Laughter erupted from the living room. Casey stepped over the threshold, horrified to spot at least ten of Lou’s relatives in the dining area. “I didn’t know so many would be here.” When she saw all the vehicles parked out front, she’d had a horrible feeling, though.
“You know how it is,” Lou said. “Any excuse for a party.”
“Yeah.” Sighing, Casey stepped inside, grateful that Barb’s house had air conditioning.
Lou swept strands of damp hair off her forehead. “It’s more than fatigue, isn’t it?”
She nodded, unable to get the words out.
“I heard about Elsie Englehart. I’m sorry, hon. I know how much you liked her.”
Casey’s throat tightened as Lou wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him hard.
“We might have to work graveyard shifts in the hot zone,” she said.
Lou stepped back, his eyes wary. “Seriously? Stan wants you guys prowling around, looking for home invaders?”
“Not Stan. Gwyn. The guy never misses a chance to try and impress law enforcement officials.”
“You finally made it,” Barb said.
“Yeah. I had to deal with some work issues. Sorry.”
“Never mind. You’re here now.” Barb’s chubby frame and straw-colored, shoulder-length hair smothered Casey in a firm hug. “I’ve got some great ideas for centerpieces, and I’ve narrowed down the flower choices to three. But we’ll have to act fast because we’re behind schedule. You two really should have called me in sooner.”
“I didn’t think there’d be this many details to worry about,” Lou answered defensively.
“Well, there are.” She turned to Casey. “Have you and Summer picked out your dresses yet?”
“No.”
“Oh dear. Time’s growing short. How about we visit some shops on Saturday?”
“Summer’s at camp this week,” Casey replied, “and won’t be back till Sunday.”
“Too bad, although at least it gives you and Lou a much-needed break from parenting.”
Much-needed break? Casey didn’t recall complaining about her legal-guardian responsibilities, unless Lou had said something.
“What are you talking about?” Lou asked. “We don’t need a break.”
Barb chuckled. “You think I don’t know what moody teenagers are like? I raised all of you after your father left, didn’t I?”
Casey noticed how rigid Lou’s jaw became. It always did when his father’s name came up. The man lived in Winnipeg and had a new family. Lou hadn’t mentioned his dad when they’d first discussed the invitation list. She’d assumed he would be at the wedding, but now she wondered.
“Everyone needs a break now and then,” Barb said, ushering her and Lou toward the relatives. “You’ll find that out when the first baby comes along.”
“Who’s having a baby?” Lou’s paternal grandmother joined them and zeroed in on Casey’s belly. “You got a bun in the oven already, sweetie?”
Casey was more amused than shocked. She was about to answer, but Lou beat her to it.
“No, Gran,” he replied in a strained tone. “She doesn’t.”
“Don’t you remember Casey’s ward?” Barb asked. “The pretty girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes. You met her last year when she stayed with us a few days.”
“Right. The girl whose mother’s in prison.” Gran clicked her tongue. “I remember hearing about Rhonda Stubbs’s trial and conviction. Bit of a loony tune, isn’t she?”
The smile vanished. As much as Casey loved Lou’s family, the older ones often spoke without thinking.
“Never mind that,” Barb said, turning to Casey. “Let me know when you can go dress shopping. The sooner the better.”
“I’ll come,” Gran stated. “I need something new for the wedding. Something with pink sequins would be dandy. I’ve always wanted to wear pink sequins.”
Casey sighed. Shopping with this woman would be hell. Gran shuffled at a snail’s pace and had a hard time staying focused. Barb’s horrified glance told Casey that she thought so too. Casey once asked Lou why Barb invited her ex mother-in-law to most of the family gatherings. He replied that she did it for the kids, who adored their flamboyant Gran. But Lou and his siblings were now grown. What was once flamboyant fun had become embarrassing eccentricity.
“Have you picked out a tux yet?” Barb asked Lou.
Lou’s normally pale skin developed a pink hue, darkening the smattering of freckles on his cheeks. “I told you I’m not wearing one.”
