Hitched

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Down in the kitchen, Tracy’s parents were having breakfast. Ellen was perfectly dressed and made-up. She wouldn’t be caught dead lounging around in an old bathrobe. As usual, she greeted Catherine with a big smile. “Did you girls have fun last night?”

  “We tried. I’m on a caffeine patrol,” Catherine answered. “We’ll help Tracy ease into the day with a cup of coffee.”

  “Catherine Heaney, Tracy couldn’t have a better friend than you,” Montgomery proclaimed. He loved to call people by their first and last names.

  “She’s my best friend and doesn’t deserve to be treated like this by that creep.”

  “She doesn’t,” Ellen agreed. “But I’m afraid we have a new problem.”

  “What?” Catherine asked with alarm.

  Ellen opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink, pulled out the New York Post, and held it up. “They printed Tracy’s name. And it’s been announced on television. Several reporters have already called the house asking for a comment. We’ve told them the truth—Tracy’s asleep.”

  Catherine’s mouth nearly hit the floor. “This is exactly what Tracy was afraid of.”

  “We know,” Tracy’s parents said in unison.

  Catherine took a deep breath. Then another. Finally she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Timber, the four of us upstairs have been together for twelve years. During that time we’ve been through thick and thin. I’ll break it to Tracy for you. Between us, we’ll come up with a graceful way for Tracy to handle this. She’ll be fine.”

  Ellen hugged Catherine. They assembled a tray with a coffeepot filled to the brim with steaming fresh java, four mugs, milk, sugar, and Tracy’s favorite croissants, which her father had run out and bought early in the morning.

  Catherine put both hands around the tray. The copy of the New York Post was under her arm. “Tracy’s a big girl,” she said as she headed out of the room. “She’ll be just fine.”

  “She’s a Timber,” Montgomery agreed.

  About a minute and a half later, Tracy’s bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house. “I’ll sue him!” she cried.

  Tracy’s parents looked at each other.

  “That’s our daughter,” Montgomery said matter-of-factly.

  Ellen nodded. “Would you like another cup of coffee, dear?”

  49

  The Reillys’ family room in Summit, New Jersey, was an extension of their large open kitchen. Nora and Luke were relaxing on one of the overstuffed couches, the Sunday newspapers in front of them. They’d watched Regan on the morning show and then turned on a classical music station.

  They knew that they’d hear from Regan when she had a chance to call.

  “I somehow didn’t think this was the way we’d be spending the Sunday morning before Regan’s wedding,” Nora said. “Watching our daughter on television talking about her stolen wedding dress.”

  Luke smiled. “Shouldn’t you have learned by now to expect the unexpected?” He leaned over and broke off a piece of a crumb bun sitting on a plate on the coffee table.

  “I suppose.”

  The phone rang. When Nora answered, the caller hung up. “I don’t know what that was about,” she said with a shrug.

  “I got a strange call yesterday,” Luke said. “Someone asking exactly when Regan was getting married. Something about sending a gift. It didn’t sound legit.”

  The phone rang again. Nora looked at the caller ID. “Unavailable,” she said.

  Luke grabbed it. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Reilly?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “I’m Georgie, the leader of the band that’s supposed to sing at your daughter’s wedding this Saturday.”

  “Supposed to sing?” Luke repeated.

  “I’m really sorry. But it doesn’t look good.”

  “Doesn’t look good?” Luke asked, astonished. “What do you mean?”

  “We were playing at a wedding last night when a brawl broke out. The crowd knocked over a lot of our equipment. Most of it has to be replaced. You should see my guitar. It’s toast. One of my guys has a broken wrist and another is in jail for throwing punches. I’ve told him a hundred times he needs to go to anger management classes.”

  Luke was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “You have a contract.”

  “What do you want me to do, get out there with a harmonica?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Georgie sighed. “It looks like our band is going to break up for good.”

