Engaged in Trouble (Enchanted Events Book 1)

by Jenny B. Jones

  Evan heaved a sigh as Sasha rushed into his arms. “Paisley, I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”

  Chapter Five

  “The witching hour begins at noon today.” Henry handed me a coffee as soon as I entered his office the next morning.

  I inhaled the comforting scent and took my first sip. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”

  “Sasha Chandler. She has a twelve o’clock appointment for her cake tasting. The Measuring Cup Bakery brings samples daily, so our brides can taste-test here. ”

  “Two days in a row with the WBE. Are you sure you’re not trying to run me off?”

  “The town is abuzz after your throwdown with Evan Holbrook yesterday.”

  “Discussion. We merely had a discussion.” A very loud one. In which I did all the talking.

  “The newspaper’s already called for a statement, so back off on the public meltdowns during working hours, okay? This place was like granny’s scary basement before I arrived, and I don’t want to see a reverse transformation. Am I clear? This is a business, not The Jerry Springer Show.”

  “Yes, sir. And I found out today is Alice’s birthday, so do something nice for her.”

  Henry scrunched his nose. “Like what?”

  “I’ll email you some ideas, Mr. Crabby.”

  “I’m not jumping out of a cake.”

  “And for that she’s probably grateful.” I plucked a glass bottle of champagne from my bag and set it on his desk. “Here’s my idea. We offer a coffee service until noon, then champagne ’til closing. What do you think?” My red fingernail tapped the label. “It’s even locally sourced.”

  Henry nodded slowly. “The idea has potential. We can do a trial period. But let’s get back to Sasha Chandler.”

  “Maybe some Sugar Creek label champagne will help her disposition.” Or a lobotomy. Whatever. “Good luck to the poor soul who deals with her today.”

  He sat down at his computer and tapped at his keyboard. “That would be you.”

  I sputtered on a swallow of coffee. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do,” he said. “She’s our only cake tasting today, and I want you to see how it works. Cupcakes representing the cake choices are delivered by ten each day. You’ll need to review your notes about this topic, of course.”

  “I don’t want to brag, but I know cake.” Mostly the eating of it. “Let someone else take this.”

  Henry raised one dark eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because she’s my ex-fiancé’s fiancée. Something you no doubt knew.”

  “Maybe.” He brushed a piece of lint from his charcoal pants. “Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. I have a twelve o’clock with a senator’s daughter, Layla’s out sick, and everyone else has appointments. It’s all you.”

  I rested my forehead on the desk. “I should fire you.”

  “Uh-huh.” He chuckled. “I dare you to try it. By the way, I’ll have you a desk here by the end of the day. We’ll share the office.”

  “Can we put a couch in here for twice-daily naps? Maybe a lava lamp or two?” At my suggestion of a jumbo TV and popcorn machine, he walked out.

  The next few hours passed with my shadowing Henry. He gave me a crash course on our payment plans and the latest trends in wedding themes, then updated me on local venues. I watched him defuse a powder keg of a momma not getting her way, deal with two suppliers who were late on shipments, then give one of our employees a talking-to for being repeatedly late. Though his tone could be a little harsh, the man had business skill coming out his every pore. Meanwhile, I was saturated with information and completely overwhelmed. This was a lot harder than learning a melody and shaking my tush behind Jaz on stage. Not that tush-shaking didn’t have its challenges.

  “Okay, you’re up,” Henry said as twelve o’clock neared. “The Dragon Bride’s in the parlor room.”

  “Henry—”

  “You tend to Sasha today, and I’ll make sure it’s the last time. You’re taking one for the team, and your staff knows it.”

  “Fine. But I’d feel better going in with a garlic necklace or holy water.”

  The parlor was a cozy room with antique dining chairs around a few white tables. Pale sage walls hosted framed vintage bridal prints, and white chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Violin music softly played, and the air smelled of sugar and dreams.

  When I walked in, Sasha Chandler sat in one of those chairs.

