Matthew gave a sort-of wave, but it seemed clear enough that he was just fine with letting Kirby do the talking. Colin couldn’t blame him for that; coming to these sorts of affairs could be taxing enough without having to deal with the inevitable disapproval a gay couple might get from some of the relatives.
Then Margot asked how Colin knew Alex, and he trotted out the same line he’d used on Jenny. It seemed to work, because Margot just nodded, while Lucas inquired whether Colin was from Tucson as well.
That was safe enough ground, and he talked about the city and going to school here, and which restaurants to go to and which to avoid, and whether it was worth it for Lucas and Margot to delay their return to Flagstaff so they could go to the Saguaro National Monument the next day. Inconsequential stuff, and Colin found himself gradually relaxing, worrying less and less with each course that was brought out as to whether anyone at the table would catch him in a lie.
So far, so good, though, and by the time the dinner plates were removed, he thought he’d be able to get out of this evening more or less unscathed. All right, he also hadn’t managed to dig up one useful piece of information, except that Caitlin apparently was starting to make quite a career for herself as a writer, something Colin hadn’t heard anything about until this evening.
Not that he would have, since he didn’t read much fiction, and definitely not fantasy, the sort of thing she wrote. Still, hearing that she was doing well at such a young age made an unwelcome little flare of jealousy burn somewhere inside him. Here he was, writing puff pieces about parking meters for the princely sum of $35K per year, while Caitlin had somehow managed to get two novels out there already, with a third on the way.
And he didn’t even want to think about the crappy lifestyle and diet pamphlets he was churning out on the side, making an extra thousand or so each month writing for some ebook mill based in California, just so he could afford to keep up his alimony payments and still live in an actual apartment instead of the back seat of his car.
You’ll be done with that soon, he reminded himself. Just a few more months. And then you’ll never have to write another book on aromatherapy or juicing ever again.
His expression must have shifted, because Lucas shot him a speculative glance but didn’t say anything.
Luck seemed to be sticking close by Colin that night, though. In the next moment, there was some commotion at the head table, and then the groom’s brother stood up and made the usual speech about how the new couple had found the right person when they found each other, and how he was sure they’d be very happy together. This was followed by everyone tapping on their glasses, forcing Alex and Caitlin to share an obligatory kiss. Her cheeks were flaming almost as red as her hair, and Colin got the impression that she hated being the center of attention. Unfortunately, that sort of thing was kind of hard to avoid when you were the bride.
But then Jenny stood as well. She held a champagne flute in one hand and smiled, but there was something too tight about her expression, as if she wore it because she had to and not because it was something she would have voluntarily done. From the little Colin had been able to dig up about Caitlin and Roslyn McAllister, it seemed the two were cousins but also very good friends. If Roslyn hadn’t been murdered, would she have been Caitlin’s maid of honor instead?
Hard to say, and Colin doubted he’d ever have the chance to ask Jenny that question. She made a nice little speech as well, although he noticed how tightly she clutched her champagne flute, knuckles white and the muscles in her slender bare arm tense. If it had been fragile crystal instead of the sturdy glassware used by the catering company, he had a feeling that glass would have shattered in her grip.
“And I know,” Jenny said, “that we’re all very happy to have the de la Paz and McAllister clans joined like this, in the same way we McAllisters recently joined with the Wilcoxes. So let’s drink to the bright future of everyone here, especially Caitlin and Alex!”
Everyone raised their glasses and drank, and Colin did, too, although he found himself puzzling over Jenny’s words. Clans? They were in southern Arizona, not the Scottish Highlands. And something about the way she’d phrased that toast made it sound as if they’d just signed a peace treaty or something, instead of simply getting married.
He didn’t have much time to puzzle it out, though, because then it was time for the couple to cut the cake, an event surrounded by a lot of clapping and cheering, although Colin couldn’t see much of what was going on, thanks to the positioning of the table where he sat. Not that he cared; he wasn’t much for sweets, especially when paired with champagne. It was good champagne, too, something that would have gone better with a nice salty cheese.
But when the cake came around, he took a small slice and had a few bites for courtesy’s sake, listening to the group at his table discuss whether Connor and Angela — whoever they were — would come to Jerome for the holidays this year or would stay up in Flagstaff. Colin filed the names away for future reference, just in case, but he was only listening with half an ear. So far no one had mentioned Roslyn McAllister, let alone her murder, and the conversation had been full of references to people he didn’t know. And certainly Alex Trujillo hadn’t created any displays of blue light. So far, the whole thing seemed a bust. A pleasant bust, with plenty of champagne and a very nice meal of pork tenderloin with achiote/cherry sauce, but still.
Then Alex led Caitlin out to the dance floor for their first dance. An old standard, “The Way You Look Tonight,” which surprised Colin. It seemed sort of old-fashioned, and he wondered which of the couple had chosen the song.
After they’d had their customary minute or so alone, though, more people moved out onto the dance floor, Lucas and Margot among them, his dark eyes twinkling down at his wife, as if at some private joke. And Colin shifted in his chair, wondering if this was his cue to get out before things got too awkward.
