by Adrianne Lee
Gram picked up the cold cups of coffee. “Whitey, why don’t you and I fetch some fresh java while Susan finishes with that call?”
“Sure, Billie.” He held his arm out to her, an old-fashioned gesture that Gram ate up.
“Come with me.” Seth led me into the hall and out of CCU, his arm around my shoulders.
“Where are we going, Quinlan?” Not that I cared. At that moment, I’d go anywhere he wanted.
“You’ll see.”
An elevator ride later, we were in Troy’s room. Meg and Sheriff Gooden were there. My best friend winked at me, as if what we’d all been through at the hands of a crazy woman was a walk in the park. But I noticed she stood at the head of Troy’s bed, a hand on his upper arm. Something about her was different. It took me a moment to figure it out. Was that empowerment I saw twinkling in her big green eyes? Oh my God, it was. I felt a smile go all through me. My Meg was back.
But why did that make me want to cry? I mean, what did I expect? She’d been a hero, literally saving the day and my life. Probably all of our lives. I supposed that would definitely give somebody a large dose of self-confidence. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d been needing that more than Meg. I returned the wink.
Nothing beats a best friend—except maybe a good man.
“You deserve to hear this, too, Daryl Anne,” Troy said, his usually deep voice an octave higher. Probably pain meds. He gestured to the sheriff. “Okay, go on.”
“Her real name,” Sheriff Gooden said, checking a notepad, “is Cassandra Renee Wallace, but she goes by Cassie. According to the proprietor of the Veiled Bride in Portland, she worked at the store during the same time as Jenny Carson did. At first, Cassie seemed normal, but then she started to obsess about Jenny. She began dressing like her, got the same hairstyle, the same phone cover. The same everything.
“Apparently, Cassie was dumped by this Brad guy but was stalking him. Cassie blamed Jenny for the breakup, even though Jenny and Brad didn’t meet until several months later. The day of Jenny and Brad’s wedding, Cassie was caught trying to kill Jenny. Cassie ended up in Western State Hospital.”
“How did she get from there to Weddingville?” Meg asked.
“She was recently accidentally released via clerical error,” the sheriff said.
“She seemed so normal,” Meg said.
Sheriff Gooden scratched his head as if it didn’t make any sense whatsoever to him. But then, I supposed, he’d heard a lot of crazy things in his time in law enforcement. This was just one more. He said, “The department shrink says she could function normally because she was playing a role, the role of Jenny Carson, whose naval officer fiancé is deployed overseas, whose family lives in Gig Harbor, whose mother-in-law wants her to wear the hand-me-down wedding gown.”
“Is the real Jenny Carson okay?” I asked, the horrific scene in the bridal shop still too vivid.
Troy said, “Yeah. She and Brad were married last year. He’s stateside, stationed on the East Coast now.”
Out of harm’s way. Unlike Hannah. I prayed the surgery was going well.
“I don’t get why she stole all those things,” Meg said.
I knew the answer to that, thanks to my cousin. “She couldn’t afford to pay for a wedding. She was ‘borrowing’ things to have the wedding she wanted.”
Meg shook her head, pity in her eyes. “Why did she kill Willa Bridezilla?”
Sheriff Gooden cleared his throat. “Her doctor wouldn’t give me any specifics about her delusions. Confidentiality and all. But the department shrink has a theory. He thinks when Cassie learned that Dillon dumped Lisa Marie for Willa, it triggered a new bout of psycho-something. Madness. It was so close to what had happened to her that in her mixed-up mind, she was being given a second chance to change the outcome. Willa needed to die. Dillon needed to realize he still loved Lisa Marie.”
“Then why did she frame Lisa Marie?” I leaned back against Seth, my knees still a little shaky.
“This is where the new fantasy ran afoul of the original one. In real life, Cassie had been caught and locked away. In the new fantasy, Lisa Marie had taken on the role of Cassie. So Lisa Marie had to be caught and punished.”