  I approached her like a woman given the task of routing a bear from its cave. “Good afternoon, Sasha.”

  She looked up, and I expected hate to flare from her pretty brown eyes and venom to spew from her lips.

  But she simply said, “Hello.”

  I set a bottle of champagne on her table and began to ease out the cork. “So . . . I’m sorry for the scene with Evan yesterday. I can’t stand your fiancé, but I want you to know that it won’t affect the service you’ll receive at Enchanted Events.” I poured her a flute full of bubbly and recited the words Henry had written out for me to memorize. “You’ll still get the same top-notch care from the staff here, and—” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t continue with the drivel. “Look, I’m just gonna go grab the cupcakes, okay?”

  She mutely nodded before picking up her champagne. Her hand shook slightly as she lifted it to her lips and drank. The entire thing.

  I hesitantly refilled her glass. “Um, Miss Chandler, is everything okay?”

  She swiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Just go get the cake.”

  I returned a short while later with a plate of cupcakes and gave her the spiel I’d been coached to say. “The Measuring Cup Bakery has prepared a selection of five cake samples for you today. We have the white cake with a layer of strawberry—”

  “First of all, stay away from Evan.” Sasha’s voice snapped with fierce warning. “Never speak to him again. And second, leave this bottle.” She tapped the champagne. “I think I can handle tasting cake without your hovering.”

  “Oh.” What a peach this one was. She and Evan deserved each other.

  “You would never have made Evan happy, you know.” She poured her own glass this time. “You never had what he wanted.”

  I froze at the door and slowly turned. “I guess that’s something I’m eternally grateful for.”

  “Really?” Her face pulled in mock-pity. “Seems like losing Evan was the beginning of the end for you. You never really recovered, did you?”

  Who did Sasha Chandler think she was? “I’m just here to help you pick a cake flavor. If you’d like to verbally assault someone, maybe you could try another business.”

  “Stay away from Evan. Do you understand me?”

  “Gladly.”

  “And furthermore, I want to work with someone else today—not you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but my employees are busy with other clients.” I hoped she caught the little detail that this was my business.

  “Unacceptable.”

  Sasha reminded me of my bandmate Jaz—how she enunciated each word with confident disdain. “I know this is not the most comfortable situation,” I said, “but I think we can be adult about it, right? I bring you cupcakes, you eat them and make a decision, and I stay out of your way. Sound good?”

  “No. It does not.” She stood up, a good four inches taller than I was in heels. “I am not paying all this money to Enchanted Events to be subjected to my fiancé’s throwaway girlfriend.”

  I tried to deflect the barbed wire prick of her words, but it hit the mark anyway. “Evan was my fiancé, not just my boyfriend. And if you want to marry a spineless man who lacks any shred of integrity, have at it. As for me, I’m grateful I dodged the bullet of becoming his wife, so don’t think I’ll be serving you jealousy with those cake samples. Now, are you ready to begin?”

  Her shiny lips parted in outrage, Sasha bore her brown eyes into mine, as if trying to melt me with her ire. “Go. Get. Henry.” She pointed toward the door. “Now.”

 
“If you think that I’m going to—” I clamped my mouth shut on the rest of my words. What I wanted to do was kick Sasha out, but that probably wasn’t best for a business I desperately needed to succeed. I set my jaw. “I’ll relay your wishes to Henry.” My legs couldn’t carry me fast enough to the door.

  “I told you, leave the champagne.”

  I slammed the bottle down on the table and all but ran out of the room before the Dragon Bride could fling another insult. My feet barely stopped moving when I collided into Alice in the hall.

  A wide-eyed Alice clutched my shoulders and eyed me like a bomb seconds away from detonation. “Everything okay in there?”

  “No, it’s not.” I jerked my head toward the parlor. “Sasha Chandler is awful.”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation. You know the customer is always right, don’t you?”