His eyes locked on Jenny, who stood off to one side, looking uncomfortable and apparently pretending as if it was completely normal for her to be there all alone, without a partner. The best man, Alex’s brother, was dancing with an extremely pretty Hispanic woman, obviously his wife, which meant Jenny had been left at loose ends.
Without even stopping to think about what he was doing, Colin got up from his chair and wove his way through the crowd until he was standing in front of her. She startled, and then a surprised smile touched her lips as she seemed to recognize him.
“I think I left your champagne flute behind,” he said. “But it would have gotten in the way.”
“Of what?” But her big blue-gray eyes were sparkling. She knew exactly why he was there.
“Of asking you to dance.”
One of her eyebrows went up. “Well,” she said, “I think you could have probably asked me while holding it, but I agree that it would have been a problem once we actually started dancing.”
“So…do you want to?” God, that sounded idiotic. He was really out of practice at this sort of thing.
But Jenny seemed to take pity on him, saying, “Sure. It’ll save me from having one of my cousins give me a pity dance.”
Colin wasn’t sure whether he should take that remark as an insult or not, but he decided to brush it aside. Anyway, he really did want to pull her into his arms and lead her out on the dance floor. He wouldn’t claim to be that great a dancer. On the other hand, he thought he could manage something slow like the current piece without embarrassing himself too much.
So he held out his arms, and Jenny moved into them, seeming to fit just about perfectly. She was on the tall side, especially with those three-inch heels she had on — he still hadn’t figured out how women could stand around for hours on end in those things, let alone dance in them — but since he was just a shade over six-two, there was still a decent height difference between them, just enough to have her nose brush right beneath his chin.
Damn, she smelled good, too. Colin didn’t know if it was her perfume or something she used to mak
e her hair that shiny, but he liked it, a soft scent that wasn’t too floral, sort of warm and welcoming, like the scent of sugar cookies on a cold winter day.
“So….” He cleared his throat. “Do you have a lot of cousins?”
“Tons of them.” A tilt of her head, and those misty-toned blue-gray eyes were looking up at him. “We McAllisters are all over the place in Jerome. And the Verde Valley, too.”
“So not all your family is here.”
“Not even close. The de la Pazes — I mean, Alex’s family — are pretty ginormous, too. I think my Aunt Tricia — that’s Caitlin’s mom — and my mother sat down and figured out some kind of lottery to make it fair as to who got in and who didn’t. Luckily, I didn’t have to be involved in that part of the planning.”
“Just making sure everyone showed up on time and no one’s bouquet got lost.”
She grinned, fun little crinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes. “Sounds like you’ve been involved in a wedding or two yourself.”
“A couple,” he admitted. Well, that was true enough, if you counted his wedding to Shannon and then his sister’s wedding, where he’d been an attendant but not, thank God, the best man. And then there were the weddings of friends from college, and his cousins, and a few he’d had to cover during his early days of working at the paper, before he got moved up to the more important stories…anyway, he’d sort of lost count after a while.
“So yes, all that kind of stuff. I stepped in when Danica — ” She broke off then, as if she’d realized she was about to tread on ground she probably shouldn’t be covering with someone she barely knew. Speaking quickly, Jenny went on, “Well, there was some stuff going on, and I was kind of a pro at this maid-of-honor thing by then, so I offered.”
“That was nice of you,” Colin said. Inwardly, though, he was wishing she hadn’t cut herself off. Danica Wilcox had been kept out of the public view for most of Escobar’s trial, but Colin knew she had to have suffered some kind of effects from her kidnapping ordeal.
A shrug. “She’s my cousin. She deserved to have her day go smoothly.”
The song ended then, and Colin, with some reluctance, let Jenny slip out of his arms. She flashed him another one of those brilliant smiles, then said, “I’ve got some more bridesmaid-y things to manage. Are you going to stick around?”
“Absolutely,” he replied at once. So much for his notion of slipping out when no one was looking. But what man in his right mind would take off when a woman who looked like Jenny McAllister was asking him if he planned to stay around for a while?
“Great.” One last smile, and then she was off toward the head table, where Alex and Caitlin had returned, although neither one of them had sat down. They seemed to be talking with the couple Colin recognized as the bride’s parents, maybe trying to decide how many songs to get through before stopping things for the bouquet toss or the garter throw.
Since Colin wasn’t really interested in either of those things, he wandered out of the dining room and into the hallway outside, then out through one of the sets of French doors that opened on the courtyard. All the trees were swagged with white fairy lights, and floating candles drifted on the surface of the swimming pool. Clearly, the Trujillo/McAllister wedding party had pretty much taken over the entire hotel, and Colin found himself wondering how much all this had cost. Fifty grand? Probably at least that; Shannon’s parents had paid for most of their daughter’s wedding, and Colin had tuned out a lot of it, mostly because he found it sort of horrifying the way people would spend money on what was, after all, just a single day in a person’s life. That money would have been far better spent on a down payment on a house or something, even though he had to admit he wouldn’t have been able to lay claim to that asset, either, considering the way the divorce had turned out.
