“My turn!” squealed a barrel-chested man, swooping back his perfectly coifed sandy-blond hair. “I’m Justin Fargate. I know, my name sounds like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel.” He giggled, covering his mouth. “No, seriously. It’s really my name. Thank you, Mom.” He glanced at the ceiling.
“I’m a nurse anesthetist. Engaged.” Justin squeezed the knee of the cute Hepburn-ish brunette on the straight-back dining chair next to him. “Right now I’m reading…” He pulled a book out of his man-purse. “Emma. Love, love, love the movie version with Gwyneth.” Justin finger-quoted: “‘My idea of good company… is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation;’ Jane Austen.” He turned to his fiancée. “You’re up next, sweetie-poo.”
“I’m Chloe Sarantos. I work in human resources at the hospital and I’m engaged to this beautiful hunk of a man sitting next to me.” The blushing pixie cocked her head in Justin’s direction. “My favorite Jane Austen quote is, ‘The most beautiful thing in the world is a match well made.’” She sighed wistfully. “Justin and I are reading Emma together and playing out the parts. It’s so romantic.” She coyly peeked at Justin, and they covered their mouths, giggling.
Please, somebody shoot me now, I thought as a wave of ick rolled through me.
“Chloe’s the one who invited me,” Samantha whispered in my ear. “Don’t they make an adorable couple?”
“Yeah. Adorable.”
“I’m Debra Williams,” said the lady next to Samantha on the sofa. The striking golden-brown-skinned woman had a riot of gorgeous copper curls that I would kill for. “General practitioner. Widowed—”
“Ohhhh,” said Chloe and Justin, like this was news to them.
“—and first-time reader of Austen. I’m halfway through Mansfield Park. I just love it. You know, I’m ashamed to say all I used to read was Harlequin romances. But Jane Austen takes romance to a whole new level.”
I’d been eyeing the person next to Chloe. She reminded me of an old Saturday Night Live character—Pat, from back in the early 90’s. The one where you never were quite sure what her sex was. This person was chunky with a butchy brown hairdo, a fuzzy upper lip, and dressed like a Duluth Trading Company catalog model. “I guess it’s my turn,” she leaned forward, elbows resting on knees akimbo. “I’m Chris and I just finished Northanger Abbey last night. That’s all I got.”
Her voice was gruff, yet soft and feminine, so I decided to go with Christina, not Christopher.
The doorbell rang and Nora stood. “That must be Heather. She said she was running late.” She patted her perfect russet chignon as she scurried to the front door and ushered in, of all people, my ex’s child-bride and soon-to-be mother of triplets.
Sam clutched my arm. “Are you going to be all right?”
After my ex-husband’s cancer battle, he had decided to get in shape. Heather had been his twenty-two-year-old personal trainer. In her defense, Chad had neglected to tell her he was married when they hooked up.
“I’ll be fine.” I’ve gotten to know her a little, and she really is a sweet space case and completely clueless that Chad’s been hounding me to get back together. I screen my calls, but that doesn’t stop the endless texts, e-mails, voice mails, Facebook messages. I need to figure out how to block his calls on my cell phone. The jerk is even sending me mushy Hallmark cards.
“Hi, everybody,” said Heather. She flipped her strawberry-blond braids over her shoulders and set down a plate of cheese crisps on the coffee table. “Sorry I’m late. The bookstore was super busy.” Then she noticed me. “Katy! It’s super good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” I said, not sharing her enthusiasm.
She trundled her massive, perky pregnant self over to me, arms outstretched. “Give me a hug.”
I stood and hugged her. Awkward.
“This is so cool. Wow. You’re an Austen fan too. Chad never told me that.” Her eyes swept over the group. “Oops. Sorry, guys. I’m married to Katy’s ex.”
“How cozy,” said Justin, obviously relishing the weird dynamics.
I plunked into the corner of the sofa and Sam and Debra scooted over to make room for huge Heather.
