpered, and Leatrice quickly strummed a chord. “She doesn’t like it when I stop.” She sat back down on the couch and resumed her slow, plodding version of Hawaii Five-O, the chords only slightly connected to the melody.
“I didn’t know she played the ukulele,” Kate said.
I rubbed my temples. “I don’t think she does.”
“In here,” Richard called out in a loud whisper from the kitchen and waved a wooden spoon.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Reese as I headed to my kitchen.
Richard stood at the stove wearing a Santa apron—a gift from Leatrice I thought I’d hidden well in the back of a drawer—and stirring something in a copper double boiler, while Hermes was curled in the corner with his back to him. The Yorkie’s tiny black-and-brown ears were tilted back, so he could listen to what was going on even if he was pretending to ignore it.
I put a hand over my nose. “Is this really the time to be cooking? And what in heaven’s name is that? It smells like
curdled milk.”
Richard put a hand on his hip. “I’ll have you know I’m heating up formula.”
“In a double boiler? I didn’t even know I had a double boiler.”
Richard narrowed his eyes at me. “I gave it to you two Christmases ago.” He waved a hand at the shiny pot with two handles. “It’s top-of-the-line copper and an excellent heat conductor.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re warming up formula in it,” I said, stepping closer and getting a stronger whiff of the strange smell. “I thought you were supposed to put the bottle in a pan of boiling water.”
Richard glanced at the double boiler, then looked at me, then looked back at the bubbling formula. “Well how was I supposed to know that? I’ve never taken care of a baby before. All I know is that your boyfriend asked me to warm up the formula.”
I leaned over the simmering contents and noticed a skin forming on top. “How long have you been boiling it?”
“About fifteen minutes. It has to be sterilized, darling,” Richard said, giving me an exasperated look.
“The bottles need to be sterilized, Richard. Not the formula itself.” I put a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
Richard stared down at the bubbling formula. “Oh. I take it we can’t give this to the little crying machine?”
I put a hand on his arm. “Probably not.”
“Well, that’s just great.” Richard threw his spoon on the stovetop, and drops of formula splattered onto the counter. “Not only did I spend the last hour listening to a wailing child and a crazy old woman singing television theme songs, but my dog isn’t speaking to me and my dish is ruined.”
I squeezed his arm. “I think it’s very sweet you tried to make her formula.”
Richard crossed his arms and turned away. I couldn’t help noticing how similar he and Hermes looked as they both faced the wall and pouted.
“If it makes you feel better,” I said, “I think Buster and Mack will be taking Merry with them.”
Richard twisted around, his mouth turning up at the corners. “They will? Are they all leaving now?” He pushed past me. “Well, I’d better say goodbye to the little angel.”
I bent down. “Come on Hermes. I know you’re listening to every word I say, and I’m pretty sure you understand me.” His head turned toward me ever so slightly. “The baby is leaving.”
He jumped up, gave a small yip, and scampered past me, his jeweled collar jingling as he ran.
I followed Richard and Hermes back into the living room and tried not to gape or scream. Not only was Reese shirtless, so were Buster and Mack.
“What happened?” I asked Kate, sidling up to her. “I was only in the kitchen for a few minutes.”
“I can’t really say.” Kate looked shell-shocked. “It all happened so fast.”
I’d never seen the biker florists without several layers of leather, and I’d never imagined them being so hairy, especially since neither had a hair on their heads. “I don’t suppose those are sweaters?”
Kate shook her head with her lips pressed together. “I’m afraid not.”
The men appeared to be taking turns holding the baby to their skin as Leatrice played the theme to The Love Boat and sang the words in a high-pitched, off-key warble. I noticed that Reese had stepped away and reached for his blue flannel shirt.
He walked over to me as he slipped it on and began buttoning it. “I hope your meeting went well.” I caught the subtext loud and clear. I owed him big time.
“It did,” I said. “I mean, the bride changed the entire wedding and threatened to walk out if it is even remotely holiday themed, but aside from that it was great.”
He gave me a confused look.
“Thank you again for everything today.” I slipped a hand inside his shirt and around his waist. “And thank you for not killing Richard several times over.”
He kissed the top of my head and pulled me close. “You’re very welcome. It might be one of my greatest achievements to date.”
I swatted at him. “Was he that bad?”
“I’ll give him credit for trying, but he’s really never been within fifty feet of a baby, has he?” Reese laughed. “Once we convinced him you could not swaddle a baby like you fold a pocket square and sent him to the kitchen, things were much smoother.”
“Did I hear my name?” Richard joined us, his black leather body bag slung across his chest and Hermes sitting happily inside, his eyes barely peeking above the flap.
