by Cindy Stark
Hazel nodded in agreement.
“Fiona planned Gwen’s wedding a few months back, before you arrived. Gwen had gained a few pounds between trying on her dress and the day of the wedding. When Gwen put on the dress, and it didn’t fit, she panicked. I mean totally freaked out.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Well, Fiona stepped in to save the day and let out a seam. Gwen opted to not wear a bra to give her even more room.”
Hazel sucked in a breath, fearing where this conversation might head.
Margaret must have caught the look on her face because she nodded. “Yep. That’s right. They’d taken their vows. Gwen lifted her arms to place them around his neck for the kiss, and rip….” She screeched the last word.
As much as Hazel didn’t approve of Gwen’s behavior today, compassion for the poor woman flooded her. “Oh, no. How horrible.”
“The guests got an eyeful, and Gwen ran to the dressing room and wouldn’t come out for the whole reception. She believes Fiona should have known the thin threads of the remaining seam wouldn’t hold, and she won’t forgive her.”
Hazel lifted her eyebrows and let them drop. What a mess. “Maybe she will now that she’s gotten her revenge?”
Margaret snorted, the sound not matching her demure outfit. “Doubtful.”
Her friend stood. “Enough of that. Let’s go congratulate the couple.”
Two
During the ceremony, decorators had finished the transformation of the back garden of the church, leaving Hazel to feel as though she’d stepped into a fairytale setting. A huge full moon hovered directly above them. Tiny white lights and pink lanterns floated through the trees and over the tables.
Creamy lace lay atop soft pink tablecloths, and the clusters of tiny pink roses, elegant white roses and baby’s breath drew the eye to the centers of the tables and added to the charming look.
Margaret released a dreamy sigh as they neared Hazel’s tea station. “This is incredible. I feel like we’re in a different world.”
From the sounds of others passing by, many agreed. “A wedding planner’s wedding should be the highlight of the season, I’d think.”
Hazel slipped behind the waist-high table, while Margaret stepped up to be her first patron. “Tell me what delicious concoctions you’ve created for us this time.”
She grinned, proud of the latest, spiked iced teas she’d crafted specifically for this event. “Something yummy. I have my new pineberry bush tea or original iced tea with lemon and then a couple of fruit-infused alcohol-spiked iced teas.”
Margaret placed the back of her gloved hand on her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “Please, give me something spiked. I’ll need it to deal with my sister.”
Hazel chuckled. “In that case, I have a sweet tea made from orange pekoe and golden rum, and then another I specifically designed with the couple in mind, a lovely hibiscus tea and blueberry vodka combination.”
“Give me the hibiscus and blueberry. Sounds divine.”
Hazel added a scoop of ice to one of the tall, thin glasses provided to her and poured the purplish concoction over it.
Margaret took a sip and smiled. “Peter’s going to be mad he missed this.”
She gave her a disappointed look. “That’s what happens when you’re the big boss and the town needs you.”
“Pfft. The man thinks the operation won’t run unless he’s there, and he works harder than he needs to.” She pointed a finger at Hazel. “You should work on fixing that.”
A bubble of happiness burst inside her. She liked knowing that he was hers to fix. Whether she could or not was another matter, but he was hers. “I’ll get right on that.”
Margaret held up her glass in a mock toast, and the D.J. opened with an upbeat, love song that filled the air with a lively energy. “Here’s to family. Wish me luck,” she said over the music.
Hazel smiled as Margaret walked away. From day one, she’d liked Margaret and understood why Peter did, too, even though she sassed him. She was a good lady.
As someone approached, Hazel shifted her gaze in that direction. Her smile dropped to a dull frown.
Victor strode toward her, looking every inch the sexy, bad boy, dressed to the nines in an Armani suit, his smile bright enough to heat the northern hemisphere.
“Hello, goddess.” He sidled up next to her and traced her with a slow, lazy gaze, from bare shoulders to the tips of her pink-polished toes, an action that used to set her on fire. “What do they call that color you’re wearing? Fuchsia?”
