“Um, I have it on good authority that this isn’t the cut Olivia wants.”
Bev frowned and return the gown to the rack.
Bullet dodged.
“Okay. How about this?” She held up a frothy number with lace sleeves and a wide velvet sash. It was vaguely reminiscent of Duchess Kate Middleton’s wedding dress, as many of the dresses these days seemed to be. I cocked my head and studied the dress. With the wide, almost cummerbund-like sash, it could work.
“What’re you waiting for?” Rachel egged me on as I disappeared into the dressing room.
Minutes later I stepped out, my heart thumping. Wearing the dress was much like being enveloped by a clingy boa constrictor. And it wasn’t the fit. The dress would probably not need many alterations should Olivia’s family decide it was the one. But the fleeting vision I caught of myself in the triptych mirror almost made me gasp. I’d just declared a mere six months ago to Garrett that I wasn’t sure I was the marrying type. It took the threat of him leaving to start to change my mind.
“Wow. You look amazing.” Rachel took a slow circle around me on the raised dais. “You should put this gown on hold. For later.” She waggled her eyebrows and broke the spell of my concern. I burst out laughing.
“It’s nice.” Goldie was noncommittal.
“It’s not the one.” Clementine twisted a green tip of her spiky hair. “It’s pretty. But that dress is wearing you, my dear, not the other way around.” She nodded to herself. “Olivia will have more presence.”
I smirked as I shimmied out of the gown. I hadn’t ever been able to imagine wedding gown shopping for myself. But now I could imagine my own mother’s unfiltered comments and broke out into a grin.
On and on the farce went. I tried on every gown that would give Olivia a fighting chance of hiding the beginnings of a bump.
I predicted Bev’s last choice would be the winner and hoped the women would like it. It was a silvery-white gown, done in a heavy, winter floral-patterned brocade with cap sleeves. The slightly raised waist was very subtle, accented with a single row of silver sequins. It seemed like a sleek design choice rather than a tool for camouflage. I almost teared up in the dressing room picturing Olivia in the dress.
And if I’m being honest, myself. With Garrett beside me.
I pushed away a single bead of moisture from each corner of my eyes and pushed open the door. The peanut gallery was silent.
Finally Goldie spoke. “That’s the one.” She seemed to study the forgiving waistline a nanosecond too long.
Even Clementine had to grudgingly agree. “Yes, this one will do.”
Bev nodded, rendered silent for once. She plucked a simple veil from a display and affixed it at the bottom of my messy bun of sandy curls.
Rachel stopped taking pictures and stared at me in thought.
The pretty trill of silver bells affixed to the front door of the store announced a new arrival. Garrett strode in, swinging my citrine pendant as he whistled and made his way into the shop.
Our eyes met, and time stood still.
“Mallory.” Garrett’s voice was husky and serious. He strode across the room, no longer swinging the pendant. He stood before me and swallowed. There was a strange look in his hazel eyes. It was a mix of love and wonderment, nervousness and indecision.
No, I was just reading too much into this silly situation.
Projecting is more like it.
But he refused to break the spell. He gently fumbled with the delicate clasp of the pendant and tenderly affixed it around my neck. He leaned in until his lips were a millimeter from my ear.
“I’ve been thinking of this moment. Maybe I’m making a mistake even considering Pittsburgh.” He pulled back and looked me in the eye, but still spoke softly enough that only I could hear. “Maybe we need to speed this up.”
I stepped out of his heavy orbit, stumbling over the too-long hem of the gorgeous gown. I tumbled down, but Garrett caught me. He pulled me in for a smoldering kiss, not caring who was witnessing it. Goldie, Clementine, and Rachel cheered.
“Oh, thank God.” Truman’s voice boomed through the shop. Garrett and I parted, and I felt a hot blush climb up my neck to stain my cheeks.
Garrett laughed, a delightfully silvery sound. He kissed my cheek and tenderly rubbed his thumb over the edge of my face. “I’ve got to go. See you later, my love.”
