Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3

by Chautona Havig

  Chad didn’t speak for several minutes. The kiss had moved her, yes, but it had moved him as well, yet in a very different way. Affection for Willow came naturally. He’d rarely even thought about it. His family was an affectionate one, and until the fiasco with Linnea Burrell, he’d been affectionate with almost everyone in his life.

  Of course, he’d kissed her forehead or the top of her head, just as he’d kissed his sister or his aunt. He’d seen hundreds of on-screen kisses over the years and at best, they bored him. Too often, he often found them a little repulsive. This one, however— He sighed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chad pulled her back to him as Willow tried to pull away. “For what?”

  “You sighed. I thought maybe I annoyed you or something.”

  “The kiss moved me too Willow. I think—” Chad cut himself off. “I think I’ll say goodnight.”

  Fifteen minutes later, just as he started to drift to sleep, the music from the end of the movie drifted up to his room. Chad crept down the stairs to the landing and smiled as he watched Willow, head in her hands, elbows on her knees, re-watching the final scene of the movie just once more.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  The clock chimed nine-thirty. Chad reached for his phone. He’d waited, hadn’t demanded information, had been the perfect patient, but the women were gone, and now it was time for answers. “Hey Chief, where is Brad?”

  “Had to take his car in for an oil change. He’s walking in now; do you need him?”

  “Actually,” Chad admitted, “I was hoping you’d come out here and tell me what you know about the accident. I’ve been thinking about it, and none of it makes sense.”

  “You’re supposed to be recuperating, Chad.”

  Chad fought to keep a respectful tone in his voice as he pressed for information. “Look, I’ll be back in three days. How can knowing what’s going on hurt me now? I can’t go anywhere; I don’t have a vehicle. I’m stuck out here at Willow’s by myself all day, and I’m bored stiff.”

  Chief Varney resisted the idea but eventually capitulated. “I’ll bring out the files and tell you what we know. Can’t stay long; I’ve got beat this afternoon.”

  “You’re on beat? I’m sorry.”

  The Chief chuckled. “Unlike you, son, I like it. It’s cold this time of year, but people need a friendly face.”

  Twenty minutes later, Chief Varney sat on Willow’s couch and passed a file across the coffee table. A question jerked him from the contents as his boss spoke. “Chad, I’ve never wanted to ask—it’s none of my business, but is there anything going on with you and Miss Finley?”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, Chad said, “Well actually, we’re getting married.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know things had gotten that serious. Congratulations!”

  “We haven’t announced it yet. My cousin’s getting married in March, so we’re waiting until after that. Let him have his day, you know?”

  “Thoughtful of you. I have to admit, I’m surprised. You always seemed a little put out that you had to come out here. I knew it’d happen eventually, but—” Varney took back the file and spread out the information they had on Willow’s stalker across the coffee table. “His name is Ben Fischer. Clean record. One speeding ticket and a drunk and disorderly on his twenty-first birthday, but other than that, model citizen.”

  “Any idea why he was after Willow?”

  Chief Varney shook his head. “No, and what’s worse, a guy like him doesn’t do the things he did without some training or experience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen it in Rockland. We’d find them dead with no ties to anyone, no record, but too much experience or training for it to be a fluke.”

  “So working for someone?”

  With a hesitant nod, Chief Varney pointed at Chad’s neck. “That accident. It wasn’t one. Your head injury could have come from hitting the side of the door, but that hypodermic didn’t just jab itself into your neck.”

  “True…”

  The older man continued as if on a roll. “And how did Fischer’s seatbelt fail? He just accidentally managed to fly through the back window? I don’t think so. The coroner found a hypodermic on him too. He’d have missed it if we hadn’t got suspicious about your memory loss. You didn’t hit your head that hard.”

  “I’m glad no one thought I took those things voluntarily.”

  “Well we certainly didn’t think Willow gave them to you!” the chief teased, before growing serious again. “If you hadn’t gotten too much of that stuff, we’d never have questioned anything. It was just good enough to look the after effects of a head injury, but when they found that puncture—”

  “How did we catch him in the first place?”

  While Frank Varney recounted the story of Ben’s capture, Chad listened closely. “He was moving clothes?”

  “Yep. I had her repeat her statement several times. Was sure she was explaining it wrong or something.”

  Chad recounted events to keep them straight. “So for several weeks, Ben comes around, kills her animals, moves things around in her house—why? Then we catch him and he refuses to talk at all. Then he’s killed on the way to processing in Brunswick—why? Finally, why make it look like an accident? Why risk me remembering something?”

  “Well, the doc says with the dose you had, remembering anything is pretty slim.”

  “Why risk killing a cop with an overdose then?” Chad demanded.

  “You almost can’t overdose on R2, but it can make you extra vulnerable to other things.”

  Chad’s mind whirled. “Ben’s working for someone, gets caught, gets killed by someone else working for someone—”

  “What was the name of the guy who paid off Willow’s mother?”

  “Solari.”

  Chief Varney’s face paled, turning even his red nose a sickly white.