All eyes were on me, so I figured it was my turn to speak. “I’m Katy McKenna. Divorced.”
Nervous titters.
I glanced at Heather and threw a mean dig. “And former co-owner of The Bookstore Bistro.”
She winced, and I immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I mean, it’s true, but it’s fine. Really. I got the house and he got the business and all good things must come to an end although it really wasn’t good, at least not in the end. Will somebody please shut me up?”
“What are you reading, Katy?” Nora held out a plate of fig and goat cheese canapés.
“Mmm. These look yummy.” I stuffed a canapé in my mouth to stall answering. “Umm, I’m reading Emma too.” I read it in my freshman year of high school, and I’ve seen every movie version since, so I figured I could fake it. “And I agree, Justin. Gwyneth was delightful as Emma, although I prefer the Masterpiece Classic 2009 version.”
“Oh yes, with Romola Garai.” Justin clapped gleefully like a little girl who’s just blown out her birthday candles. “She was awesome.”
I said to Sam. “You’re up next.”
“I’m Samantha Drummond. Maternity nurse and mother of two incredible children. Chelsea’s fifteen and a sophomore at Santa Lucia High School—”
“Girl, you do not look old enough to have a fifteen-year-old,” said Justin. “Just sayin’.”
Sam smiled, unconsciously fluffing her short blond hair. “She’s my husband’s daughter. Our boy, Casey, is four.”
“What’cha reading, Sam?” I said, certain she wasn’t reading anything.
She ignored me. “Nora, I must compliment you on this scrumptious tea.” She picked up her delicate china cup and made a big show of savoring the brew. “Mmm. What is it?”
“Yorkshire Gold,” said Nora. “I’ll send some home with you.”
“You still haven’t told us what you’re reading, Sam.” Then to everyone, I said, “Sam’s really too busy to read books, but she has subscriptions to People Magazine and Us. Maybe she could give us an update on the latest Hollywood buzz.” Sometimes I can be such a brat.
“Oooh.” Justin scooted to the edge of his seat. “What are the Kardashians up to?”
Sam focused her steely blues on me. “Actually, I just started a book last night. A book you lent me.”
I tried to recall what I’d loaned her. Must’ve been a while ago, because I was drawing a blank.
“What is it?” Chloe asked in a breathless tone, clutching Justin’s hand.
Sam dug her dagger elbow into my arm. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“Oh! Oh! Loved it.” Justin clapped again. “Christian gave me goosies.”
I wondered if they acted out that book too. No. Don’t go there.
“Well, I can see our group is going to be very interesting with you two in it,” said Nora. “Who’s in favor of ditching the tea and having a glass of wine?”
“Me!” said me.
After we all had glasses of wine, we settled back into our seats and Chloe said, “I know this is completely off the subject but remember at our last meeting when we were talking about that guy in Iowa who strangled his pregnant wife in front of their two little kids—just because she was too tired to go Christmas shopping? And then he only got two years because the jury thought he was too drunk at the time to realize what he was doing, even though the prosecution was able to prove he’d been abusing her for years? And then he gets out a few months ago, gets custody of the kids, even though the kids begged the judge to let them stay with their grandparents? Well…” She paused, dramatically glancing around the group.
“Oh! I read about that in the paper this morning,” I said. “He was found dead in the parking lot of a sleazy dive bar. Hit and run.”
“Well I say good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Debra. “Whoever killed that lowlife deserves a medal.”
“I agree.” Chris wiped cream cheese off her hairy lip. “If the courts can’t do their job, then at least someone did. I hope they never get caught.”
“Since we’re talking about losers,” said Melanie. “You all know I’ve never been a big fan of my brother-in-law, Travis. I know for a fact he’s been abusive to my sister, Lisa, numerous times. But she always forgives him. Says he can’t help it—which drives me bonkers. But she thinks she has to make the marriage work.” She shifted her gaze to Sam and me. “Because their twelve-year-old daughter, Jenny, has a serious kidney condition and needs a transplant.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” I said. “Is she on a list?”