He left with the silver bells chiming. I stepped down from the dais and grabbed the nearest flute of champagne Bev had poured for Clementine and downed it in one frantic gulp.
“So he’s staying in Port Quincy. Good work, Mallory.” Truman clapped me on the back a little too hard, and a spray of champagne flew out.
“Watch it! This is the dress we’re getting for Olivia.” I hurried into the dressing room, the spell officially broken. I shimmied out of the gown and tucked it safely into Bev’s arms for Goldie and Clementine to purchase. But Truman wasn’t letting me off the hook.
“So this gambit isn’t about you and my son?” The jowls in his face fell as Rachel filled him in.
“Nope,” I confirmed. “I was trying on dresses for Olivia.”
“Dammit.” Truman thumped his fist against a case filled with pretty crystal tiaras and baubles. The jewelry jumped, and he sheepishly took away his hand. “I don’t want my son moving to Pittsburgh, Mallory. Or Summer, for that matter.” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s poop or get off the pot time for you two, I’m afraid.”
Rachel started to laugh, but it was no laughing matter for me. The subtle holiday string music piped into Bev’s store seemed to fade away with a rush of blood to my head. I heard the pounding of a far-off ocean in my ears. I gulped and fingered the necklace Garrett had so tenderly returned.
I regretted insisting that we keep our relationship so casual, slow, and steady last spring. I’d lamely assumed time would march on unchanged and that we could safely reside in the gentle rut we’d carved out for ourselves. But now I wanted more.
Maybe marriage is for me.
I didn’t just want the pageantry of a well-planned wedding, just as I always wanted much more for the brides and grooms I helped to wed. I took for granted Garrett’s permanence. I wanted love, family, and a declaration. A promise between two people, and with his daughter Summer, three people. I was ready to take the leap.
And I felt the undeniable urge to hyperventilate.
“Don’t worry, Mallory.” Truman watched me cycle through a complicated set of emotions. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I have a plan.”
* * *
Garrett’s sort-of declaration was as close to a proposal as I’d ever had.
Um, except for your actual proposal from Keith.
Oops. I’d just conveniently blocked my entire relationship with Keith Pierce from my brain. A twist of fate had brought me to Port Quincy. I’d inherited Thistle Park from Keith’s grandmother, Sylvia, after she amended her will. Keith had turned out to be a cheating creep, but Sylvia was amazing. Her bequest had kicked off my new career and my new life here.
I couldn’t help but think Olivia would be happy in my adopted hometown, too. I figured she would grow to love Port Quincy just as much as I had. That is, if she still had a chance to move here.
I drove the Butterscotch Monster four blocks east and cut the engine behind the Bloomery flower shop. Toby lived in the loft apartment above, and I knew Olivia had retired there this afternoon to remotely be at her boss’s beck and call.
“I heard from Mom and Grandma that you found the dress!” Olivia met me at the door with a big grin. Her infectious excitement almost distracted me from seeing the dark circles under her eyes. Still, she also had a pregnant glow. She ushered me into the living room of the spacious apartment, with its river view of the roiling Monongahela beyond.
“Thanks for trying on the dresses, Mallory.” Toby rose to greet me as well. He removed the garment bag with the magnificent dress and carefully slung it over a dining room chair. “I did hear through the grapevin
e before Olivia filled me in that you were spotted trying on dresses for yourself.”
“It figures,” I grumbled. “I wonder who else in town believes that rumor?”
Olivia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And what if they do?”
I wondered dimly if I’d been had. Though Olivia’s wedding was only a few weeks away, we didn’t need to find her a dress today. Maybe my best friend had nudged me along to a realization I didn’t even know I needed to have.
Olivia sank onto the plush eggplant-colored velvet couch and gestured for me to sit down. “I made a pot of chamomile tea, and there are some shortbread cookies, too.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “My OB said now that I’m nearing the end of the first trimester, I should be getting a burst of energy.” Her long lashes fluttered open. “So where is it? I need it now!”
Toby sat next to his bride and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You work too hard, Liv.” He was concerned, without a bit of censure in his tone.
