Good God, did Norm find out what I did?
Her wrinkled hand crept to her throat as she recalled the catastrophe that was her sister's wedding day thirty-five years ago…
* * *
"Are you ready yet, Myrtle Anne?" her mother shouted, pounding on the bathroom door. "You know, other people could use the mirror more than you."
Myrtle adjusted the blue satin dress and twirled in the mirror, admiring her new hairdo. Turning her head to examine her profile, she couldn't help but notice how closely she resembled Eliza, her sister. Eliza was getting married in a few hours, and thank God she had the brains to order decent dresses for her bridesmaids and maid of honor.
"I should've been her maid of honor," she muttered.
Myrtle was still hurt by the fact that Eliza had chosen her best friend for the highest honor. How could Eliza do this to her?
"Always a bridesmaid," Myrtle said to her reflection.
Just that morning, her mother had warned her that she'd better hurry up and get married if she wanted children. She'd just turned twenty-six. A spinster, by her mother's terms.
"For crying out loud, your sister who is six years younger than you is getting married before you. What's wrong with you, Myrtle Anne? Why can't you find a man?"
Myrtle frowned in the mirror. I did find a man, Mother.
Unfortunately, Eliza had beaten her to him.
Rick…
Ricardo Ferelli was a young legal assistant when Myrtle had first met him. Tall, handsome, with a mind bent on a career as an attorney, he had all the qualities she was looking for. They'd gone out for six months when he finally convinced her to invite him to dinner at her family home in Sherwood Park. Her mother had been more than thrilled.
So was Myrtle. Things were looking serious. She'd finally found her man—until Rick set eyes on Eliza.
Although Ricardo Ferelli had swept into both of their lives, he'd been swept out of Myrtle's faster than she could say "I do." In fact, she never even had the chance to contemplate those words. Eliza would be saying them instead.
Myrtle glanced at her watch. It was nearing 7:00 PM.
Almost time to leave for the church.
She emerged from the bathroom, ignored her mother and headed downstairs. From the top step, she could see a small group of women standing in the living room. Eliza was in the center, all bride-like and glowing in her form-fitting, white satin wedding dress with the tiny diamonds on the bodice. Beside her stood Stephanie, her maid of honor and best friend.
Myrtle's face transformed into a hardened mask of anger and jealousy. Eliza, you traitor! Resentment boiled with each step, threatening to erupt like a bad case of acid reflux. In that moment, she didn't know who she hated more, Stephanie or her own sister.
"Myrtle!" her sister exclaimed over the loud music. "I was wondering where you were."
Like you really care, Myrtle wanted to say.
She glared at Stephanie. "How come everyone's inside?"
Eliza pouted, something she was very good at. "It's raining."
Myrtle glanced out the window. Sure enough, a light drizzle watered the yard and disturbed the dark surface of the barely visible swimming pool.
"Your mom forgot to buy new bulbs for the outdoor lights," Stephanie said. "If it wasn't raining we'd have drinks by the pool before the wedding."
Myrtle's brow arched. "Looks like you've already had a few."
Stephanie gave her an overstretched smile. "One glass of wine."
Eliza grabbed Myrtle's arm and dragged her into an alcove. "What are you doing? This is my wedding day."
"Yes, it is." But it should have been mine!
"Look, Myrt, you told me you understood when I told you I wanted Stephanie to be my maid of honor. She's my best friend."
I understand that you're thoughtless. "I do understand. I just don't like her." At Eliza's shocked expression Myrtle added, "So sue me."
Thankfully, their mother interrupted them. "We're popping open a bottle of champagne in the kitchen." She took Eliza's arm and whisked her away.
Myrtle hung back, tempted to ditch the wedding and head for a bar where she could get seriously drunk.
"Where is everyone?" Stephanie asked.
Myrtle eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. "Don't know."
"Can you tell your sister I'm moving my car to the grocery store parking lot out front?" Stephanie pulled her car keys from a silver handbag. "I'm in the alley and I don't want to be towed."