“But you looked spectacular at your brother’s wedding.”
“I’ll look good in a suit too.” Lou reached for Casey’s hand. “Casey needs a beer.”
Actually, Casey needed a bottle of good tequila, but she kept that to herself.
“It’s an evening ceremony,” Barb said. “I’m sure Casey will be wearing a floor-length gown, won’t you, Casey?”
A not-so-subtle hint. Truthfully, she hadn’t decided. “Actually, I plan to wear whatever feels right.”
“I need to get you that beer,” Lou said, squeezing her hand.
They’d barely stepped into the kitchen before a chorus of “Here Comes the Bride” erupted from one of Lou’s brothers and two aunts. Casey fought the urge to run away. While Lou fetched a couple of beers from the fridge, she plastered on a happy face through every excruciating, off-key note. A stranger might blame alcohol for the serenade, but Casey knew better. Lou’s family often burst into song with little provocation. Normally, she didn’t mind. Hell, she even found it fun. Tonight, every nerve in her body screamed to get out of here.
Lou popped the cans and filled their glasses. As he finished, so did the singing, which allowed everyone in the kitchen to overhear the argument in the adjoining TV room. Lou’s grandfathers were at it again. Both were in their mid-eighties and neither had mellowed with age. Arguments inevitably escalated into shouts and finger-jabbing at each other’s chest until one of them fell over. A couple of relatives rushed toward the room.
“Can we go outside?” she asked Lou.
“Sure.”
They were about to step over the threshold when Barb reappeared and practically pulled them toward the dining table crowded with half-empty dishes. “Have some food, Casey. There’s still plenty left.”
Gazing at the casseroles, salads, and chicken wings, Casey realized how little she’d eaten today. “Looks delicious. Maybe you should cater the wedding.”
“You can’t do that to the mother of the groom!” a voice behind her cried.
Casey turned to find one of Lou’s aunts giving her a mortified look.
“It was a joke,” Barb said to her sister. “She didn’t mean it.”
As the aunt returned a blank stare, Casey began filling her plate.
“There you all are,” another of Barb’s sisters said, swooping into the room in her ruffled sundress. “I want to discuss seating arrangements with Lou and Casey. I simply can’t sit beside—”
“Give the kids a chance to eat, for heaven’s sake,” Barb interrupted. “We’ll work it out later.”
“Don’t brush me off again, Barbie. This is important. Right, Casey?”
“I’m sure Barb knows where everyone should sit better than I do,” Casey replied. “It can’t be that hard, can it?” She cringed at the pitying looks on their faces.
“I’m afraid it’s growing more complicated by the day,” Barb replied. “You two need to stay on top of things.”
“Indeed,” said the first aunt.
“Is there any way we can keep things simple?” Lou asked.
Barb and her sisters burst out laughing, but as far as Casey was concerned, Lou had a valid point. Her first wedding hadn’t been this much trouble. Of course, neither family had had any money back then. The ceremony and reception took place on a friend’s sailboat with ten close friends bringing a potluck dinner. Planning had been easy, the marriage not so much.
“Are you that hungry?” Lou asked her, “or h
ave you decided to bring home a humongous doggie bag?”
Casey looked at the veggies and wings she’d heaped on her plate. “Sorry. My mind was wandering.” She caught Barb and the aunts watching her with cautious expressions. “Can we go outside now?”
“Sure.”
“It’s much cooler in here,” one of the aunts said, “and the kids are noisy.”
They also didn’t give a crap about weddings. Gripping her plate, Casey slid the glass door open and stepped into the hot air. The patio table was cluttered with juice boxes and dirty plates from Lou’s nieces and nephews who were playing in the yard.
“Let’s use the picnic table,” Lou said, stepping onto the grass. “It’s farther away from the house.”
The kids waved and greeted Casey while they chased one another around the trampoline. Casey returned their greetings, happy to be surrounded by youngsters having fun. One of the five-year-olds laughed as she jumped on the trampoline.
