Ben laughed. “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you meet me and we’ll have lunch and make a special occasion of it?”
Laney made an executive decision to abandon the tuna and the manuscript. She could read it tonight while Josh was at hockey practice, and finish it later after Josh had gone to bed. She probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway. It would give her something productive to do. She’d already told Ben that they were not going to sleep together until after the wedding. Despite Ben’s denials, she was certain sex was on the list of forbidden heavy-duty activities the doctor had recommended he avoid to prevent tearing his stitches.
She was barreling out of the house, feeling like the sexiest woman alive in a soft, clinging outfit, with dabs of perfume placed in strategic spots for Ben, when a car pulled up in her driveway, blocking her in.
“Laney, thank heavens!” her friend Colombe cried, scrambling out of her canary-yellow BMW. “I’ve been worried sick about you. I’m tired of reaching your voice mail. How is Josh? How did he take the news?”
Laney hugged her tall friend. “I’m sorry, Colombe. Everything’s been so crazy, I’ve just been ignoring the phone. But I’m wonderful. Josh is doing okay. And I’m getting married!”
“Married! To Ben?”
Laney laughed at the shock on her friend’s face. Then the concern. “I know. I know. It’s sudden. But he asked me last night and I’m going off to meet him right now to buy the rings. Our rings. It sounds so wonderful, doesn’t it? I thought I loved Reese, but this feeling with Ben is so—” Laney spread her arms wide and twirled around, slipping a bit on the icy sidewalk. “Encompassing. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so, Laney, but—”
Laney wasn’t in the mood to hear words of advice. She’d been mourning life and missed opportunities since Reese’s initial disappearance. Now she wanted to live it up. She blithely gripped Colombe’s arms and cut her off. “Listen, what are you doing next Friday afternoon? Ben and I are getting married and I want you to be my Matron of Honor. Or is Best Woman the politically correct term now?”
“Does this mean we get to go shopping together for dresses?” Colombe asked.
“Yes,” Laney stated emphatically.
“Then I accept. Though you realize we’re going to look like a giraffe standing next to a mouse at the altar.”
Laney flicked her wrist at her cluttered, yet adorable Victorian cottage. “As if I cared about aesthetics. Not to worry. The wedding promises to be a zoo anyway.”
Colombe choked back a laugh and hugged Laney again. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
THE RESOURCES of the RCMP were swift and sure in determining the meaning of the list of companies and dates. By the end of the week, McBain called to inform them that the companies were indeed businesses that Reese had toured in the course of his job at CDN Investments. The dates coincided with reported burglaries, in which the computer systems of the businesses had been stolen. The police suspected that Reese and Dallyn’s import/export wine business was a front for a criminal ring selling information technology to foreign countries.
Laney sighed. At least they knew the truth now. And Yale Sheridan was probably relieved the authorities wouldn’t soon be breathing down his neck.
“That explains the lack of equipment in the warehouse and the wino’s comment about the wine tasting like vinegar. I should have clued in to that before,” she heard Ben tell McBain from the extension in his bedroom. Laney was listening in on the kitchen extension in Ben’s house.
“But why did Vohringer leave Reese’s electronic notebook in the chalet—especially when it had the potential to give away his operation?” Laney asked.
“I think you showed up at the house before he could find it. We found it in a boot in the downstairs closet. We’re not sure how it got there. Maybe it fell out of his coat. But it also explains why he tried to kill you. He planned to make you the fall guy for this scheme, but when you weren’t the patsy he expected and you kept pushing for the truth, he realized you posed a serious threat. Kristel didn’t know anything about Reese’s previous employment as a financial analyst, but you knew enough to start putting pieces together.”
Which explained what Dallyn had meant when he’d told her that she and Ben were a liability and asked too many questions.
Laney wound a lock of hair around her finger and gazed at the piles of craft materials, cans of gold spray paint and tulle littering the kitchen table. Georgina was fashioning centerpieces and napkin rings for the small reception, which would be held at one of Laney’s favorite restaurants. They were exquisite, with a moon, sun and stars motif, because Ben had told her he’d fallen in love with her when they’d stood with the boys and watched their Christmas balloons disappear into a starry sky. “But that doesn’t explain Reese’s memo for me to meet him at five-thirty. The girl definitely said seven.”
