by Laura Durham
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"I thought I saw the cute couple from the plane," he said. "The newlyweds."
"They're here?" I asked before remembering that Fern had given them our entire itinerary.
He shook his head. "When I ran outside I didn't see them. It must have been my imagination."
"That's too bad," Richard said, with not an ounce of sincerity. "I'm sure they'll turn up eventually the way things have been going."
"Richard's right," I said when I noticed that Fern's stunned expression had not changed. "Enjoy your dinner. If they're in Adare, I'm sure we'll run into them." I dropped my voice. "And I'm sure they'll talk all about their wedding."
"It's not that, Annabelle," Fern said, wringing his hands. "It's the rental car."
My gut tightened. "Please don't tell me we got a parking ticket."
"No." He shook his head slowly. "We didn't get a parking ticket, but you know how Kate didn't quite get the back bumper all the way into the parking space?"
Kate's head snapped up. "Did I hear my name?"
"Well, we don't need to worry about the bumper any more,” Fern said. “It's gone. Someone hit the car and crumpled the entire back half of it."
Chapter 6
"You must be out of your mind," Richard said the next morning when I found him at the top of the double staircase that led into the ballroom's grand foyer. He leaned against the intricate railings that swept down and around the marble stairs underneath the sparkling crystal chandelier.
"Because I asked for a replacement rental car?" I said, taking in the light streaming in the windows and doors leading out to the terrace overlooking the river. "It wasn't our fault that someone came around that corner too fast and plowed into the car and drove off dragging with our back bumper."
"Maybe not our fault." Richard said as Kate came around the corner, her heels tapping on the floor.
I gave him a warning look. "Do not start this again. Just because she parked a tiny bit over the line doesn't mean the car was fair game. Anyway, she wouldn't have been driving if . . ."
Richard held up his hands. "Fine."
"I'm glad I found you," Kate said, sliding her sunglasses down from where they'd been holding back her hair and taking a sip from her paper cup. "I had to ask a few people to point me in the direction of the new ballroom."
I detected the scent of coffee coming from her cup. "Where did you get that?"
She twitched one shoulder. "You know I have my ways."
I knew her ways often included eyelash batting and showing a little leg, but I wouldn't mind doing a bit of both for a proper cup of coffee.
"Glad you could join us," Richard said. "Fern didn't walk down with you?"
Kate shook her head. "He's stuck on a call with Leatrice." She grinned. "I think he's beginning to regret volunteering to plan her wedding."
"Maybe he's getting a fuller understanding of how hard our job is," I said, feeling more pleased than I'd have liked to admit that Leatrice was torturing him and not me.
"I doubt Leatrice is a typical bride," Kate said.
"Now there's the understatement of the century," Richard said, turning back to me. "What did the rental car company say when you told them about our little mishap?"
"I told them I'd send them the report from the Gardaí showing it wasn't our fault, but they still can't get us a replacement for a couple of days."
"The who-di?" Kate asked as she joined us.
"The Gardaí," I said. "The Irish police. You know, the guys in uniform who showed up last night."
Kate's eyes brightened. "Those cute boys in blue? I wouldn't mind seeing them again."
"Let's hope that's the last time we need to call them," I said. "And nobody mention our incident to the catering manager we're meeting with. I do not want to be known as the Americans who totaled their rental car within the first twenty-four hours."
Kate put a hand over her mouth as she yawned. "We couldn't get a later appointment? My body thinks it's still nighttime."
"We're supposed to head to Dromoland Castle this afternoon," I said. "Anyway, it's good for us to try to reset our body clocks as quickly as possible."
"How are we supposed to get to Dromoland Castle without a car?" Richard asked, putting his hands on his hips.
"We could always commandeer some sheep to ride," Kate said. "Ireland has lots of sheep."
"Yes," Richard drawled. "Sheep back is definitely the solution."