“Yes, if she lives that long, but wait’ll you hear the next part of the story. The other day Lisa comes home after sitting for hours at dialysis with Jenny and finds Travis in bed with some bimbo. And Jenny saw them too.”
Chris snorted. “Please tell us she finally got the balls to file for divorce.”
Melanie nodded. “She has. And guess what he said he’s going to do? He’s changing the beneficiary on his life insurance to his girlfriend, and he’s canceling his daughter’s health insurance. Can you believe that?”
“He can’t do that, can he?” asked Samantha. “Isn’t there some law to protect her?”
“I don’t know. But get this. He told Lisa he’s moving to Acapulco with his floozy to open a tattoo parlor, so she can forget about alimony or—”
“What a creep,” shrieked Justin.
“—child support because he’s never really believed she’s his daughter. Let me tell you, that girl is his, and unfortunately, the poor kid has his Jay Leno chin.”
“What’s your sister going to do, Melanie?” Samantha asked. “Get a paternity test?”
“She can’t work because caring for Jenny is a full-time job, so she’s going to have to move in with us. Fortunately we have a big house, and I’m married to an understanding guy.” Melanie took a quick sip of wine. “As far as a paternity test—what good will it do if he’s already in Mexico? The whole thing’s a mess.”
“I understand divorce, but you don’t divorce your children too,” I said.
“It’s difficult to comprehend how people can get away with stuff like this,” said Debra. “You can’t call the cops because technically there’s been no crime, yet what he’s doing is so deplorable.”
“Bottom line, the man needs to be dead,” Chris said flatly. “You know you’re all thinkin’ the same thing. He’s a waste of air space, just like that guy Chloe was talking about. At least he got what he deserved.”
Chapter Six
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
WEDNESDAY • JUNE 19
Posted by Katy McKenna
“Hi, Katy,” said Mom this morning via the phone. “I just spoke to your sister, and she’s got her stuff packed and is ready for the move up here.”
Emily is my twenty-two-year-old flaky half sister. I love her, but we’re not close. By the time she was ten, I was nineteen and living in a dorm, doing my college thing, which didn’t include hanging out with ten-year-olds. In retrospect, I guess I was kind of a flake too. It’s not like she could have hopped in the car and cruised over for a visit.
In her sophomore year of college, she dropped out to pursue a career as the rapper LazyE. It was a very short-lived career. Now she’s decided to become a writer, so she’s moving home to mooch off the folks while she writes the next great American paranormal-fantasy-murder-mystery novel. Yeah.
“When’s the arrival?” I asked.
“Next week. Kurt’s driving down to help her.”
“So he has to close the shop to help her move?”
Pop owns Pop’s Fix-it Shop, located next door to Mom’s hair salon. Entering the quaint appliance repair shop is like stepping back about seventy-five years.
“She needs his truck to move her futon and dresser.” She sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have to give up my craft room. But it was either that or my dressing room. Obviously, I can’t do that. Not after all Kurt’s hard work.”
Both of those rooms were Mom’s dream rooms for the eventual day when her children were no longer, never-ever going to live at home again. When I got married, I hadn’t lived at home for several years so she felt safe turning my room into a dressing room. Pop built all the cabinets, and it looks like something you’d see on the Home and Garden TV channel.
After Emily’s rapper career tanked, my sister announced she would never live in our bourgeois hick town again, so then Mom got her craft room/guest room.
During my recent divorce, I moved into the crafty guest room until escrow closed on my house, and now Emily’s coming home. So my question is: Are you ever safe from your grown kids moving back in?
I have three bedrooms in my cozy bungalow—circa 1930s. The master, a guest room, and the third is an on-site storage facility that I intend to organize one of these days. I could offer the guest room, but there would go my swinging lifestyle. ;-)
Okay, nothing is currently swinging in the passion department, but there goes my privacy. I know I should offer, but I don’t want to. Then again, it would give me a chance to get to know my grown-up little sister.