“And that meant there was no more Cassie, only Jenny, who was going to marry Brad,” Troy said.
And she still thinks she’s Jenny, I thought, shuddering. “How did Hannah become involved?”
Troy leaned back against the pillow, looking about done in. He nuzzled Meg’s hand. “Hannah found a lot of the stolen items from around town hidden in a box in the warehouse. She was going to show me last night. She got to the bridal shop before I did and caught Jenny setting up the salon for her ‘perfect’ wedding. If you’d arrived any later, she might not have made it. How’s she doing?”
I checked my phone for a text, but so far nothing. I didn’t know if that was good news or bad. “Still in surgery, I think.”
The room was silent a moment; then Troy said, “When I arrived, Cassie caught me off guard, knocked me out. I didn’t wake up until I was in the ambulance.”
“Be glad.” I wished I could erase the memory.
“Are you kidding!” Meg said. “You missed the best part. Me taking down that crazy bride with my new stun gun contraption. I was awesome.”
“My hero,” I said, meaning it.
“My love,” Troy said, grinning at Meg. “Damn, I’d liked to have seen that.”
“Hey,” Seth said, “I think you can. That new security system Whitey put in will have recorded the whole thing.”
“We’ll need to see that,” Sheriff Gooden said. “Evidence for the trial.”
“Sheriff,” Meg said, “about a certain ring that’s stuck in the evidence room…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’ve been to weddings that took years to plan, weddings that took nine months to plan, and weddings that took only weeks. But this is the first time I’ve attended or been part of a wedding that took mere days to put together.
“Perfection is overrated,” Meg said. “Getting married is not about the wedding.”
“It’s not?” Could’ve fooled me. But then, since all things bridal were my forte these days, I was prejudiced.
“Nope.” She shook her head, her fiery curls bouncing across her shoulders.
I’d thought Meg was beautiful the day she’d been going to marry Peter, but I was wrong. Today, she was like no one I’d ever seen before. And I’d seen some stunning actresses in L.A. But she was more gorgeous than words could express. The beauty wasn’t only in the makeup, or the artfully done hair, or even the crimson slippers. There was a glow about her that was coming from inside, straight from a joyful heart.
I checked my own reflection in the mirror, liking the summery-blue maid-of-honor dress I wore. It seemed to brighten my eyes. I asked, “So, are you going to tell me what a wedding is about or not?”
“The marriage.” She smiled a secret smile. “It’s about life after the honeymoon. You don’t need the most expensive gown, the biggest diamond, or to spend more than a house costs for a celebration.”
“That’s good to know, since I won’t likely ever have that kind of money.”
“You just need to find the right partner.”
“And that’s what you’ve done?” My doubts about Troy and Meg hadn’t totally vanished. A tiny niggling doubt remained. I supposed because she hadn’t out-and-out admitted that she totally trusted him yet.
“I’ve been so uncertain these last couple of months that I’m sure I’ve driven you as nuts as I’ve driven myself. But when I saw Troy unconscious and bleeding, I realized I couldn’t live without him.”
“You trust him, then?” I asked the hard question because that’s what best friends do.
“Better. I trust me again.” She laughed.
I joined in. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to ruin our makeup.” We shared a hand squeeze. “No tears either.”
“It’s okay. I used smudge-proof mascara.”
I felt a happy tear slip down my cheek. “Smudge-proof blusher, too?”
We laughed again.
A rap on the door. Meg’s dad said, “It’s time.”
The whole town turned out, everyone except Hannah, who was still recovering and unable to leave her bed. There was standing room only in the church. Flora had come up with an array of blossoms that gave the chapel the look and feel of a summer garden in high bloom. Troy’s dad was his best man, father and son as dashingly handsome as Hollywood leading men in black tuxedoes with sky-blue ties and cummerbunds.
Seth was taking photos, wearing his usual white dress shirt and suit pants with cameras for accessories. To me, he took top prize for best-looking male. Those chocolate eyes, that crooked grin, that giving heart. I won’t lie. I might be prejudiced. I’d seen him naked, after all.