  “I’m sure the public won’t be as heartbroken as when the Beatles called it a day.”

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic, Mr. Reilly. I’m trying to give you plenty of notice.”

  “You call six days plenty of notice? Who do you suggest I get to play at my daughter’s wedding? A bunch of high school kids?”

  “They’re probably already booked. Some of the kids’ bands out there are not bad.”

  Luke’s voice was icy. “We gave you a deposit.”

  “I’m sending it right back.”

  “You’d better.”

  “I know, I know. I’m returning your check and I’m getting out of the wedding business. Too many problems with emotional people who complain if you don’t sing their first song at the exact pace they rehearsed it in the one dance class they took in their lives. It’s not my fault if they’ve got two left feet. Or the bride’s mother complains the music is too loud. The young generation wants one kind of music, Uncle Harry wants another. I’ve had it. I need a rest.”

  “I hope you get a nice long one,” Luke said and hung up the phone. He turned to Nora who looked as dismayed as he did. “As you have gathered, the band canceled. There was a brawl last night.”

  Nora sighed with frustration. “I tried to convince Regan to hire one of those lovely twelve-piece orchestras, but she and Jack had heard this group at a wedding. She said they really got the crowd going.”

  “Apparently they have that talent.”

  “I can’t believe it. First Regan’s dress is stolen. Now she’s without a band. What are we going to do?”

  Luke managed a smile. “Your cousins all love to sing. Eamonn never met a microphone he didn’t like. Maybe he could fill in.”

  The very thought of it propelled Nora out of her seat. “God forbid! I’ll start making phone calls and see who we can find.”

  50

  On the way out to Joyce’s home, Regan gave her parents a call. When her mother answered the phone, she could tell something was wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” Regan asked Nora.

  “Don’t you say hello? You’re always asking me what’s the matter.”

  “Because I can tell there’s a matter.”

  “So there’s a matter.”

  “I’ll ask again then. What’s the matter?”

  “Your band can’t make it to the wedding. There was a big fight last night. Their equipment is destroyed. It’s a darn shame.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Regan.”

  Regan turned to Jack. “Our band canceled.”

  Jack made a face and shrugged.

  “The only reason I’m telling you at this moment,” Nora said, “is because if you or Jack have any ideas…”

  “Jack,” Regan said. “Do you know anyone who just happens to be free next Saturday night and can play ‘Till There Was You?’ ”

  Jack smiled. “I’ll sing it to you, baby.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Regan said. “We’ll figure it out. Right now there are a few other things we’re worried about.” First she filled her in on their adventure with Shauna and Tyler.

  “I told your father we shouldn’t have shut off the TV! Luke, turn it back on.”

  Then Regan told her mother about Joyce.

  Nora was silent for a moment. “Well, that is what really matters, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right, Mom. We’re going to her house to pick up her picture. We’ll run off copies and tack them up downtown.”

  “
Where’s Kit?”

  “I called her a few minutes ago. She’s just getting up. She slept through the show. We’re going to pick her up at the apartment.”

  “Well, Regan, let me know what happens,” Nora said quietly.

  “I will.”

  When Regan and Jack arrived at Joyce’s, Cindy had the pictures of Joyce she’d picked out ready to go. One was of her alone. The other was one taken at the pet shop. Joyce had a big smile and was holding a dalmatian puppy in her arms. Cindy had disregarded the pictures of Joyce and Francis that were in the bedroom. By now Cindy couldn’t stand the sight of him. If he hadn’t left her alone last night, this never would have happened, she thought. And why hadn’t he called back?

  She’d also rallied all the girls who had been with them the night before. “We’re going to hang pictures of Joyce downtown,” she told them. “We’ve got to find her.”

  They had all agreed to meet outside the club where Joyce was last seen. They’d fan out in all directions and tack her image on every telephone pole, tuck it under the windshield wipers of every parked car.

  Brianne had gone to Pauly’s apartment after the morning show. “We’ll both be there,” she said when Cindy called her.