Casey sat down. Looking at her plate, she realized she wasn’t as hungry as she thought. She rubbed sweaty palms on her shorts. Where was her beer? Must have left it on the dining room table. The thought of going back inside held no appeal.
“Relax, hon.” Lou stroked her hair. “It’ll be okay.”
Yeah, it would. Eventually. The problem was that sadness didn’t have an on-and-off switch or an expiry date. Lou of all people knew that. Casey recalled darker times . . . the long, deep depression after her father’s death. Lou, who’d been just a friend then, had tried so hard to help her. In the end, medication and therapy slowly got her back on her feet.
“Try not to let my family get to ya,” he said.
Casey nodded. “It’s just that seating arrangements and dress shopping isn’t that important tonight. Not when Elsie’s gone.”
“I get it, but my family doesn’t know anything about your relationship with her. All that matters to them is our wedding.” Lou placed his hand over hers. “You need a break from work issues. You haven’t slept well since the assignment began.”
She shrugged. “It’s the heat mostly.”
Barb appeared with pad and pen in hand. “I did some quick calculations. With eight people at twenty-five tables, I think the buffet should be arranged on both sides of the room, don’t you?”
Casey shoved a cherry tomato in her mouth and looked at Lou.
“The golf and country club’s hosted hundreds of receptions,” Lou answered. “They’ll know what to do. We don’t need to worry over details like that, do we?”
Barb gave him an exasperated frown. “Then don’t blame me if they screw up.” She marched back into the house, muttering.
“Shit.” Lou raked his hand through his auburn hair. “I’d better talk to her.”
Squeals of delight came from the trampoline. Their joy was so infectious that Casey found herself strolling toward them. “Can I try?”
The girls scrambled off to give her room. Casey moved to the center and began jumping. Springing into the air, she marveled at how light the world felt up here. Dark thoughts floated away like helium balloons. She grinned and chuckled.
“Do a somersault!” one of the kids shouted.
After three strong bounces, Casey jumped high, tucked knees to chest, and somehow landed on her back. The kids howled with laughter, as did she. Clumsily, she got back on her feet and resumed jumping. Turning away from the house, she faced the hedge and the neighboring trees. It was like being on top of the world up here.
“What are you doing?” Lou called out.
Casey turned in midair to spot his concerned expression. The adults, now on the patio, were gaping with either amusement or disapproval.
“Having fun,” she replied. “We should have one of these at the wedding. The kids would love it.”
“Yeah!” came a chorus of voices.
The aunts shook their heads.
“Come down and eat,” Lou said. “I’ve got your beer.” He held the glass in the air, a light golden beacon of hope and calming rationality.
After four more jumps Casey reluctantly stopped. By the time her feet were back on the ground, she felt hot and weighted down.
Lou gave her a hug, then stroked her cheek. “I didn’t realize how upset you are.”
“Neither did I,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
FIVE
Through the open bus window, Casey gulped in as much fresh air as her lungs could hold. Had Philippe chosen to splash on a ghastly, overripe cologne just to annoy her? He wouldn’t have welcomed Stan’s order to ride with her this morning. Casey didn’t like it either. Given the many asthma and allergy sufferers these days, Philippe should have been more sensitive to others.
“You never said where you two are going on your honeymoon,” Philippe remarked. “Is it a big secret?”
“No.” Why was the idiot peppering her with personal questions when he should be focusing on the passengers?
Riding with this guy hadn’t been one of Stan’s better ideas, but then he didn’t fully understand how much Philippe enjoyed baiting colleagues. Stan had suggested that she search for common ground, find a way to work better as a team. As second-in-command, Casey was expected to take a professional, effective approach to conflict resolution. But Philippe Beauchamp was a special challenge, one that required extra handling and a How To Handle Jackasses manual. Too bad that such a manual didn’t exist.
“You know,” Philippe said, his aqua eyes sparkling, “it almost sounds like you haven’t decided on a destination.”