Ben chipped in a theory. “Maybe Reese’s memo meant he planned to be back at the house by five-thirty to prepare for your arrival.”
“I suppose,” Laney agreed. She hung up the phone feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Maybe it was from finally learning what Reese was up to. Or maybe it was a case of cold feet and the pressure of knowing the wedding was only a week away. She must be crazy in love with Ben to think she could pull this off. She picked up a shiny gold star that had escaped from the table and landed on the floor. Laney balanced it on the tip of her index finger. Oh, yes, she was crazy in love, all right. Somehow. Some way. It helped having a crafty mother-in-law, who deserved a restful week away as a treat for being such an angel with the boys and the wedding plans. Laney sighed. Maybe after she and Ben said their vows, this queasy feeling would go away.
“HERE, MOM, we have a present for you,” Josh and Scott said in unison as the door to the room reserved for brides in the church opened.
Laney turned away from the mirror and smiled with pride at her two little men in navy suits, faces bright and hair slightly ruffled, sharing the weight of a silver-wrapped package between them. She hoped whatever was in the box wasn’t fragile. “Oh, did someone give you a gift? Go give it to Uncle Rob and ask him to lock it in the trunk of his car.”
“No, Mom,” Josh said, as Laney straightened the calla lily trimmed with a gold moon that was pinned to his lapel. The boys were going to walk her down the aisle. “You don’t understand. This is a present for you from me and Scott. You have to open it now.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Scott agreed, ducking his head before Laney could correct an unruly cowlick on his crown. “It’s your something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. Grandma said a bride has to have all that stuff for good luck.”
“Well, you certainly want good luck don’t you, Laney?” Colombe quipped, succeeding where Laney had failed and smoothing down Scott’s cowlick with Laney’s hairbrush.
“You boys are my good luck. But I was never one to turn down a present.” Laney held out her hands for the box. Its weight made her wonder immediately how she was ever going to wear whatever was inside. She hoped Grandma had explained that to the boys.
Laney set the box beside her beribboned bride’s bouquet on the table and tore off the heavy silver paper the boys had decorated with gold stars. “Oh, my goodness,” she breathed when she lifted the lid of the box and saw four familiar faces beaming up at her from four connecting hearts. There was also a poem. The oak wood had been beautifully stained, the perimeter painted with blue hearts and the whole thing varnished. Was this the valentine Ben had told her about? “This is beautiful, boys. But how did you get this?”
“We found it in Dad’s workshop and we finished it for him. See, it’s a puzzle, Mom,” Josh explained. “The four of us fit together like a family. Ben made it and wrote the poem. It’s gushy.”
Laney let the “found” reference go. She could talk to the boys about snooping through the trash later. • Tears sprang to her eyes as she read Ben’s poem:
To Laney,
My friend you are and
will always be
Your warmth and smile light up our lives
Your laughter brings us joy
And draws us close in love and harmony.
I’m offering you dinner and a fine wine.
If only you’ll be my Valentine.
Affectionately, Ben
Scott tugged on Laney’s arm. “Why are you crying, Mom? Don’t you like it? I painted on the blue hearts ‘cause Grandma said we needed something blue. The photos are old, the puzzle is new, and the varnish we borrowed from Grandma. She helped us do it.”
Laney nodded, too choked-up to speak, and wiped her cheeks with her fingers. She was probably ruining her makeup.
“Of course she likes it,” Josh explained patiently. “She always cries when she gets good presents. When she starts talking a lot it usually means she doesn’t like it.”
Laney caught both boys in a tight hug. “I love it. Thank you.” Since they were trapped in her arms without means of escape, she risked kissing each of her sons on the cheek. “Would you please take it outside and ask Grandma to put it someplace near the front of the church where everyone can see it? The guests should be arriving now, so you need to usher them into the pews. The minister will tell you when it’s time to walk me down the aisle.”
Organ music filled the little room as the boys filed out, taking great care of the heart in their charge.