Pushing his bitter thoughts aside, he made a mental note to do some checking into the de la Paz and McAllister finances. Everything was most likely on the up and up, but it never hurt to do a little digging.
The breeze was cool, the warmth of the day nearly gone by now. Overhead, the bright desert stars were pinpricks in the dark sky, although it wasn’t entirely black, not with the lights of Tucson reflecting up into the heavens. The music drifting out from the reception seemed distant, otherworldly, and Colin frowned.
Just what was it that Eileen Kosky had seen? Once again he felt assailed by that sensation of futility, that he’d come here on a wild goose chase and had completely wasted his Saturday night.
All right, he hadn’t completely wasted it. He’d met Jenny McAllister, and that was something.
Jenny McAllister, who lived approximately three and a half hours away from him.
He let out a sigh and jammed his hands in his pockets, vaguely wishing he hadn’t given up cigarettes his senior year of college. At least if he still smoked, he’d have something to keep himself occupied. As it was, he began to wonder again whether now would be a good time to slip away. Maybe Jenny would be disappointed, but better disappointment now than later, when she realized he didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to offer her. And that he’d begun things with her by telling lie after lie. Jesus.
“Hey,” she said then, and he started, turning to see that she was approaching him in the semidarkness, her high-heeled sandals swinging from one finger.
Something about the sight of her bare feet, with her pretty painted toes, was almost insanely erotic. He swallowed, but his voice was steady enough as he said, “Hey yourself. All done maid-of-honoring for the evening?”
“I hope so.” She headed over toward a table and chairs not too far from where he stood, then more or less collapsed into one of the seats. “I know my feet sure do.”
“Those heels are pretty high.”
With a clunk, she set them down on the tabletop. “Especially for someone who spends most of her days in boots or flip-flops, depending on the time of year. Jerome isn’t exactly high-heel friendly.”
A decade had passed since he’d visited the former mining town, but he recalled its steep sidewalks well enough. No, it wasn’t the sort of place that was exactly conducive to teetering around on three-inch heels. Glad that she’d appeared and relieved him of the burden of slipping away into the night, Colin went over and sat down in the chair next to hers.
For a moment, neither of them said anything, but the silence wasn’t awkward. Colin had always liked that quality in a woman, that she’d be okay with not talking and didn’t feel as if every moment had to be filled up with conversation.
Then Jenny let out a sigh. “Damn. I should have grabbed one of those bottles of champagne on the way out. Things are winding down, so I doubt anyone would miss it.”
“I’ll go get one,” Colin offered. “As long as I can name-drop you if one of the waiters challenges me.”
“Permission granted,” she said with a grin.
He got up and headed back inside. As she’d said, it did look as if the reception was starting to quiet down. A slow song played, and a number of couples still moved on the dance floor, but he could see how the room was starting to look a little empty around the edges. Ranks of champagne bottles and their attendant flutes sat on a side table near the bar, so Colin snagged a bottle and some glasses. Despite his worries, no one seemed to be paying him any attention, and he made it back outside without incident.
“Bless you,” she said as he sat down next to her.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, then began prying out the cork with his thumbs. “I don’t know what happened to the waiters, but I probably could have grabbed an armful of these things without anyone noticing.”
“Well, we’ll start with the one and go from there.”
Something in him began to heat up at the promise in those words. He risked a sideways glance at her as his fingers still worked the cork, but he couldn’t tell much from her expression. It was almost blank, as if she’d used up all her smiles during the day and the evening that followed, and now she just wanted to be calm and rel
axed.
Well, he couldn’t blame her. Even weddings that went off without a hitch — as far as he could tell, anyway — tended to have you feeling more or less steamrollered by the end of the day. And if she wanted some muscle relaxant and quiet conversation to take the edge off, he’d do what he could to oblige her.
The cork shot out and arced neatly into the pool, narrowly missing one of the floating candles. “Oops,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving her hand. “They’ve got to have someone come around and fish out all those candles, so I assume they can get the cork at the same time.”
That sounded logical enough. Anyway, he wanted to focus on her, on the way the little votive in its glass holder on the table sent dancing lights shimmering in her golden hair and turned her blue-gray eyes almost green. He poured champagne into one of the flutes, then held it out to her.
“To Caitlin and Alex,” he said.
She didn’t smile, but nodded instead, as if that was all she had energy for. “To the happy couple.”
They both drank. Another silence descended, although this time it felt more strained than the last one. Colin wondered if Jenny was thinking about her sister, who should have been here. Of course, he didn’t dare ask her. He couldn’t let on that he knew anything about her family’s history with Matías Escobar, of the tragedy that had descended on them out of the proverbial blue.
Then Jenny said, “Goddess, I’m glad that’s over.”
That remark did surprise him. Not that he was overly religious or anything, but he didn’t have a lot of experience with pagans. Probably better not to mention it, though. And because she’d let that piece of information slip, he figured he should be honest with her on at least one point. “Yeah, my own wedding was a pain in the ass.”
She shifted in her seat, eyes flashing with surprise — and, he thought, disappointment. “You’re married?”
“Divorced.”
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