A petite woman with blond hair walked briskly across the hall with an armful of folders emblazoned with a swirly gold "A." Her black suit was perfectly pressed, and she wore a pearl necklace and matching earrings. I looked down at my white button-down and black pants that still held a few wrinkles from the trip and wished I'd gotten up early enough to iron them.
She extended her hand and smiled widely. "You must be the planners for Halsey Kelly. I'm Sarah." Her Irish accent was soft with just a hint of a sing-song lilt.
"I'm Annabelle and this is Kate," I said, taking her hand. "With Wedding Belles. I'm the one you've been speaking with."
"And I'm Richard Gerard." Richard sniffed and held out his hand. "I'm the culinary consultant for the wedding."
Sarah's eyebrows flickered, and I felt reasonably confident she'd never had a client bring in their own culinary consultant before.
"We're delighted the Ryans are considering Adare Manor for their wedding." Sarah began leading us down the stairs. "As you can see, our grand ballroom has a separate entrance which makes it convenient and more private."
We followed her down the stairs and into the foyer, which featured more ivory marble, high French doors, and crystal chandeliers. I held the bannister for balance as I took photos with my phone.
"Guests can enjoy cocktails in the foyer and music on our baby grand piano." She swept a hand to indicate the polished black piano. "Then they proceed into the ballroom for dinner."
She opened one of the doors on one side of the foyer and we all stepped into the ballroom. I bent my neck to look up at the high ceiling with inset alcoves painted in gold foil that ran down the length of the long room. More glittering chandeliers hung from each alcove, and the room seemed to glow when Sarah turned them on. More French doors spanned the length of the far wall and taupe drapes hung from floor to ceiling, held back with tassels. Instead of the brightly patterned carpet I was accustomed to in hotels, the floor was blond wood in a parquet pattern.
"It's beautiful," I said, taking out my phone and snapping a few more photos for the bride.
Sarah handed us each an Adare Manor folder as we walked back to the foyer. "I've included rate information and sample menus, although we prefer to customize everything for each bride and groom."
Richard opened his folder and began flipping through it. "I'm assuming we can upgrade everything."
Before Sarah could answer, there was a loud tapping at one of the French door behind us.
Kate lowered her sunglasses. "Is that . . .?"
I felt like slapping a hand over my eyes. "It's Fern." I rushed over to the doors, explaining over my shoulder. "He's our other colleague who was delayed because of a conference call with a client."
I knew it was a stretch to call Leatrice a client or his conversation with her a conference call, but that sounded better than saying our hairstylist friend was gabbing with my nutty neighbor. I unlatched the door and pulled it open.
"I found you," Fern rushed in, breathless. "I've been searching high and low."
"Didn't Kate tell you we'd be in the grand ballroom?" I asked, trying to retain my even-keeled voice.
Fern tapped a finger on his chin and tilted his head. "That sounds vaguely familiar, but I was too distracted by Leatrice. You wouldn't believe what she wants for her wedding."
Before he could launch into what I could only assume would be a flood of unnecessary details, I cleared my throat. "Fern, this is Sarah. She's the hotel's wedding and event coordinator."
Fern swung his eyes over to
her and gave her an appreciative nod as he held out his fingertips. "Did you do that French twist yourself, sweetie? It's divine."
Sarah touched a hand to her hair. "Why, yes."
Fern put a hand on her arm. "It must be so exciting to plan weddings in such a historic manor house."
"I suppose it is," she said, clearly a bit flustered by his compliments and attention.
"Tell me all about the ghosts," Fern said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "A house this old must be haunted."
I tugged Fern away from her. "I'm so sorry. Ignore him."
"What?" Fern said. "The genealogy ladies were talking about ghosts last night at our end of the table."
"Not at Adare Manor I hope," Sarah said with a small gasp.
"Sadly, no." Fern frowned. "They said we'd have better luck at some of the other castles we're visiting."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "What do you mean 'we?'”
"Are you with the other American group?" Sarah asked.
"No," Kate and I both said so forcefully she took a step back.