“I must look a mess,” Laney said, turning to Colombe with a sigh of contentment. “All that primping down the drain.”
“You look happier than any woman has a right to be,” Colombe replied, suddenly brusque. “Sit here and I’ll fix your makeup. Your tears have left tracks.” Laney obediently sat down in front of the mirror, allowing Colombe to touch up the damaged spots. Her heart hammered with anticipation to see Ben in his navy suit, waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Tuxes, she’d learned from Ben, were very impractical.
Colombe’s voice drifted into the pink glow of her thoughts. “You realize how unbelievably lucky you are to be marrying again after being jilted so badly. I suppose you and Ben will have more babies. I can picture you with a little girl with curly auburn hair to drive Scott and Josh nuts.”
Laney heard something in Colombe’s tone she’d never heard before...envy... a hint of bitterness. Colombe had confided once that she and her husband had discovered she couldn’t bear children.
In a rush of sympathy, Laney laid her hand on Colombe’s wrist. She looked stunning in the royal-blue sheath dress, her silver hair pulled up in a sophisticated knot. And she’d substituted contact lenses for the glasses she normally wore. “I know happiness will find its way to you—just as it did to me.”
Colombe shook her head and moved to the table beside the door where she picked up Laney’s wedding bouquet. Her back was to Laney, but Laney could see the long streamers trailing from the cluster of white calla lilies flowing over her fingers as she made a minute adjustment to the arrangement. “At least,” she said, finally turning around and raising her eyes to meet Laney’s gaze, “I received some satisfaction from knowing that Kristel was suffering the same misery I’d suffered. How did it feel, Laney, to know you’d been replaced by someone younger and prettier and wealthier?”
Laney stared at Colombe in mute shock. What was she saying?
Colombe took a step closer to Laney, the knuckles of her fingers white against the white streamers of the bouquet. “Did you feel humiliated? Did you hate knowing your husband had shared sacred vows with someone else? Shared his body?” Colombe laughed very softly. Hollowly. “Perhaps, little innocent Laney, you don’t want to know how thriftily he sent copies of the same poem to each wife. Such a pity Kristel hadn’t been pregnant, so you’d feel the pain of knowing another woman bore your husband’s child.”
Laney steeled herself against the spiteful words Colombe was torturing her with. She forced her lungs to operate, forced her throat to produce words. “Y-you were married to Reese, too?”
“Yes. Only he wasn’t Reese Dobson. His real name was Patrick Cyr. He supposedly drowned one day in a sailing mishap in Halifax six months before Reese Dobson supposedly died in an avalanche. Patrick’s body was never found.” Colombe wrenched a lily out of the bouquet and threw it to the ground. “I didn’t know he was leading a double life until I’d found the love poems addressed to you and Kristel Walker in a hidey-hole in our house when I had a closet wall torn down for renovations. I don’t know which propelled me most, anger or curiosity. But I had to meet you both. I was amazed that your husband had also died, but when I got to Vancouver and saw Graham Walker, I knew why. And I decided someone was going to make him pay.”
Laney straightened. “So you took your sabbatical here to set me up. Became my friend. Took my lingerie. Some hairs from my brush. And the silverware from the restaurant. Did Reese even send for me? Or was that you, too?”
“That was me. I called him in Vancouver. That shook him up. We arranged a secret rendezvous in Whistler for Valentine’s Day. I think somehow he thought he could pacify me into keeping his secret with the flowers and the candles and the meal. I rather enjoyed the idea of his rich, pretty wife pining away for him while he was with me. And, of course, there you were, the mother of his child, alone in a restaurant, stood up on Valentine’s Day. There seemed a certain poetic justice in that.”
Laney felt terribly sorry that Colombe hadn’t been fortunate to meet a man as wonderful as Ben, who’d kept her from wallowing in self-pity and self-doubt and shown Laney how one-sided her relationship with Reese had been. She couldn’t even manage any anger toward Colombe for trying to manipulate her into a jail cell. She, Colombe and Kristel had all been victimized by Reese/Patrick/Graham, whatever his real name was.