  Willow held Aggie’s wedding invitation and weighed it against the different papers in the store. After half a dozen places, she still hadn’t found what she wanted. Frustrated, she turned to Marianne and sighed. “I won’t find what I want, so I’ll make it. I want a few hundred sheets of watercolor paper.”

  “We have precut cards and envelopes—”

  Marianne shook her head, laughing. “Willow doesn’t work with ‘premade.’ Thanks anyway.”

  They left with two boxes of paper—watercolor paper for invitations and linen paper for envelopes. Marianne laughed as they loaded the car with her purchases. “Did you see that man’s face when you bought paper to make your envelopes?”

  “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry. Where do you suggest?”

  As Marianne drove to a restaurant, Willow discussed options for the invitations. Through lunch, they discussed dates and food, but both women avoided the dress discussion. Willow really wanted to see what was available in wedding gowns but thought that she should wait for Cheri and that meant another week or two.

  At last, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “How many people do you think buy their wedding dress the first time they go looking for them?”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt it’s very many. There are so many styles and body shapes and finding the two that fit together is probably time consuming.”

  Curious, Willow asked Marianne about her wedding dress. “What did yours look like? How long did it take you to find it?”

  “I wore my mother’s dress. The basic style was the same as every dress I tried on, but mom’s was prettier so I chose hers.”

  A glint formed in Willow’s eye just before she took her first bite of sandwich. “So, if most people don’t find their dress the first day, would it be thoughtless of us to do a little looking before we go home today? Even without Cheri?”

  “Yes!” Marianne exulted pumping her fist in the air. Willow wasn’t sure what the gesture meant, but she was fairly certain that they’d be dress shopping within the hour.

  Bridal Aisle was Rockland’s “Chinatown,” but for wed
ding paraphernalia. For three blocks, seventy-five percent of the businesses directly catered to the wedding trade. The Agency, Rockland’s exclusive wedding planners, bridal shops, caterers, bakeries, stationers, gift shops, and even a wedding chapel all made their home on Oakland Drive.

  They decided to take the stores in order, but Willow saw “Kari’s Bridal” and strode across the street. “I have to go.”

  Willow joked that the store looked like a snowstorm. White gowns were displayed on mannequins in the center of the store, and all along the walls, padded hangers hung dresses of every size and style in elegant rows. “Wow.”

  A woman greeted them as they entered but left them to wander around the room for a few minutes before she offered her help. “Do you have a date?”

  Willow shook her head. “Not yet. Probably May.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time. Do we have a budget?”

  “Am I supposed to?” Willow countered.

  “Of course not. Some people have to stick to a budget, and I like to know what I’m working with before I make suggestions. I’m Kari, by the way.”

  “This is Marianne, my fiancée’s mother, and I am Willow.”

  “How unusual for the mother of the groom to bring you shopping,” Kari said, with an expression that clearly wanted to know more.

  “My mother died this year.” Willow paused. “That’s actually why I came in here. Her name was Kari too.”

  Kari murmured a polite, “sorry for your loss,” before she launched into her generic tour of the boutique. “Well these,” she swung her arm in an arc indicating the dresses on the mannequins, “Are what I call ‘the twelve.’ They represent the basic shapes that I carry at any given time. You have the evening gown look, the princess…” Kari pointed at each dress in succession as she described it. Then, to Marianne and Willow’s surprise, she asked, “Which of these dresses do you not care for?”

  That question was easy. Willow didn’t like the mermaid shaped gowns that fitted tightly and flared at the bottom or the evening gowns that looked like nightgowns rather than dresses. The rest, however, she found pleasing, although she was still unsure as to what interested her most.

  “Well, we can ignore this section of the racks then,” Kari explained. “Where is the wedding?”

  “My home.”

  “Outdoors?”

  Willow nodded and pointed to the gown Kari had described as ‘Grecian inspired.’ “Do you have something like that but—um—different?” She blushed as Kari chuckled. “I’m sorry, that must be the most annoying question. I like the fabric and the way it flows—chiffon is so beautiful—I just don’t care for the one sided strap look.”

  “Why don’t you go get undressed in the fitting room and your—Marianne and I will bring you similar gowns. What size—”

  “It depends on the chest. I’m small everywhere else but at least one size larger in the chest.”

  Marianne wiped away a few tears as Willow appeared in her first gown. The strapless bodice obviously made her very uncomfortable, but she was beautiful. “It’ll need alterations— whatever dress you choose even if it isn’t from me. You have the perfect Barbie figure or at least the figure they try to give an illusion of.”

  “I want some kind of strap or sleeve. This is uncomfortable.”

  “Well, she knows her own mind. That is a relief. You don’t know how many brides come in here thinking they know what they want but in reality are clueless. And that just cuts the dresses left in about half.” Kari pulled a few dresses from the racks putting most back as she did. “I assume long sleeves for an outdoor May wedding are out?”

  “Definitely.”

  The second dress everyone liked. It was pretty, feminine, and well suited to Willow’s personality and features, but she shook her head after a few turns at the trio of mirrors. “I love it. It is beautiful. It’s just not right. If I don’t find anything else, it’ll work, though.”