"Just because we took them up on their offer of a ride back to the hotel last night does not mean we're now part of their group," Richard said, waving a finger at Fern.
"But that's what I came to tell you," Fern bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "We don't need to worry about getting a new rental car or about Richard driving us around and almost running off the road."
Richard opened his mouth and let out a small sound of indignant protest.
"The ladies have officially invited us to join them in their minibus," Fern said. "Isn't that wonderful? They said there's plenty of room and they even agreed to adjust to our timeline. Apparently we were heading to most of the same spots anyway. As long as we're okay with a few extra tea and bathroom breaks." He gave me a look. "Not everyone can be a camel like you, Annabelle."
"You must be insane if you think I'm going to spend the next week riding around in a tour bus," Richard said.
"It's not technically a tour bus," Fern said. "It's a private charter and you know it only seats fifteen. It's not like I'm suggesting we hop on a Greyhound."
Richard put the back of his hand to his forehead. "I'm feeling a bit faint."
I put a hand under his elbow, knowing what the mention of public transportation usually did to him.
"It does solve our problem," Kate said.
I bit the edge of my bottom lip, knowing she was right. I wasn't crazy about being cooped up in a van with virtual strangers, but I also knew we only had a few days to knock out all the venues on our list. Our client would not care about excuses, even very good ones.
"And you rejected my suggestion about going on sheep back," Kate said with a grin.
Fern looked from me to Kate. "Is that really a thing?"
Sarah's head ping-ponged between us as she tried to follow the conversation, and her mouth had dropped open at the mention of sheep back travel.
Richard fanned his face with both hands. "A mini-bus? You know I don't do mini-anything. No mini-malls, no mini-fridges, no mini-buses." He dropped his voice. "I don't even do Mini-Coopers."
"Do you want to explain to Senator Kelly why we had to eliminate venues from his daughter's list?" I asked Richard.
He glared at me before throwing his hands into the air. "Fine. We'll share the bus with the old ladies."
"One thing." Fern held up a finger. "You can't call them 'old ladies.' The correct term is 'chronologically enhanced.'"
"Heaven preserve us," Richard said, looking up at the ceiling.
“Over here we like to say two people shorten the road,” Sarah said in an obvious attempt to be helpful.
Fern clapped his hands. "This is going to be so much fun."
Richard stomped off and Fern followed after him.
Kate turned to Sarah and me. "I feel like the saying might not apply to those two people."
Chapter 7
I stumbled down the short flight of stairs from the mini-bus to the pavement, grateful to be at Dromoland Castle. Even though the trip from Adare Manor should have taken less than an hour, we'd gotten bogged down in traffic through the city of Limerick and then we'd stopped at Bunratty Castle as a combination bathroom break and cultural stop. What I'd assumed would be a short stop to peer up at the medieval castle had morphed into a full exploration of the recreated 19th century Irish village nearby. I'd eventually had to drag Fern from the gift shop before he could buy up every last tea towel in stock.
"Now this looks like a castle," Kate said stepping down next to me and running a hand through her hair.
The gray stone castle featured both round and square turrets soaring up from the corners of the building; there was a lake to one side, and a long curving drive leading to the front door of the castle. Like at Adare Manor, ivy crawled up some of the castellated walls.
"Every building looks like a castle in Ireland." Richard came off of the bus behind us, his eyes flicking up to the impressive structure. "I feel like I've seen enough castles in the past two days to do me for a lifetime."
"We just got here," Kate said, "and we've only been to two venues. We'll barely scratch the surface of castles here."
"Don't remind me." Richard hiked his duffel bag high on his shoulder. "It's bad enough I had to listen to show tunes the entire way, but if we're going to stop at every castle with the gift shop in the country, we're never going to make it back to DC."
"It wasn't the singing that got to me," I said, rubbing my head. "It was the perfume. Every one of those ladies is wearing a different scent."
"And the redheaded hippy is wearing patchouli," Richard said, crinkling his nose to let me know exactly what he thought of that.