  Now, Regan and Jack rang the bell of Joyce’s house. Cindy answered and let them both inside. “Here are the photos,” she said and told them of the search party she’d organized.

  “That’s wonderful,” Regan said. “What a good idea to meet down at the club.” They were standing in the entryway of Joyce’s living room. Once again Regan got a feeling for the girl she had never met, a girl who kept a cozy home. “Before we leave I’d like to call Joyce’s boyfriend,” Regan said.

  “He hung up on me before.”

  “What?”

  “I told him what happened and the line went dead.”

  Regan and Jack looked at each other.

  “I looked at the caller ID and called the number back, but it was his friend Marco’s cell phone. No one picked up.”

  “Joyce’s purse was found on the street,” Jack said. “That’s not likely something that her boyfriend would have anything to do with.”

  “Could he have been in New York City and called her on her cell phone and said to meet him outside the club?” Cindy asked.

  “Anything’s possible,” Jack said. “I’ll tell my guys to check her cell phone for received calls. They’ll be able to tell if she received a call last night at around the time she disappeared. We’d better get going.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you.”

  “Of course. We’re going to stop first at Tiger News and leave a copy of Joyce’s picture. Hopefully they’ll run it.” Regan paused. “Maybe we should try to get in touch with her mother.”

  “I just tried,” Cindy said. “It’s impossible to get through right now. She’s out in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”

  “As upsetting as it might be if she finds out about this before you can tell her,” Jack said, “I’m sure she’d want us to do everything possible to get Joyce back.”

  Cindy nodded.

  “Hello!” Romeo called from the kitchen. “Hello!”

  “Goodbye,” Cindy called to him.

  “Lazy bums!”

  “That’s his favorite expression,” Cindy told Jack. “I think it applies to Joyce’s boyfriend and his buddy who’s been making himself at home around here for too long.” She glanced around the living room. Knowing that Marco’s belongings were hidden behind the couch filled her with disgust.

  “All set,” she said. They walked out of Joyce’s house and shut the door behind them. As Cindy locked the door, she could hear Romeo calling out for Joyce.

  51

  On the way back to the city from Joyce’s, Regan called the producer at Tiger News and told her about Joyce.

  “You mean she was at Brianne’s bachelorette party last night?” Dana asked, surprise in her voice.

  “Joyce’s group met up with Brianne’s group, at Club Zee, that hot new club on Fourteenth Street. Then Joyce disappeared. Now that her purse has turned up, it appears certain that she must have run into serious trouble.”

  “This is unbelievable! We’d be happy to run her picture, but I’d like to show it in relation to the April Brides story. I’d like to have Brianne on to talk about their last moments together. I’d like you to be on again as well. We’ll have a camera crew cover your search downtown.”

  “I’m sure Brianne would agree to being on the show again,” Regan said. “I appreciate you bringing attention to this story.”

  “We have some great footage of you and your handsome fiancé tackling those two thieves in Central Park. It’s getting a great response from our viewers.”

  “How did you get it?” Regan asked.

  “There are always tourists in Central Park with video cameras. They caught the ‘Dynamic Duo’ in action.”

  Regan smiled. “I’m just glad the Neys got their jewelry back. I’ll call Brianne, and we’ll see you in a little while.”

  “Sounds good.”

  As expected, Brianne was more than pleased to go back on the air. But she sounded serious. “I’m so happy right now about getting married, Regan. I hate the thought of Joyce being in danger.”

  “I know.”

  Regan and Jack swung by to pick up Kit. “I knew there was something about that Shauna,” she said. “I just wish I had seen you two in action.”

  “You can see it on tape,” Regan muttered.

  Regan’s cell phone rang again. This time it was Alfred, but he didn’t sound as happy.

  “I heard from Tracy,” he moaned.

  “Is she suing you?” Regan asked.