She’d fallen in love with the flirty dress when she’d lived in Boston. But now she wished she hadn’t worn it.
She kept her tone monotonous. “Yes, Victor. It’s fuchsia.”
He tilted his head to the side and glanced over her again. “It does amazing things for your—”
“Thank you, Victor. But I didn’t wear this dress for you, so stop looking.”
He glanced across the crowd of guests. “I don’t see that drip you’re dating in the vicinity. You look lonely.”
Someone give her patience. “Peter is at work, and I’m quite fine, Victor. Not lonely at all. When did you say you were headed back to Boston?”
He lifted a corner of his mouth into a sexy grin. “Not yet. I find that I’m enjoying this quaint town. The people are genuine, if not enlightened.”
She couldn’t disagree with that. “Perhaps you’d like a drink, and then you can go mingle with all your new friends.”
His gaze drifted to her cleavage and then back to her face. “Perhaps I would. What do you have?”
“You don’t seem like the hibiscus-blueberry type of person, so you can have the orange rum one.”
He seemed agreeable to that, so she poured him a glass. He sipped and nodded, and a couple stepped up behind him.
Hazel pointed to them. “I have others I need to take care of.”
He glanced over the crowd. “Same. Catch you later.” He sauntered off as if he owned the world.
Her employee, Gretta, would arrive to help serve the guests after she closed the teashop for the evening. In the meantime, her younger, blonder sister, Katie had offered to man the station with Hazel, and she was grateful for the extra pair of hands.
An hour later, the party was in full swing, and Gretta had joined them as well to help serve the guests. Many had indulged in several glasses of spiked ice tea or the champagne also offered, leaving the evening atmosphere full of high energy.
The waxing gibbous moon’s presence increased the intensity.
From Hazel’s point of view, it appeared the bride had left behind the residual stress from the ceremony, laughing and dancing with her husband on their magical night.
Hazel shifted her gaze across the crowd and found the three bridezillas sulking at a table near the dance floor. They shot visual daggers at Fiona who didn’t seem to notice. Margaret was nowhere to be found.
Hazel turned to Gretta and Katie. “I’m going to take a break and visit with some friends.”
Gretta, looking smart in a tuxedo-inspired outfit assured her with a nod and shooed her away. “Got this covered, boss. Go have some fun.”
Hazel paused to load a tray with four spiked iced teas and made her way to the bridezilla table. “You all look like you could use a drink.”
Gwen gave her a half-smile as she accepted a glass of the orange-rum tea. “You’re Margaret’s friend, right?”
“That’s right. I’m Hazel. I know your name is Gwen, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your friends.”
Gwen pointed toward the slender one with light brown hair. Her features were plain, but she had a pleasant spirit. “I’d like you to meet, Carol.”
Then she turned her finger toward the one with the stunning red dress and a sassy spirit to match. “And Sondra.”
Hazel met their gazes with a friendly smile. She slid into a vacant chair and took the remaining glass of tea.
Sondra lifted her glass. “These are amazing.
Margaret said you make them from scratch.”
She nodded. “I handcraft all my teas. You should stop into my shop sometime.”
“Maybe next time we visit,” Carol said. “We’re from Salem and don’t plan on spending the night.”
“Salem,” Hazel said with a nod. “You must be friends of Fiona’s?”
All three of them snorted or groaned in disagreement at Hazel’s trigger question. Sondra wagged a finger at Hazel. “Don’t ever call that piece of trash my friend.”
Hazel raised surprised, but not necessarily shocked, brows. “That seems a bit harsh, especially considering you’re at her wedding.”
Carol drained her glass and set it on the table hard enough to be heard over the DJ’s voice as he announced the next song. “Considering she swindled me out of the down payment on my house, I don’t think that’s harsh at all.”
This time Hazel was shocked. “She did?”
Carol nodded.
Sondra pointed toward the dancing couple. “Do you see that groom over there?”
It was hard to miss him. “Yes.”