He was right. One of Lou’s aunts raised the topic last night, but Lou shot her down pretty quick, for which Casey had been grateful.
“Have you ever been engaged?” Casey asked, hoping to distract him. She was surprised to see Philippe turning away. “Have I hit a nerve?”
“Not at all.” He looked at his phone.
In the four months Philippe had been with Mainland Public Transport, Casey hadn’t learned much about him. He never mentioned family, except to say that they lived in Quebec. Despite the French name, Philippe lacked a French-Canadian accent. As far as she knew, he’d never spoken French.
“But I’m sure you’ve had a few girlfriends.”
He looked at her. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. I bet you’ve been in love at least once.”
Philippe scrolled through emails. “Not really.”
“That’s an evasive answer.”
Finally, he looked up. “I know you’ve been in love at least twice. You were married before, correct?”
Given what she’d seen at work, Philippe normally enjoyed talking about himself, although all of it was superficial nonsense. She must have truly hit a nerve about his love life.
“When I was twenty, I married my high school sweetheart,” Casey replied. “By the time I was twenty-six, it was over.”
Philippe nodded. “I heard he cheated on you and then married the chick.”
Casey would bet a paycheck that Philippe had been trolling for gossip. “I got the better deal. Trust me.”
“I also heard that he was an MPT driver until a few months ago.”
How was this common-ground thing supposed to work if Philippe was doing all the asking and none of the sharing? “Yes.”
“Sounds like he got a sweet deal working for TransLink. It sucks that we don’t get a union wage.”
“Why didn’t you join TransLink?” Casey asked as she scanned the passengers.
“Big outfits don’t interest me. Too much bureaucracy.”
“Uh-huh.” Or had he applied and been turned down?
“How much time have you booked off for your honeymoon?”
The breeze through the bus window ruffled Casey’s hair. The bus was a few degrees hotter than the warm temperature outside. “Three weeks.”
“Guess you’ll be starting a family soon. You’re both in your early thirties, right?”
And the idiot wanted her gone so he could take over her job? Shortly after h
e joined Mainland, he’d made his ambition clear. If she hadn’t been on duty, she’d have lectured Philippe until his ears bled, but Casey’s attention was drawn to the frail old man now boarding the bus.
This was the same guy with the fanny pack she saw yesterday. Today, he wore black knee socks and sandals, and plaid shorts. The old man eased into a seat near the front.
“Don’t you want kids?” Philippe asked.
Casey ignored the question. “What have you noticed about the seniors today?”
“Diverting the subject, huh?” Philippe smiled.
Casey glared at her useless colleague. When Philippe first joined MPT, female coworkers thought his wavy hair and thin beard were sexy. But then they got to know him.
“We’re supposed to be working,” she murmured. “So do your job and tell me what you’ve noticed.”
“That it sucks to be old.”
“Can you try a more professional attitude?”
At the next stop, the Jellyfish ladies, Hilda and Daisy, stepped on board. Daisy led the way, the flower in her hat slightly bobbing with every step. The perpetually smiling Hilda waddled behind. She was about to sit down when she spotted Casey and waved.
“Casey, honey! How’s my favorite crime-fighter?”
Casey cringed as nearby passengers looked at her. Out the corner of her eye, she caught Philippe’s smirk.
“You’re not supposed to talk to security,” Daisy said, smacking Hilda’s arm. “I’ve told you that a million times.”
“Well, I can’t remember everything, can I?”
“You can’t remember anything,” Daisy shot back. “And must I remind you again that your dress isn’t supposed to zip up the front like that?”
“That’s not forgetfulness, that’s practicality. It’s a tent dress and easier to put on this way,” Hilda replied. “And someone should tell you that plastic daisies went out with jelly salads. You’re so out of touch, Daisy.” She turned to Casey. “See what I have to put up with?”
Philippe snickered. “Friends of yours?”
“Just some of the people I watch out for.”
“How come they know your name?”
Knock Knock Page 3