He stood near the entrance, capturing with his lens the moment the maid of honor started down the aisle, giving me a nod of approval that had my toes curling. As I stepped to the wedding march, he turned his attention to the bride and her father.
My best friend was getting married. It had never seemed so true or right as it did now, and my heart filled with delight.
Everyone in the chapel rose.
When the vows were said and Reverend Bell pronounced Troy and Meg husband and wife, the audience erupted with cheers. If ever a union was blessed, it was this one. The citizens of Weddingville had anticipated this event from the time these two were teenagers. The joyous wishes kept coming all through the reception.
The Gossip Sisters informed Seth that they wanted copies of the photos he was taking, even if they had to pay for them.
Lisa Marie showed up with a date, a Seattle businessman who bore no resemblance to the king of rock and roll. Just as well, since Dillon was doing an Elvis song or two from his routine later in the evening.
As toasts were given, I glanced at Meg’s hand curled around the champagne glass. I imagined Granny O was smiling down on her great-grandson and his bride this day, knowing theirs would be a long and happy union, now that the ruby ring was where it belonged. On Meg’s finger.
“A nickel for your thoughts, Blessing.”
I slipped into Seth’s arms with an ease that I no longer even questioned. “I was just thinking about something my best friend said to me earlier.” The important thing is the marriage. You just need the right partner.
He held me close, swaying to the music, his gaze locked on mine. “Something you can share?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Really? Someday? I bet I could get it out of you tonight.”
I chuckled. “There’s only one way you can finagle this out of me, Quinlan.”
He bent close, his lips grazing my temple, his grin so sexy my insides began to melt. He whispered something naughty in my ear. “Is that the way?”
I blushed. “You’re on the right path…”
He whispered something even more blush-worthy. “How about that?”
“Maybe…” Oh, who was I fooling? I couldn’t pull off mysterious. Not with this face. I gave in, planting a kiss on his delicious lips. “How soon is too soon for the maid of honor to leave the reception?”
THE END
THANK YOU
Gail Fortune—I could not have imagined, when we first met, that years later you would be the person I can always count on to have my back. Fate drew us together, but respect and caring have woven a strong bond between us. Thank you for being my friend and for being the best agent I could ever want.
Alex Logan—I love that we share a love of cats and romantic mysteries. I am grateful every day for your red pencil, for your sense of humor, and for your hard work above and beyond on my behalf. I know I’m repeating myself, but the universe really did smile on me the day you became my editor. Thank you for always making this journey easier.
Karen Papandrew—your belief in me is more appreciated than I can put into words. Your loyalty and encouragement have seen me through some pretty tough times, and I thank you so much for caring about me no matter what. You define the word friend.
Larry and the two cats, Fuzzy and Spooky—for providing cheap entertainment.
Also by Adrianne Lee
A Wedding to Die For
* * *
The Big Sky Pie series
Delectable
Delicious
Delightful
Decadent
Did you miss Daryl Anne Blessing’s first story?
See the next page for an excerpt from A Wedding to Die For.
CHAPTER ONE
The body came in on the noon tide just as the beach wedding reached a critical moment.
* * *
Three Days Before the Wedding
“Daryl Anne Blessing, you are the most wonderful maid of honor a bride could ask for,” sobbed my best friend Meg Reilly.
Tears poured from her eyes like spring runoff from Mount Rainier as Meg collapsed in my arms. I staggered back, almost falling down the steps of the motel cottage, shock rippling through me. The paramount duty of a maid of honor is to keep the bride emotionally calm. Until this moment, I thought I was doing that.
Until this moment, I would have agreed with her praise of my maid of honor prowess. My short, black hair and blue eyes—the colors of a dark, calm sea—define my penchant for planning, organizing, and keeping everything on an even keel, and are the perfect foil to Meg’s long fiery hair, flashing green eyes, and propensity for spur-of-the-moment chaos.