  She tried on dress after dress, twirled around the shop in them, and rejected each one. Most were beautiful, several Willow liked, but she sensed that Marianne was waiting for her to find the one dress that said, “buy me,” so she kept changing dresses. “I could get used to walking around in yards of fabric. Now I see why Alexa likes her clothes. They make you feel beautiful simply because you’re wearing them.”

  Marianne pulled a gown from the rack that she’d replaced several times. The ice blue accent sash would clash with the wedding colors, but after a dozen or more dresses, she knew it’d be exquisite. “Try this on. I know the color is wrong, but it’s so beautiful.”

  “I could easily replace that with white silk or satin. I like it.”

  Before Kari could comment, Willow disappeared into the dressing room. “That comes in ivory, white, and blue. She can just order it a different color.”

  Willow’s voice called for Marianne’s help from the dressing room. “It’s another one of those lace up the back things.”

  They all agreed the gown was Willow. It wasn’t just “a good choice” for Willow; it was Willow. “It feels a little formal, but then they all do.”

  “I love the dress, the way it fits you, it hardly needs adjustment.”

  Kari shook her head. “No, look,” she insisted and pulled the sides in for a more fitted look along the sides to the waist. “It needs to be altered but—”

  “How long does it take for them to come in once they’re ordered?”

  Willow’s head whipped back and forth between Marianne and Kari. She hadn’t thought of ordering. “Order?”

  “These are samples, Willow. They don’t sell the samples,” Marianne explained.

  “Well, with alterations, it’d be twelve weeks minimum.”

  “What about without?” Willow asked nervously. If the dress wasn’t available, she’d make one a lot like it.

  “Eight to ten weeks.”

  “Buy it.” Marianne’s voice cut through the boutique.

  “Do you think?”

  “You don’t have time to think, Willow. To get it here in time for you to alter, you need to buy it now.”

  “What about Cheri?” Willow hedged.

  “We’ll get to go shopping all kinds of things. She’d feel terrible if your dress didn’t make it because you waited for her to go shopping.”

  Hesitation choked her. Willow wanted to purchase the dress and didn’t want to look for another one, but she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Cheri out of the process. She knew instinctively that Cheri would want to share this time.

  “Can you call Cheri? Ask her to come here?”

  “She’ll know about your engagement.”

  Nodding, Willow started for the dressing room to retrieve her phone. “It was her idea— she should know. I’ll call Chad.”

  The phone rang several times before Chad answered. “Your mom and I went to look for dresses after we found the paper—”

  “Dresses! Really?”

  “I found the dress. I have to order it now if it’ll be here in time.”

  She could hear the grin in his voice as he said, “Order it.”

  “Cheri. She should be here. She should give her opinion.”

  “Call her.”

  Relief flooded Willow’s voice. “I’m really glad you said that because your mother is calling her as we speak.”

  “You know me too well already. I should be afraid.”

  “I just got a thumbs-up from your mom. I think that means Cheri’s coming.”

  “I wish I could be there.”

  “I’ll bring a picture home,” she promised.

  “I’ll be waiting for it.”

  Silence hung between them for a few minutes. “Hey, Willow?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you in your dressing room?”

  She thought she knew what was coming next. “Yep.”

  “Can you take a picture of your reflection in the mirror and send it?”

  “I can do better than that. I’ll get your mom to take one.”
>
  “Don’t,” he protested. “She won’t understand.”

  For several minutes, Willow tried to get a picture of the dress but failed to get a good one. “Well, that’s the best I can do. Your mom’s calling. I need to go.”

  “Bye.” Chad clicked open the picture and smiled. “I can’t wait to see it in person,” he murmured to himself.

  Steven Solari’s pocket buzzed. He glanced at the name on the phone and answered. “Yes.”

  “I thought you would want to know; there’s a party going on in a bridal boutique on Oakland.”

  “Bridal?”

  “I got a picture. I’m sending it.”

  The picture on the screen alarmed him. “Who’s the one holding the sides?”

  “Kari.”

  “What!” Blood rushed to Solari’s temples as he drew rapid breaths.

  “The owner of that store. Don’t know her last name but she’s Kari something.”

  “Why is she trying on wedding dresses?” Solari swore. “That cop! It’s gotta be that cop.”

  Tyler didn’t like the sound of Solari’s voice. “What do I do?”

  “Nothing. Make sure she gets home ok, and see if she buys it or if she’s just looking for something else for that ball. This has color on it so maybe—”

  “Yes sir.”

  Steve stared at the phone in his hands. Tyler had disconnected the call before he could hear any more. Steve grinned. Tyler knew that to stay in Steve’s good graces he had to follow orders and hear nothing he wasn’t intended to hear.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Friday Willow awoke to a house all to herself again and enough work to keep her busy for weeks. She hadn’t felt so wonderful in ages. Seedlings sprouted in the greenhouse, chicks grew in the barn, and invitations blossomed under her fingertips.

  Several hours into her day’s work, she pulled out her mother’s journals to make sure she hadn’t missed anything during her week of company. Her mother’s February lists were now incomplete with the work in the greenhouse, and she’d missed the hallway scrubbing but otherwise, she was almost caught up and it felt good. By Monday, she’d be on track again.