“I’ll agree for once.” Olivia sighed. “I don’t even want that darn partnership anymore. Some whippersnapper associate caught me napping at my desk yesterday. They’re going to figure out I’m pregnant and maybe try to delay making me partner.”
I felt my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “They can’t do that. That’s gender and pregnancy discrimination.”
Olivia gave a bitter laugh. “Think back, Mallory, to when you were at the firm. They’ve done it before.”
I wracked my brain and realized it was true. There had been several women over the years who were pregnant while they were senior associates and had their partnerships unofficially delayed until the firm could judge how productive they’d be when they returned to work.
“You really wanted to join Garrett’s practice.” Toby rubbed Olivia’s back.
“She still can,” I blurted out. “He hasn’t made a decision yet.”
The couple blinked at the fierceness of my tone.
“I just want you to be safe and happy, Liv. And this little peanut, too.” He gazed fondly at his fiancée. “A two-hour commute is nuts.”
“Well, even if Garrett does end up taking the offer to run the clinic…” Olivia carefully avoided my gaze, “I would’ve thought my parents would be ecstatic to have me finally join the family real estate development business as their in-house counsel.” She looked at me, bewilderment clouding her eyes. “But you heard him, Mallory. My dad doesn’t want me working for March Homes.”
It had been odd. Alan would rather his daughter stay in a situation he knew no longer made her happy than join the family fold.
“At least he doesn’t know I’m pregnant.” Olivia smiled at her secret. “We’ll let everyone know the day we return from our honeymoon.”
“Mmm, I don’t know about that. Your mom was studying the cuts of the gowns I said you’d like. She may have cottoned on.”
“No way.” Olivia batted away my concerns and stood. “I want to see the dress!”
I carefully unzipped the silvery brocade concoction and held it aloft in front of Olivia.
“Ooh, it’s lovely.” She ran her slender fingers over the raised brocade pattern of holly and vines, the delicate silver thread a subtle contrast to the diamond-white fabric. “I’ll go try it on!”
She disappeared into the bedroom for a few minutes, then reappeared with tears in her eyes.
“It’s magnificent.”
The gown looked lovely on Olivia, but different than when I’d tried it on. She spun around in a slow circle, catching sight of herself in the large mirror hanging over the couch.
“What’s wrong, Liv?” Toby noticed first that Olivia’s tears weren’t exactly happy.
“This dress is so pretty. But it’s not me. I think we all made a mistake, my family and I, bickering over where I’m going to work and live, and what dress I’m going to wear.” She took a deep breath. “I want to thank you for literally going dress shopping for me, Mallory. But I should wear the family dress.”
My heart melted at the sentiment, and I crossed the room to envelope my friend in a hug.
“I’m going to call my mother.”
I listened on in amusement as Olivia discussed her change of heart. I could hear Clementine’s forceful voice join the call as well. Olivia finally set her phone down and outlined her plan.
“My parents and Clementine are still working downtown.” Her lips turned up in a knowing smile. “Talk about workaholics. But Rudy is at the cabin. Grandpa likes to leave each day at five, no matter what.” Her gaze grew wistful. “I’d like to try on the family dress, tonight. Then we can get started on finding a seamstress willing to cut it down in time for the twenty-third.”
“It sounds like a plan.”
Ten minutes later, I left Toby’s loft downtown with a beaming bride. We wended our way west of town and down the long, forest drive to the cabin. But this time, the night sky wasn’t pitch black. There was an eerie glow.
“Please hurry, Mallory.” Olivia frowned and strained the length of her seatbelt peering out through the front windshield. The air filtering through the car began to smell of smoke.
“Oh, dear God.”
We’d finally reached the clearing where the resplendent cabin rose from the ground. The entire left side was engulfed in flames. A massive pillar of smoke billowed overhead. Though it was a wooden structure, it was burning more than seemed natural. The whole edifice would be gone soon, incinerated like a cheap pile of tinder.
I saw in the glow of the fire a pretty iridescent sheen in the puddles before the house.