"It's dark out there. I'll come with you."
In hindsight, if Myrtle had paused to think about her unusual offer, she would have realized that a plan had started to percolate.
* * *
Myrtle snuck a peek in the foyer mirror. A strand of hair was dislodged and she tucked it back behind a hairpin.
"We're getting ready to go," her mother told her. "I'll take Aunt Lucy and the bridesmaids. You're okay to drive your sister and Stephanie?"
"Of course. I only had a rum and Coke." Hold the Coke.
Myrtle helped Eliza into the backseat.
"Where's Stephanie?"
Myrtle shrugged. "She said something about her car."
"What do you mean? She's parked out back."
"I know," Myrtle said. "She had her keys out. She must have thought there wasn't enough room."
Eliza blew out a breath of relief. "So she's meeting us at the church." She laughed. "For a minute I was worried."
"Yeah, can't have a missing maid of honor, now can we?"
Eliza shook her head. Then she took Myrtle's hand. "I'm so glad you understand, sis. I didn't want you mad at me on my wedding day."
Myrtle painted on a smile. "Now why would I be mad at you?"
She was about to close the car door, when her sister let out a loud gasp. "My dress!"
Eliza hauled in handfuls of fabric just in time.
Myrtle swore beneath her breath.
* * *
"Where can she be?" Eliza asked for the millionth time. Her voice crackled with unshed tears. "She should have been here before us."
"I'm sure Stephanie will be here any minute, dear," their mother said, stroking Eliza's arm.
Everyone was in a panic over Stephanie. Everyone, that is, except for Myrtle. She played the concerned sister and called Stephanie's number on her cell phone. She even left messages.
"Stephanie, it's Myrtle. We're all at the church. Where are you?"
Eliza moaned. "What am I going to do, Mom? She's my maid of honor."
"Maybe she's here but doesn't know what room we're in. I'll go check, dear."
Myrtle watched their mother scurry off in the direction of the church entrance.
"Oh, Myrtle," Eliza wailed. "Stephanie was supposed to help me get ready."
Myrtle turned her toward the floor length mirror. "I think I did a pretty good job."
"Tell me what Stephanie said to you again."
Myrtle let out an irritated sigh. "She had her keys in her hand and said she was going out to her car. I thought she was driving here."
"And Mom checked the alley?"
"That's what she said. And there was no sign of Stephanie's car."
A tear trickled down her sister's face. "Then where is she?"
"Maybe she stopped off at her boyfriend's house."
Eliza's mouth opened, then closed. "She doesn't have a boyfriend."
"Maybe she went to a pub for a few more drinks," Myrtle said, her voice hardening.
"She wouldn't do that." Her sister stared up at her. "Why do you always have to be so mean? Stephanie's never done anything to you."
Myrtle clamped her lips tight. No, nothing except take my place as your maid of honor.
"Look, Eliza, I have no idea why your best friend would go traipsing off somewhere when she knows you're getting married." Myrtle glanced at her watch, "You're already twenty minutes late."
"I can't get married without Stephanie!"
"Of course you can. Rick's waiting for you." And you woul
dn't want to keep him waiting.
"You're right," her sister said between her tears. She turned back to the mirror. "Now help me fix my makeup. I want to be perfect for Rickie."
"Rickie?" Good God.
In the mirror, Eliza's eyes widened. "Shh, don't tell him I told you. I'm the only one who calls him that."
"Maybe because he's a grown man."
"No, silly. It's his special name." Eliza lowered her voice to a whisper. "You know, for when we do it."
Suddenly, Myrtle was slammed with a terrible image, an image of Eliza wrapped in Rick's strong arms as they made love. The acid reflux that had boiled earlier rose to the back of her throat. She grabbed her throat, coaxing it back down, but not before contemplating spewing fiery black acid all over her sister's pure white dress.
"I know," Eliza said with a giggle. "Too much information."
In reply, Myrtle cinched in the ties at the back of Eliza's dress.
"That's a little tight, sis. I can barely breathe."