  “Well, she’s all wrong for me. Either someone else can deal with her, or I want her out.”

  “The Chandler account is huge—maybe the biggest event we’ve ever had. We can’t afford to lose it.”

  As peaceful instrumental music played overhead, I took three cleansing breaths. Serenity now. Serenity now. “Can you take over?”

  “It’s simple cake samples, Miss Sutton.”

  “I’m aware of that, but—”

  “I have two back-to-back appointments already. You can talk to Henry or the other girls, but we’re all swamped.” She patted my arm. “You can do this.”

  I could, but should I have to?

  I next sought out Mary, who was midappointment and did not appreciate my even suggesting she step in for me. My last hope was Henry, who handed a tissue to a crying mother-of-the-bride before glaring at my interruption.

  “What is it?” His smile faded as he pulled me aside.

  “Sasha Chandler is evil.”

  “We know this. It’s why we have prayer meeting before all her appointments. Now go back in there.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Paisley, dealing with difficult brides is part of the job.”

  I knew I sounded pitiful and childish. “She’s incredibly rude and mean—trying to rile me up about Evan.”

  “I see it wasn’t very hard.”

  “You honestly expect me to take abuse from a client?”

  “When her last name is Chandler? Yes.” He held up a hand in greeting to a couple walking in the door, then fixed his impatient gaze back on me. “Go outside and cool off. Walk around the building a few times. Take a few moments to collect yourself, then go back in there and get it over with.”

  “I’m never working with her again, Henry.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “And I wasn’t invited to any prayer meeting.”

  “Then you’d better have one on your own.” He pushed me toward the back exit and left to greet his next clients.

  The hall echoed with my heels hitting the floor in angry stomps. That woman! That arrogant, shrew of a woman. Who was she to talk to me like that? The way she treated people was deplorable. How had she survived high school without being stuffed in a locker?

  Two laps around the block simply wasn’t enough, but I didn’t want to sweat through my jacket—so I gave up speed-walking and sat in a lawn chair behind the building. I contemplated clouds until I no longer had steam coming out my ears like a runaway locomotive.

  After a quick breathing exercise a former manager had taught me, I walked back to the front and through the main entrance of Enchanted Events. Taking the long way back to the parlor, I made a detour through the shop and greeted a few brides. I had a lovely conversation with a teary-eyed grandmother who had the honor of being her granddaughter’s matron of honor, then assisted another customer as they picked out napkins for an engagement party.

  Finally, I returned to the parlor.

  Where I found the bride facedown in her icing.

  “Sasha?”

  Rushing to her, I stopped short, nearly tripping over a champagne bottle. Something was horribly wrong. Blood covered her temple, her hair. “Sasha!” My brain struggled to comprehend the scene. “Stay with me. Come on.” I fumbled beneath her hair ’til I felt her neck, searching for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  “Someone help us!” I yelled. “Call 911! Henry!” What should I do? CPR? Did I dare move her?

  I whispered a prayer for help. For divine intervention. For the girl to open her eyes, draw a deep breath, and say something cutting and cruel.

  “Paisley, what in the—” Henry rushed into the room, his whole body jerking to a halt as he took in the chaotic scene. “What’s happened?”

  I lifted my hands from Sasha’s neck, my fingers covered in her crimson blood and met his frightened gaze. “Henry”—black spots danced before my eyes as the room tilted—“I think we just lost a bride.”

  Chapter Six

  I stood with the Enchanted Events staff in a bewildered huddle as the coroner drove away hours later. My stomach lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my feet, I could barely swallow the thick panic. Though now clean, my hands tingled as if Sasha’s blood still covered my fingers. Shaking my head, I tried to dislodge the images in my mind of her battered face.

  A tall, lanky officer used his spindly arms to pull yellow tape across the door of the parlor.

  “Miss Sutton?” Police Chief O’Hara, still the same portly walrus he’d been during my childhood, slipped his phone in his pocket and ambled toward me. “We’re going to have to talk to everyone here.”