“Three months ago, we were engaged to be married, and Fiona was helping to plan our wedding.” Her voice hitched. “At least until she slept with my fiancé.”
Gwen sent her a consoling look. “If that’s the kind of man he is, you wouldn’t want him anyway.”
“That’s right,” Carol added. “He’ll probably cheat on her, too. And when she’s wallowing in her tears, she’ll know that’s the same pain she caused you.”
Sondra sniffed. “I’d rather have her cheat on him so he knows how it feels to be betrayed.”
Funny how Hazel had a completely different opinion of the three women than from earlier in the day. “Be patient. Karma will get them. Always does.”
Sondra wiped tears from her eyes and nodded.
Gwen gave her a dry look. “I’m sure you’ve already heard about my fiasco.”
Hazel wanted to deny it to allow the woman to save face but couldn’t lie. Instead, she sent her a commiserating look and nodded.
“See?” Gwen said, throwing her hands up in the air. “I will never live that down.”
Sondra half-laughed and half-cried. “At least you have a nice set of knockers to show off.”
Carol agreed with a nod. “And you’re not broke and still living with your new husband at your controlling mother’s house.”
Hazel could imagine that one all too well. “Ouch. Not the best for a newlywed couple.”
Carol snorted. “No. I just pray he won’t divorce me before we can save up enough money to get out of there. Fiona took every dime we’d saved for our house.”
Sondra stood and wiped at the watery black streaks trailing down her cheeks. “I need to check my face.”
She strode across the grass with slumped shoulders and pain radiating from her aura. But her friends were right. She was better off without him.
Fiona was starting to sound more and more like a selfish, cruel person. That or a complete idiot with no morals.
Hazel leaned in. “I have to tell you. I overheard you during the ceremony talking about her veil and shoes. You took them? And itching powder?”
The two women shared a glance, and then Carol met her gaze. “I’m not saying we did or didn’t, but if we managed to make her day as miserable as she made ours, she deserved it.”
Gwen flicked a finger toward Fiona and her stolen groom. “Problem is she doesn’t look miserable.”
Hazel wanted to give them all a big hug. “That’s why it’s best to let Karma handle matters. You all need to focus on healing yourselves and moving forward.”
Carol shook her head. “Even if she’s over it now, I still say it was worth it.”
Gwen snickered. “Did you see how many times she tried to sneak a scratch on her boobs?”
They shared a laugh. So much for them listening to her advice. Still, Hazel knew if they supported each other that way, they’d be okay in the end.
Her tablemate’s gazes all flew to just beyond her shoulder, and she sensed Victor before he said a word.
“Hey, goddess. How about a dance?”
“Goddess?” Gwen murmured with longing in her voice. “I want someone to call me goddess.”
Hazel gritted her teeth and turned toward him. “No, thank you.”
The bridezillas gaped at her like she was crazy.
“Come on. It’s just a dance.”
“No.”
He grinned. “I guess I could sit with you instead and fill these lovely ladies in on the details about our sordid past.”
“Oooh?” Gwen sounded intrigued. Carol watched them with an interested gaze.
“We have no sordid past, Victor. Go away.”
He placed a warm hand on her bare shoulder, and it was all she could do to not cause a scene. “What about the time we—”
“Fine.” She stood abruptly. “One dance, and then you leave.”
Pure male satisfaction poured from him, and she wanted to punch him in the nose. “One dance. For now.” He winked at the ladies as they walked away.
Hazel wanted to tell Gwen she’d gladly flash a crowd if it meant she’d never have to see Victor again. She didn’t know if she could actually go through with it, but it was worth considering.
He led her to the dancing area and wrapped a firm hand around her waist. Stirrings of their past love flitted through her, and she squashed them. She reminded herself she’d been in love with the idea of him, the outside as she’d explained to Cora. Not the rotten inside.
A bee whizzed past her, catching her attention not only because she rarely saw them flying during the evening hours, but also because of the speed it jetted through the crowd.