Instead, I said, “But won’t it be fun having your little girl home again?”
Chapter Seven
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
TUESDAY • JUNE 25
Posted by Katy McKenna
“Hey, Ruby. What’s up?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. A few years ago, she began checking the obits every morning, and if anyone she was even remotely acquainted with has passed, she calls to share with me.
“I tell you it’s hell getting old. Beverly… you know Beverly, right?”
I put the phone on speakerphone while I finished buttering a slice of toast. “She’s the lady who played Sandy in the Shady Acres production of Grease, right?”
“Right. Well, the poor dear broke her hip last night.”
At least she’s not dead. “That’s a shame. How?” I unfolded the newspaper and glanced at the headlines while Ruby rattled on.
“She got up during the night to go to the bathroom and her diaper slipped down around her ankles and she tripped and—”
“Oh my God!”
“I know—”
“No, not that. I’m looking at the paper and Travis Baker died.”
“And I should know who Travis Baker is?”
I relayed Melanie Ramos’s story about her low-life brother-in-law.
Ruby snorted. “Sounds like he got exactly what he deserved if you ask me.”
Chapter Eight
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
WEDNESDAY • JUNE 26
Posted by Katy McKenna
Late last night, while watching an old Law and Order about a Marine with post-traumatic stress disorder, I realized that’s what I have. PTSD. I’ve been bumbling along, acting like nothing’s happened, but in reality I’m falling apart.
Here’s the short list of my life during the past couple of years:
First, my husband’s cancer battle.
Then his betrayal.
Divorce.
Nearly getting murdered a few months ago.
The police ride-along from hell.
Basically my life has been in turmoil, and I have been in total denial about the personal toll it has taken on me. Energized by my sudden epiphany, I poured another glass of wine and made a list to get my life back on track:
1. Throw out everything fattening and stock up on healthy food.
2. Join a fitness club.
3. Drink less wine. Starting tomorrow.
First thing today, I made a trip to Whole Foods and loaded up with organic veggies and fruit, healthy frozen vegetarian entrees, kale chips, and gummy vitamins.
Back home, I tossed out the cookies and taco chips, cleaned out the fridge, and finished the mint
chip ice cream. It felt great checking off item number one on my list.
1. Throw out everything fattening and stock up on healthy food.
Forever Fit’s cavernous lobby was filled with buff, good-looking people sipping coconut water in their cute spandex workout clothes. A blue-eyed, bubbly blond greeted me at the reception counter.
“Hi. Welcome to Forever Fit Health Spa. I’m Brittany. How may I help you?”
“I’m thinking about joining a gym, so I’m checking out a few before I make a decision.”
Brittany beamed. “Forever Fit is totally the best. When I joined, I was super overweight too.” She made a boohoo face and shivered at the ghastly memory. “And you’ll never guess what?” Brittany waited breathlessly.
“What?” Hold the phone. Did she just say I’m fat?
“We have a free trial membership.”
Free sounded good.
“Would you like a tour of the facility? Jarod can show you around.”
One look at stud-muffin Jarod and I was ready to sign up, but after the tour I was ready to move in. The indoor-outdoor, Grecian-inspired, Olympic-size saltwater pool with waterfalls and slides. The gourmet health food bistro. The spin-bike movie theater. The day spa retreat, the coffee and smoothie bar, the rainforest steam baths, the facial esthetician, the masseuse, the Himalayan rock-climbing wall, the zip line, the wine bar, and my favorite: toning beds you lie on and they work out your body while you snooze.
“I’m ready to sign up for my free membership, Jarod.”
“Don’t you want to see the exercise equipment, the aerobics room, the yoga studio, the squash courts, the weight-loss center, the—”
“Nah, I’m good. Feeling kind of tired from all this trudging around,” I said, feeling fat and fatigued. “This place is huge. You should think about installing an escalator. Maybe I’ll get a glass of wine and then take a look.”
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 30