Don't tempt me, dear sister.
Their mother waltzed into the room. "It's time!" She gave Myrtle a quick peck on the cheek, then wrapped her arms around Eliza. "My baby's getting married."
Eliza smiled brightly. "Oh, Mom. I'm not a baby anymore."
The three of them bustled out of the room, Myrtle taking up the rear, while Eliza and their mother held hands and giggled like school kids. Myrtle scowled and took an extra long stride, stepping on the train of Eliza's dress.
"Be careful, Myrtle!" their mother scolded. "You don't want to ruin Eliza's beautiful dress."
Maybe I do, Mother.
The pastor hurried toward them. "Are you all set?"
Eliza took a deep breath. "My maid of honor isn't here yet."
"That's a shame," the pastor said. "We're just going to have to start without her." He smiled, oblivious to Eliza's distress. "At least the bride and groom are here."
"Can't we wait another half hour?" Eliza begged.
The pastor gave her an apologetic smile. "We're already late, my dear. I have an appointment in another hour." He glanced at Myrtle. "I'm sure your sister wouldn't mind standing in as your maid of honor."
His comment made Myrtle grin. "Of course I can stand in for Stephanie," she said, as if it hadn't crossed her mind. "Come on, Eliza. It's time for you to get married."
* * *
The wedding ceremony went smoothly. Myrtle had stood beside her sister, held the bride's lush bouquet, and whispered the vows while smiling into the eyes of the groom.
The bastard never even noticed her.
That's when Myrtle came up with another plan.
Once the reception at the Holiday Inn was underway and everyone was feeling the effects of too much champagne, she slipped a note in Rick's tuxedo pocket. Fifteen minutes later, she saw him pull it out, read it, then smirk with glee.
He gave his bride a wink, then headed toward the bar.
Rushing towards her sister, Myrtle said, "I think I saw Stephanie's car in the parking lot."
Eliza's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Myrtle nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's hers."
Eliza bunched up the sides of her dress and hurried from the reception hall. Across the room, Rick grinned.
Within seconds, Myrtle was running to the elevator, a room key card in hand. She'd taken it from her sister's purse earlier in the evening.
Inside room 403, she briefly took in the honeymoon suite with its heart-shaped bed, chilled champagne, red roses and chocolate covered strawberries.
Then she stripped naked. Hanging her dress up in the closet, she turned off all the lights and slid between the silky sheets.
Anticipation teased her body until she was ready to explode.
Finally, she heard a card slide in the door. It opened, silhouetting Rick's tall frame for a second. He quickly shut the door.
"Lizzie, you're a wicked girl," Rick's shadow said in the dark. "When I got your note telling me you would be waiting for me here in the dark, I thought, 'What would your mother think?' He chuckled. "Then I realized I didn't care. I want to make love to you until you scream, my lovely wife."
Sounds of clothes being tossed on the chair were followed by movement on the bed. In a flash, hot hands slid over Myrtle's body. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.
"Lizzie…"
Rick's tongue slid into her mouth. She ravenously kissed him back. It had been a long time since she'd had sex. Over a year. He'd been the last one…her only one.
"Rickie," she whispered against his mouth.
His fingers danced down her body, sending shivers of excitement through her veins. Then his lips trailed butterfly kisses down her neck to her breasts.
Would he notice she was smaller than her sister?
No, poor Rickie didn't notice a thing.
Not even later when she cried out in ecstasy.
Afterward, Rick dressed in the dark, just as she'd instructed him in her note. He kissed her lips. "I'll see you downstairs, my love."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Myrtle let out a heavy breath. Good God, the man could screw. She could've gone another round.
Stretching like a cat, she giggled. "Happy wedding night, Rick."
She dressed slowly, as if in a dream, then left the honeymoon suite, feeling more bride-like than she could ever imagine. Plucking a chocolate strawberry from the platter, she bit into it and moaned with pleasure. It was almost as delicious as the orgasm Rick had given her.
Almost.