  “Okay.” My head bobbed with excessive nodding. “Anything you need.”

  “Who was the last person to see Sasha Chandler before this unfortunate event?”

  All eyes went to me. “I was.” Why had I taken that extended break outside? Maybe if I’d just done my job like a grown-up, none of this would’ve happened.

  A navy-suited officer appeared at O’Hara’s elbow and whispered painfully long sentences near his ear. Chief O’Hara nodded once, ran a hand over his wooly mustache, then pivoted back to me. “I’d like to offer you a ride in my patrol car to the police station.”

  My eyes went round as wedding bands. “Why?”

  “I think we might have a lot to talk about.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said weakly.

  “Then let’s discuss it.”

  I followed Chief O’Hara outside, the cheery glow of the sun an insult to our somber scene. “I could just take my car and meet you there,” I suggested.

  “And let me miss my chance to ride with a pop star?” He opened the back door to his Dodge, looking none too impressed. “Hop in.”

  “Can’t I at least sit in the front?”

  “Against policy.”

  “Am I being charged with something?”

  He waited ’til I was tucked into the backseat. “Not yet.”

  The ride couldn’t have been more than a couple of miles, but it took an eternity. Officer O’Hara did little talking, instead taking calls on his phone and sending me pointed glances in his rearview, as if fearing I’d lower my window and make a wild leap.

  The metal building that housed the police department sat at the edge of town, an eyesore compared to the Victorian charm of downtown and someplace I never thought I’d need to visit.

  Chief O’Hara pulled into a parking spot marked with his name, shut off the car with what I thought was a little too much gusto, then opened my door. “Out you go.”

  This was like going to the principal’s office—something I had lots of experience with—yet so much worse.

  I followed him inside the building, and the outer office buzzed like a beehive.

  “Come with me.” O’Hara led me down a dark hall, then pulled open a door to a small room. “Let’s step in here.”

  “Is this the interrogation room?” I sat down in a metal chair at a small table, pushing away a mop and bucket for some space.

  “Yeah, except we’re pretty tight on space, so it’s also where we keep our cleaning sup
plies and toilet paper.”

  I inhaled Pine-Sol and bleach, the clean scents not the least bit of comfort.

  Chief leaned back in his chair across from me and folded his arms over his ample stomach. “Tell me what happened from the time you greeted Sasha Chandler to the moment you found her nonresponsive.”

  Alarm shimmered across my skin. “I swear she was alive when I left her alone.”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Sasha was escorted into the parlor—the room where we do things like cake testing.”

  “By you?”

  “No.” I licked my lips and worried it was a guilty-looking move. “By Alice, I think. I’m not sure.” Someone needed to turn the thermostat down. It was burning up in here. “I greeted Sasha, then—”

  “And did she seem well? Upset? Bothered?”

  “She seemed . . . distracted initially. Then she lit into me about Evan, her fiancé.”

  “Because he’s your ex-fiancé, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  He jotted notes down in a laptop. “Continue.”

  “Sasha got very rude.”

  “So she said things that made you mad.”

  “Yes.” Oh, geez. “I mean, no!” This was going about as well as my last solo album. “I mean, what she said bothered me.” I filled him in on Sasha’s exact words. “I tried to brush it off and told her we needed to simply move along with her cake testing. That’s when she asked me to go get Henry.”

  “And you did?”

  “I tried, but he was too busy to help her. Everyone was. Henry told me to go cool off outside.”

  “Go cool off in ninety-three degree temps? You must’ve been really furious.”

  O’Hara was spinning webs, hoping I’d screw up and step into one of them. “I was upset, but I walked some laps outside the building and just sat down for a bit.”

  “Did anyone see you outside?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “You served her the champagne, am I correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You left her with two bottles?”

  “No, just one.”

  He stared at me for an uncomfortable stretch of time. “Does Enchanted Events always serve champagne?”