At that moment, Kevin stood, grabbed a chair and carried it to the middle of the dance floor. With the expression of a man going to his execution, he seated his bride, removed her garter to a chorus of ribald comments and tossed the lacy wisp to his best man. Linda’s smile faltered as she observed the grim set of her new husband’s face.
Once the best man had the garter in hand, Kevin pointed to the deejay, who cued a drumroll, and Kevin held up his hands for silence. Kevin’s sisters in their plum bridesmaid gowns rose from their seats and removed baskets from beneath the draped table. Each basket was loaded with identical small flat packages, wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with black ribbons.
“Before my blushing bride tosses her bouquet,” Kevin said, smiling now, “I have a present for each of you. Since the presents are identical and intended as a surprise, I ask that you wait until each guest has a package before you open yours.”
Murmurs of speculation and appreciation sounded among the guests. The Baker sisters quickly distributed a gift to each guest, including the parents at the head table. Mrs. Baker beamed at her children. She might not have liked Kevin’s choice for a bride, but she was unquestionably proud of her offspring. Mrs. Burns, on the other hand, was three sheets to the wind and downing another glass of champagne.
“Do you all have a gift?” Kevin asked.
“Yes!” the crowd responded with the enthusiasm of the festive and well-liquored.
“Then open,” Kevin called.
Antonio and I had inched toward the table closest to us to look over the shoulders of the guests as they stripped the wrappings off their gifts.
A collective gasp went up across the room. At the head table, Mrs. Baker fainted, and Mrs. Burns swore like a sailor.
The gifts were identical photographs of Linda Burns and the best man, sprawled in flagrante delicto across the tousled sheets of a queen bed in a room that was obviously a motel.
“As you can see,” Kevin announced in the hush that had descended on the room, “my lovely bride has the morals of a slut. And my best man had no qualms about screwing his best friend’s fiancée.” He turned to Linda, who stood open-mouthed, her bouquet dangling from her fingers. “My attorney will contact you in the morning to annul this fiasco.”
Before anyone could react, Kevin turned on his heel and strode out of the banquet room, throwing open the double doors until they banged against the wall and making his exit with panache.
I caught Bill’s eye, and he nodded.
“Oh my God,” Antonio groaned.
“Time for plan B,” I assured him and, in concert with Bill, Adler, Ralph and Abe, swung into action as all hell broke loose.
EPILOGUE
Two hours later, Bill and I sat on the rear deck of the Ten-Ninety-Eight, drinks in hand, Roger curled in my lap.
“That went well,” Bill said.
“Unless you were Linda Burns.” Her wedding, as her mother had unwittingly predicted, had gone off without a “hitch.”
“I’d say she had it coming.”
“What I can’t figure,” I said, “is why Kevin went through the motions of a wedding when he was planning all along to have the marriage annulled.”
Bill chuckled. “The photos were the knife in the back. The bride’s family having to pay for the wedding and reception was the final twist. Not only was Linda humiliated in front of her family and friends, her parents are out several thousand dollars they wouldn’t otherwise have spent.”
“At least Antonio’s happy. He has his banquet fee and his ballroom still intact.”
Bill sipped his beer. “I hate to think what would have happened if we hadn’t been there.”
But we had been there, and our contingency plan had worked smoothly. Bill and Adler had whisked the Baker family into Bill’s SUV and driven them off, stopping by the emergency room to have Mrs. Baker checked by a doctor after her fainting spell before depositing them at Kevin’s apartment. Bill had suggested they spend the night there to give the Burnses time to cool down. And sober up.
Abe and Ralph had corralled the Burnses into the limousine, which was supposed to have taken the happy couple to the airport for their honeymoon but instead drove the entire family to their house on Pineland Circle.
At Sophia’s, Antonio had offered the remaining guests drinks on the house; the deejay had cued up some happy tunes, and I’d stayed to supervise in case someone decided to get rowdy.
Bill laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“Those two families still have to live next to each other.”
“Maybe this will convince one of them to move.”
“Or escalate the warfare.”
“Not our problem,” I said with satisfaction. “The sheriff’s finest can deal with the Burns-Baker feud from now on.”
Bill reached over and took my hand. “I’m glad we’re not having a big wedding.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Something quiet and intimate suits us better.”
I squeezed his hand. In spite of the fiasco I’d witnessed at Sophia’s, my attitude toward marriage had mellowed. The prospect of exchanging vows with Bill brought waves of pleasure instead of a cold sweat.
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait until Valentine’s Day,” I said and meant it.
Bill tried but couldn’t quite cover his surprise. “When did you have in mind?”
“Let’s get the house furnished first,” I said. “Then as soon as we’re married, we’ll have a gathering there for our closest friends.”
“And your mother?”
“I’ll suggest she hold a small reception at the Yacht Club for her friends. That will please her. Any objections?”
In the glow of the marina lights, he flashed his crooked smile. “Can I get this in writing?”
“You afraid I’ll lose my nerve?”
“You have expressed reservations in the past,” he reminded me.
I placed Roger atop a cushion on the deck, slid onto Bill’s lap and draped my arms around his neck.
“All gone,” I said, “and—”
I was going to explain further, but the impact of his kiss derailed my train of thought.
WEDDING BELL BLUES
copyright © 2006 by Charlotte H. Douglas
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3600-4
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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