"You can't beat the fresh air in the Irish countryside," Kate said as she took a deep breath of the cool air. "I wouldn't mind living here. Maybe we should consider a Wedding Belles branch in Ireland, Annabelle."
"First things first," I said. "We have to prove we can successfully plan a wedding here before we open up an office."
Kate flapped a hand at me. "Details, details. Just think of it, Annabelle. A market where no one knows about all the unfortunate incidents at our weddings."
By "unfortunate incidents" I knew Kate meant the number of dead bodies that had happened to turn up at our weddings over the years. Luckily there were still plenty of brides in DC who'd never heard we'd become experts in wedding day crime solving, but I couldn't deny that the murders hadn't been great for business.
"Except for all the people in the minibus," Richard said, giving her a stern look. "You and Fern told them everything."
"Not everything," Kate said. "Just the highlights. Anyway, these ladies don't live in Ireland. They're spread all over the US. It's not like we want to start planning weddings in Iowa or South Dakota."
"The driver is from Ireland," Richard said. "You didn't notice Seamus's shocked expression when you talked about finding the body impaled on the ice sculpture?"
Kate shifted from one high-heeled boot to the other. "No, I didn't know he was listening."
Richard narrowed his eyes at her. "The bus only holds fifteen people, Kate. I've been in larger bathrooms. Of course he heard every word. I just hope he doesn't think we're dangerous Americans bringing crime with us."
"Who, us?" Kate said. "Who could ever think we're dangerous?"
Fern came down off the bus his arms laden with shopping bags. "Did you hear they have archery here? I can't wait to learn to shoot like Robin Hood."
"Now that's deadly. Keep me far away from Fern with a bow and arrow," said Richard, with a furtive glance toward the disembarking retirees. "If you don't mind I'm going to run inside and get our room keys before Myrna beats me to it."
Richard hurried toward the entrance, his Gucci bag bouncing behind him.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of cut grass and flowers. We must not be far from the walled gardens I'd read about. I hoped they would be the perfect location for our bride's wedd
ing ceremony, and I couldn't wait to see them. I felt my phone vibrate in my bag and pulled it out, glancing at the name on the screen and letting out a small groan.
Kate looked over my shoulder. "At least it isn't a bride. I mean, a bride who's hired us."
"Hi, Leatrice," I said when I answered. "Everything okay in the building?"
I heard a deep sigh on the other end. "The building is fine, dear. I still think the new couple from the second floor seem suspicious. He says he works for the Treasury department, but you know what that means."
Probably that he worked for the Treasury department, I thought, but didn't say anything. Leatrice saw a conspiracy theory around every corner and had been known to run her own surveillance ops on various neighbors.
"How is Hermes?" I asked, hearing a faint yip in the background.
"Oh, we're having a grand old time," Leatrice said. "You know how he loves watching old movies."
I knew how much Leatrice loved watching old movies, and I suspected Richard's Yorkie loved napping next to her while she did so.
"It's not Hermès that's the problem," Leatrice said.
"There's a problem?" I took a few steps away from Fern and Kate as the rest of the ladies spilled out of the bus.
"I don't like to complain." Another long breath. "But Fern is driving me crazy."
"What?" I wasn't used to people driving Leatrice crazy. Usually it was the other way around.
“You know I adore him," Leatrice said, her words coming out in a rush. "It's the wedding planning. He's going a bit overboard, and I don't know how to rein him in."
"What do you mean by overboard?" I'd had clients want everything from cakes shaped like squirrels to gnomes as a reception decor, so there wasn't much that could surprise me.
"I didn't mind the idea of Hermes being the ring bearer," Leatrice said. "Or of him wearing a tiny tuxedo. But I'm not sure if murder should be the theme of the wedding."
"Fern wants you to have a murder themed wedding?" I glanced behind me to where my hairstylist friend was giggling and laughing with a pair of white-haired ladies.