Colombe had just reacted violently and taken things to extremes.
“Colombo, I’m so sorry this has happened to you. To all three of us. I’m glad you told me. I think you needed to tell someone. But now you need to do the right thing and tell the police.” Laney rose from the chair. Her heart pounded in her breast as she held out her hand to Colombe. “The wedding can be postponed. I’ll come with you for moral support, okay?”
Colombe gritted her teeth fiercely. “I don’t want your pity. I want you dead.”
Laney threw up her arms instinctively as Colombe looped the streamers of the bride’s bouquet over her head and pulled them taut around her neck.
AT THE MINISTER’S SIGNAL, Josh and Scott blushed and strutted importantly down the red carpeted stairs to the bride’s room located in the basement. Giving each other the thumbs-up sign, they tried to open the door to the room. It wouldn’t budge.
“Mom, are you in there? It’s us,” Josh called, rattling the handle. The door was locked.
He heard a small crash.
“Mom? Colombe?” he repeated again, knocking real hard until his knuckles hurt. Josh looked at Scott and pressed his ear to the door. “She’s not answering. But somebody’s in there. I can hear them. They’re making funny noises. What do you think that means?”
Scott frowned. “I dunno. Maybe she broke something and she’s afraid she’ll get in trouble. Or maybe the door’s locked and she’s climbing through the window ‘cause she doesn’t know how to open it. I’ll go get Dad. He’ll know what to do.”
“Okay, I’ll stay here. Hurry!” Josh pounded on the door again. “Mom? Can’t you hear me? Open up!”
Ben heard his son’s cries for help echo through the church. “Dad, come here quick! We’ve got a problem.” Ben hadn’t heard him raise his voice this high since before Rebecca’s death.
Ben motioned for his brother Rob, the best man, to follow him. Heads swiveled and a ripple of concern swelled among the guests as they both ran down the aisle toward Scott.
“Mom won’t open the door. I think she and Colombe are stuck in there.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Girls!”
“Show me where,” Ben ordered. He thundered down the stairs after Scott, wondering what the hell was going on.
Scott’s explana
tion in no way prepared him for Josh’s white expression as he whirled around at their approach.
“They’re in here. I think they’re having an argument.”
Ben frowned in bewilderment and tried the door. “Laney?” Her lack of response and a muffled cry inside the room made hackles rise on the back of his neck. He turned to the boys, trying not to let his concern show. “Boys, go upstairs and tell Grandma I need the emergency tool kit from the trunk of her car. We can use a screwdriver to unlock the door. Hustle.”
Ben signaled his brother to stay put and as soon as the boys were up the stairs, he and Rob kicked the door in. A horrible sense of déjà vu gripped his heart as he took in the chaos in the bride’s room and the vicious expression on Colombe’s face as she fought to squeeze the life out of Laney.
Ben flew across the room with his brother on his heels and clamped his hands around Colombe’s wrists, crushing her wrists until she let go of the bouquet with a shriek that would stir the pigeons nesting in the bell tower. Ben wrestled her to the floor while Rob disentangled Laney from the ribbons cutting into her throat. Ben was amazed at Colombe’s strength as she bucked and kicked at him. The woman was an Amazon.
He cast an anxious glance at Laney, who was redfaced and coughing. “Laney? Are you all right?” he demanded, still struggling with Colombe. “Rob, get Laney a chair. I think she’s going to faint.”
“I’m fine, Ben,” Laney said weakly, though she allowed Rob to lead her to a chair. Her hands fluttered to her throat and she winced as she gently explored the extent of her injuries. “I didn’t realize Colombe had locked the door. Did you tear your stitches?”
“I don’t think so.” The white marks on her neck made Ben see red. He tightened his grip on Colombe’s wrists. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
Laney gave him a warning glance and shook her head. “In a minute. We have company.”
Ben looked back over his shoulder and saw that she was right. A crowd had gathered outside the door now, including the minister. He could hear Scott and Josh’s excited voices demanding to know what was going on, though he couldn’t see them. Thank heavens his mother had them well in hand.
To Laney, With Love Page 19