“I was just saying how you and I were partners in crime today,” Reese said, thumping Richard on the back and sending him forward a few feet.
Richard steadied himself and straightened his shoulders. “I always say it’s about teamwork.”
I’d never heard Richard say anything close to that, but I chose not to point it out.
“Well, I’d better hit the road,” Kate said, glancing at the clock on my wall. “I have a hot date tonight, and I’m going to try to get him to take me somewhere near the H Street Corridor.”
“Any particular reason?” Reese asked. Until the past few years, Northeast DC wasn’t someplace you actively sought out for great restaurants.
“We were brainstorming people who might have had a reason to leave their baby at the Born Again Biker Church, and we thought that maybe it was someone who worked at one of the new restaurants in the area.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re getting mixed up in another investigation.”
“Yes,” Reese said looking down at me. “Please don’t tell me.”
“This is hardly an investigation,” I said. “It’s not like there’s a crime or a victim or any danger involved.”
“All those are debatable,” Reese muttered.
Kate hiked her black-and-white-striped Kate Spade purse over her shoulder. “Compared to all the murder investigations we’ve poked our noses into, this is a cakewalk.”
I shot her a look. “Thanks.”
“Give me one good reason for trying to track down the person who abandoned this baby,” Richard said.
I shrugged. “If you’re fine with babysitting, we won’t bother.”
Richard’s face went slack. “What do you mean?”
I cast a glance behind me at the two burly, shirtless men cooing at the baby. “If you think they’re going to give up this child, then you haven’t been paying attention. If we don’t locate the parents, we’re all going to be spending a lot more time with baby Merry.”
“Count me in,” Richard said. “I’m up for whatever it takes to find out who this baby belongs to.”
Hermes yipped. Clearly he didn’t like sharing the spotlight with anything that was cute and demanding, either.
Reese pinched the bridge of his nose. “I still say this should go through social services.” His eyes rested on the baby, and he blinked a few times in quick succession. “But I’ve also seen how broken the foster system is, and I don’t like the thought of her going into that.”
Kate nudged me. “Mr. Law and Order is actually a big softie.”
“If there isn’t any more life-changing drama for today,” Richard said, opening my door and pointing a finger at me and Kate, “I’ll see you both tomorrow at the OWP holiday party.”
I smacked a hand to my forehead. I signed us up for the Organization of Wedding Planners holiday party so long ago it had slipped my mind that it was this week. “I forgot all about that. Wait, why are you going?”
“I got roped into catering it, remember?” He gave me a pointed look, and I felt my face warm as it dawned on me that I’d been the one to do the roping. “Don’t worry, darlings, after today a room filled with inebriated wedding planners will be nothing.”
Kate and I exchanged a look. Somehow I doubted that.
Chapter 5
The glass elevator pinged open, and Kate and I stepped out in front of the National Cathedral. The massive Gothic building rose above us with its three main towers jutting pointed spires over three hundred fe
et into the air. The main entrance held three arched doorways adorned with intricate stone carvings and a stained glass rose window above the central arch.
Even though I couldn’t see them from my vantage point, I knew the cathedral boasted gargoyles in the image of bishops, yuppies, and even Darth Vader. Flying buttresses extended off the sides like carved stone tent poles securing the sanctuary to the ground. The cathedral’s ivory limestone reflected the light and made the building almost blinding in the midday sun, its silhouette stark against the clear blue sky.
Kate slipped on her oversized sunglasses while I raised a hand to shield my eyes as I pulled my green angora scarf closer to my neck. It was sunny but cold, with a biting wind whipping down the long stretch of Wisconsin Avenue and making me shiver.
“I can’t get used to the idea of having parties inside a church,” Kate said as we followed the sidewalk past some bare-limbed trees.
I grasped the handrail as we went up the short flight of steps leading to the front door. “Correction, a cathedral.”
“Either way,” Kate said, “it feels odd to get soused at church.”
I glanced at my wrist even though I wore no watch. “Who says we’re going to get soused? It’s lunchtime.”
The glass double doors stood open, and a pair of women smiled at us from inside the church foyer. Kate lowered her voice. “It’s still a holiday party. You know how those get.”
We stepped inside and said hello to the greeters who directed us to a table with name tags in the shape of wreaths. I unwrapped my scarf and attached the name tag to my red-and-black-plaid dress, feeling grateful the tags used magnets instead of pins that leave holes in fabric.
“Speaking of cocktails, how was your date?” I asked her. “Did you hit the H Street Corridor?”
“We ended up at the oyster bar in Union Market, but it’s not too far from H Street.” She picked up the wreath name tag with her name on it. “I have to tell you, Annabelle, there are so many new restaurants and businesses in northeast, it would be nearly impossible to sift through all the employees.”