  “I’m not sure. She was screaming so much I’m not very clear about it. She hung up on me. Would you call her?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know, Regan. Think of something.”

  “Give me her number.” Regan jotted it down, ended the conversation with Alfred, and then called the Timber household. Tracy’s mother answered.

  “Oh, good morning, Regan!” she said, sounding as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The old stiff upper lip, Regan thought.

  “Hi, Mrs. Timber, may I speak to Tracy?”

  “Sure. Tracy’s here with her friends having a lovely breakfast.”

  Regan blinked. I’d have thought Tracy would be suffering from indigestion.

  “Regan,” Tracy said abruptly as she grabbed the phone from her mother.

  “Yes, Tracy. I know what you’re upset about. Alfred is very sorry.”

  “What good does that do me?”

  “I understand. But you’re just going to have to put a good face on it.”

  “That’s what my friends say. I have to say I’m glad I missed the show this morning.”

  “We’re going back to the studio now.”

  “What?! Don’t you dare mention my name!”

  “Tracy!” Regan said impatiently. “We’re dealing with something else. A girl is missing and her purse was just found on the street. Brianne Barth was out with her last night. We’ve gotten a search party together of all the girls who were with her to canvass downtown and distribute her picture. This girl’s life could be at stake, and her friends are most anxious to find her before it’s too late. That is my concern right now. Not stolen wedding dresses or embarrassing news items. I can assure you your name won’t come up in this conversation.”

  The kick in the pants was just what Tracy needed. Her grip tightened around the phone. She looked out at the three friends who’d been there for her, who would never betray her, the friends who would do anything for her. They wanted to spend the day with Tracy doing whatever she wanted. They’d even joked about driving into the city and stalking Jeffrey, planning his demise. “I’ve got my three best friends in the world with me, Regan,” Tracy said quietly. “We’ll drive in and help you.”

  Regan was shocked. “You will?”

  “Yes. I know
I’m lucky to have such a great family and wonderful friends. I’ve been dumped but I’m grateful for what I have. Where can we meet you?”

  “There might be cameras there. This story is gaining a lot of attention.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t want to sit here and feel sorry for myself. We’ll leave right now.”

  Regan smiled and gave her the address of Club Zee. She could hear a man in the background cheering, “Tracy, my dear, you’ve got that Timber spirit!”

  52

  When Joyce woke up again, her mouth was dry and her body felt like rubber. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see. I don’t believe it, she thought. I really am in this crazy place. She attempted to turn on her side to get a better look at her surroundings but groaned as a sharp stab of pain shot through her right foot.

  The old woman was sitting at the tiny kitchen table with her head down.

  Joyce felt so weak. A wave of nausea swept over her entire being, and she started to cough.

  Hattie jumped up. One of the dogs started to bark and was soon joined by the other three as Hattie hurried over to the couch. She leaned over Joyce, violating the seventeen inches of space that normal human beings like to keep between themselves and anyone who isn’t a contender to be their valentine.

  “You want some more tea?” Hattie breathed, her scraggly hair perilously close to brushing against Joyce’s cheek.

  “No. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Okay.” She turned to the barking dogs. “Quiet, fellas!”

  Joyce pulled back the ratty blanket, swung her legs around, and attempted to stand. But her right foot gave way under her. “Oh!” she cried. “My ankle. It hurts so much. I can’t put any weight on it.” She lay back down.

  Hattie’s eyes darted about. “Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”

  “No!” Joyce said, not wanting to be touched, then quickly added, “Thank you. I’m all right. I can wait.” Will I ever get out of here? she wondered.

  “I’ll go get us some breakfast. And a bandage for your foot. You must have hurt it when you fell down the steps.” Hattie hurried for the door and reached for an old coat that was hanging on a lone hook. “I’m making us a nice stew for supper tonight. My friend Edie and I used to have dinner together every Sunday night. Since she died I didn’t have anyone to eat with. Now I have you. You like jelly donuts?”