The elevator took her down to the lobby level. She entered the reception hall just in time to see Rick crossing the room. A sea of wedding guests parted and there was Lizzie in all her bridal glory stepping inside through the exit door to the parking lot.
Rick lurched to a stop. He glanced around the room, a look of horror plastered on his face. Myrtle could almost hear his thoughts. What was Lizzie doing outside? Wait! She couldn't have made it downstairs before me. I left first. His horrified expression turned sickly. Oh my God. What have I done? Who was that upstairs?
Myrtle took a step forward, then paused when Rick's gaze found hers. The smile she gave him started slowly, two tugs on the corners of her mouth. It then grew into a wide, knowing smile.
Thanks, Rick.
His face now paler than a corpse, he approached her, every expression churning in his dark eyes. Regret, sorrow, anger, fear.
It was the latter that made Myrtle laugh out loud.
Rick reached her. "What have you done?"
She batted her eyes at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about." With that, she whirled away, heading toward her sister.
"Myrtle, can you believe it?" Eliza said, flashing her rings. "I'm married."
"Let's hope you can stay married," Myrtle muttered.
"How can you say that?"
"You know men. They're fickle to the core."
Almost as fickle as my sister.
"Not Rick," Eliza argued. "He's loyal to the core. He'd never cheat on me."
Myrtle glanced over her shoulder. Rick was a few steps away, but by the look on his face, he'd caught Eliza's declaration.
"Never, Eliza?" she said, grinning. "You know what they say. Never say never."
"Where have you been?" Eliza asked her new husband.
"I, uh…" Rick glared at Myrtle. "I have to go ask your mother something. I'll be right back."
"We're going to talk about this," Rick whispered as he passed by.
Myrtle didn't know if he meant they'd talk or he'd talk with Eliza. Either way it didn't matter to her. What's done is done. She wouldn't take back a minute of Rick's body on hers, inside her, for anything.
"I couldn't find Stephanie anywhere," Eliza said, tugging on her arm.
"I'm sorry, sis. I thought it was her. Hasn't she called you?"
Eliza shook her head.
"Did you call her?"
"At least a half dozen times," Eliza said. "I think something's happened to her."
"You m
ean like she got in a car accident or something?"
Eliza nodded. "Or got a flat tire. And maybe her cell is dead. She always forgets to charge it. And she probably left all her credit cards at home, since everything was free tonight. She never likes to carry a heavy purse." She paused. "I never did thank you, Myrtle, for stepping in as my maid of honor."
"My pleasure." Myrtle awkwardly patted her sister's shoulder, hoping it resembled something a concerned sister would do. "I'm sure your real maid of honor will turn up today or tomorrow.
* * *
Stephanie did turn up, just as Myrtle had predicted.
The morning after Eliza's wedding, their mother had taken her morning tea and toast outside. She planned on having breakfast while sitting in her favorite wicker chair near the pool. Breakfast, however, was put on hold so she could call 911 and report the dead body floating in her swimming pool.
"You should have seen S-Stephanie," she sobbed to Myrtle and Eliza. "The poor girl must have slipped and hit her head on the edge of the pool." Sob. "Then her lovely maid of honor dress weighted her down."
"The poor girl indeed," Myrtle said, shaking her head slowly.
It took a lot of composure to not burst out laughing.
* * *
Myrtle Murphy was known for her calm composure and demeanor in the face of adversity. This ability had come in handy over the years. It had gotten her through a terrible marriage, and her husband's untimely disappearance. The police still hadn't found his body. It had even gotten her through dealing with Mother Murphy, a grand matriarch with a firm handshake and a weakness for tea.
She stared now at the small piece of paper in her hand.
Rick Ferelli. Her sister's ex-husband, now turned attorney.
She dialed the number.
"Harrington and Ferelli Divorce Attorneys," the receptionist said.
So that was it. Norm had wanted a divorce.
Myrtle smiled. "Sneaky bugger. But I beat him to it."
Yes, nothing says divorce like tea laced with rat poison and a midnight burial out in the country.
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