The sunny May day promised a warm afternoon, but at 7:00 a.m. in this small seaside town on Puget Sound, the temperature hovered around thirty-nine degrees. Meg was barefoot, her robe knee-length. I eased her out of the cold, damp morning air and back into the room that looked like a cheap Vegas wedding suite.
Possible causes for Meg’s meltdown ran through my mind as I shut the door. Wedding gown, shoes, veil—ordered, arrived, fitting later today. Check. Bridesmaid’s dresses, shoes, jewelry—all distributed. Check. My outfit. Check. Bridal shower—last weekend. Check. Bachelorette party. Tonight. Hmmm. Had the stripper canceled?
No. Wait. Meg said I was wonderful. That meant something else. Something… good? Then why the waterworks? “What’s happened?”
Meg released me, sniffling. “She’s coming.”
If Meg had stabbed me, I would have been less stunned. My heart sank. Of all things good I could imagine happening to, or for, my best friend, her coming to the wedding was not one of them. God knows, I had nothing to do with it. I’d tried every argument I could think of to talk Meg out of inviting her.
I foresaw nothing but disaster in this news. I couldn’t allow that. I had to minimize potential damage, but first I’d need more details, and as long as Meg was sobbing, I wouldn’t get any.
My gaze raced around the compact room, my vision bombarded by every possible honeymooning couple’s fantasy. Hearts and flowers and linked golden bands. Everywhere. I spied a box of tissues on the nightstand and handed one to Meg. I plastered on a smile. The maid of honor’s number one job is to keep the bride emotionally calm. That meant keeping my opinion to myself. “Why are you crying? This is happy news, right?”
Meg daubed at her watery, green eyes, shoved her mop of long, red curls from her splotched face, and offered me a wobbly smile. “I know you’re afraid she’ll hurt me again, but it felt wrong not to invite her. After all, she’s my mother.”
Who ran out on you and your dad when you were eleven! I was there. I’d witnessed the broken child struggling to understand why her mother didn’t want her. I hated that Meg struggled still with that sense of being unwanted that had shaped so many of her life choices.
I lost my dad the same year her mother left, and now a memory swept back. I’d escaped his funeral and its aftermath by stealing away to my favorite spot at the end of the dock. Seagulls cried overhead as though they shared my grief. Meg found me, sat down, and offered me candy and condolences. I’d thanked her, shared a long moment of silence, and then I’d turn
ed to her and said, “You understand, don’t you?”
We were at that awkward age, little girls not quite preteens, naïve about so many things. And yet there lurked something in Meg’s eyes that was too wise for her years. “You mean ’cause we’ve both lost a parent? Yeah, it makes us the same.”
I’d taken her hand, glad of her friendship, but intent on correcting her perception. “Not exactly the same. Your mom can always come home.”
“No,” she’d said, dead certainty in the word. “She won’t. But if your dad could come back he would. He loved you.”
She’d been right about her mother. Tanya had never come home. Never phoned. Never written. But now the bitch was coming to her wedding? My heart wrenched. Even though I wanted to shout down the rafters, my best friend needed me to set aside my animosity and put a positive spin on this. I firmed up my smile, but not one supportive word choked from my constricted throat.
“Every girl wants her mother at her wedding,” Meg said, snuffling. “You’d want Susan at yours.”
Yes, but I wasn’t getting married. I wasn’t even dating. And my mom wasn’t a lying, cheating, family-deserting bitch on wheels. A widow for fifteen years, my mom still lived with her mother-in-law. My parental units put a premium on loyalty. As did I.
As did Meg.
I sighed inwardly. She needed my support now, not bawled out. I summoned courage. Fortitude. A best friend’s twin superpowers at times like these. “As long as you’re happy, Meg, I’m happy for you.”
“Really?” Her smile was crooked and instantly endearing.
“Pinkie swear.” We hooked little fingers as we’d been doing since grade school, then crossed our hearts to seal the deal.