Someone yelped, and she drew her brows together in shock. She couldn’t see who’d cried out, but she’d swear that bee had been on a mission and had succeeded.
Very odd.
Victor gave her a wistful smile as their bodies moved together. “You really are a beautiful woman, Hazel.”
“And you are a cad, Victor.”
He grinned. “I like it when the fire in you stirs.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m more in tune with the earth. Not fire.”
“You can’t lie to me, Hazel.” He twirled her before their bodies met again. “I’ve seen your fire.”
The best man spoke loudly into the microphone, cutting the dance short. “Ladies and gentlemen. Can I have your attention? I’d like to make a toast to the happy couple.”
Hazel slipped from Victor’s arms. “Looks like I’m needed. Bye.” She strode toward the tea station and didn’t look back.
The guests quieted down as they lifted their glasses. The groom joined the best man where he stood next to the DJ. Both men glanced across the crowd.
The best man lifted the microphone to his lips as Hazel stepped in beside Gretta. “Fiona? Where are you?”
His words screeched through the speakers, and Hazel and Gretta both grimaced.
Gretta bumped her elbow and leaned close. “Someone needs to take that away from him before he shatters our eardrums.”
Hazel agreed with a nod. “He’s indulged in one too many drinks and probably has no clue how loud he is.”
They both chuckled.
The groom took control of the microphone. “Fiona, love?” He glanced over the crowd. “Has anyone seen my wife?”
Fiona’s mother lifted a hand and stood from a table near the front. “She went to the ladies’ room a bit ago. Let me check on her.”
The funny, somewhat round lady that Hazel had met earlier waddled toward the church’s open doors.
“Bad timing,” Gretta whispered.
Hazel nodded and hoped the three bridezillas hadn’t somehow slipped Fiona laxatives, too.
Several moments passed while the crowd waited. Then a piercing scream ripped through the soft evening air, sending everyone into a panic. The groom shoved off from the best man and ran toward the church.
Haz
el should have stayed where she was and minded her own business but couldn’t. “I’m going to see.”
Gretta gripped her elbow and followed. “Me, too.”
Before they and several others reached the door, the groom reappeared, his face paler than moonlight mist, his features etched with shock.
“Call for help! Fiona’s dead!”
Three
Hazel and Gretta made their way inside while they waited for the summoned emergency services to arrive. She’d wanted to see Peter this evening, to show off her fun dress, but not this way.
They followed the sounds of distress and found Mrs. Hofstetter crumpled on the floor and wailing next to her lifeless daughter. She gripped her with a possessive hand and bawled into her silk dress.
The bride’s new husband sat on the other side, holding her hand and stroking her cheek. Rivers of grief rolled down his face as he stared at the woman who’d been his bride for mere hours. He shook his head repeatedly but didn’t mutter a word or look up at them.
Incredible sadness enveloped Hazel like a cloak, making her feel as though she, too, might die, and she took a step back.
The sound of sirens screaming through the night brought her little relief. The pain from this death would go on for a long, long time for these poor people.
Mrs. Hofstetter shifted, and Hazel’s gaze zeroed in on the vivid red and purple marks on Fiona’s neck. She gasped and quickly put a hand to her mouth to cover it. Gretta shot her a concerned look.
Hazel slid her thumb and fingers around her own throat and then stuck out her tongue as though choking. Gretta glanced toward Fiona’s body. When her eyes widened, Hazel knew she’d noticed the same.
Gretta gave her a soft nudge and discreetly pointed toward the crumpled veil that lay not far from Fiona.
Hazel lifted her brows in a silent question, asking if that’s what might have strangled Fiona. Gretta gave a small shrug.
Commotion in the halls signaled that the authorities were on the scene. Several of Peter’s officers entered the room, bringing a rush of energy, and scanned it for a quick assessment. Peter walked in right behind them.
Hazel hurried to his side and leaned close to his ear to whisper. “I believe she’s been murdered. You might want to have your men keep anyone from leaving.”