Gasoline.
This was no accident.
“Grandpa Rudy!” Olivia scrabbled to get out of the station wagon, but I held her back.
“No, it’s not safe. I’m sorry, Olivia.” I spluttered out my warning and held fast to my friend’s hand. She wriggled out of my grasp and made her way to the glowing cabin.
The front door flung open, and out crawled Rudy. I couldn’t help even in this bizarre and tragic situation to reflect on the fact he could be Santa’s doppelgänger. Soot streaked his rosy red cheeks, as if he’d just alighted down a chimney to tuck some toys under a tree. His formerly snowy beard was caked with the stuff. He stood on shaky knees, a big bear of a man, and tumbled down the half flight of front steps.
Olivia and I grabbed Rudy under his arms and dragged him thirty feet away from the cabin, which now resembled a live coal more than a residence. Sirens wailed in the distance. We stared in mute horror at the night sky, lit up in shades of orange, red, and yellow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“He’s going to be all right.” Truman’s words about Rudy March, resident Father Christmas, were a welcome contrast to when he’d announced Lacey’s death. A weak ray of early morning sunshine escaped through a blanket of leaden clouds and seemed to illuminate Truman.
I felt a ripple of relief ricochet around the front hall. My mother, sister, and stepfather embraced at hearing the good news. I knew none of us had slept much. It had been a late night, filled with worry and fear.
I’d watched Olivia board a wailing ambulance with Rudy on a stretcher. The bearded man had an oxygen mask pressed to his face as the doors had clanged closed. The fire marshal arrived next on the scene and roughly pulled me to my feet.
“You need to get out of here, now.” His voice brooked no wiggle room. I’d shaken off my fear and run to the Butterscotch Monster. I’d reversed down the drive. A glance at the rearview mirror showed me the look of horror and fascination etched upon my features. A safe fifty feet from the burning structure, I’d turned my station wagon around to make my way down the narrow path to civilization. A sickening whoosh resounded behind me, and I turned to see the entire grand cabin collapse in on itself. As I floored it out of there, I felt the heat chase me in a gust. I worried about the Butterscotch Monster’s retro-wooden panels and tan paint job, then doubled up with hysterical laughter. I was so shaken; I was concerned with my car’s aesthetics instead of the close call
I’d nearly been in. I’d made it out of the woods on the narrow path just as three more fire trucks blared their way through.
I shuddered now in the calm peacefulness of the front hall, recalling an evening I wouldn’t soon forget.
“All of the Marches are at the hospital.” Truman glanced at me. “They wanted to know if they could move into your B and B.” He took in my shocked face. “Temporarily, of course.”
I recovered and slowly nodded. “Yes! They’re all welcome here.”
It would be unexpected, but not an imposition. And after all they’d been through, the March family needed some hospitality extended their way. Their castle of a cabin had gone up in flames, and they’d just broken ground on their new housing developments. I was sure Olivia’s parents and grandmother would feel more at home at Thistle Park than at the hotels located downtown.
“I’ll make our morning coffee.” My mother was downright cool in her interaction with Truman. I couldn’t blame her after the grilling she’d received from the chief. Still, she walked around a free woman, with no suspicion currently hanging over her. At least that I was aware of.
Truman waited until my family left for the kitchen.
“In here.” He held open the door to my office and ushered me inside.
“I want to know what you saw.”
I recounted Olivia’s decision to wear the famed March wedding gown after all. “Goldie and Clementine suggested she head over to the cabin to try it on.”
Truman twisted up his face in thought. “They said this while they were still working downtown?”
It was a bit odd. They’d pushed Olivia to go get the dress right then, instead of waiting until all the March women were assembled to ooh and aah. I shrugged. “They knew Rudy was supposed to be there.”
Truman made some notes. “I know Olivia’s version of events. Now let’s hear yours.”
I wearily recounted holding my friend back from plunging into the fire. Truman nodded when I told of Rudy crawling from the door and tumbling down the stairs.
Marry Christmas Murder Page 11
