Wedding Mints and Witnesses

by Kelsey Browning

  They piled out of Abby Ruth’s dually with Lil clutching a folder full of flower ideas.

  The front of the store had three large windows on each side of the front door—each dressed in a different color and theme.

  “Aren’t these flowers lovely?” Lil ogled the display of seasonal floral wedding bouquets and pew arrangements to match.

  “Good enough. We can price some.” Abby Ruth yanked open the door.

  “This is what I imagine a dewy-fresh morning at a flower market in the south of France smelling like,” Lil cooed. “The intoxicating aroma of roses, freesia, lilac, and peonies in the air. Or heaven. I bet heaven smells like this.”

  “Seriously?” Abby Ruth couldn’t hide her sneer. “I hope it smells like fresh-cut grass and dirt when it’s kicked up after a slide into home plate.”

  Lil’s head-shake wasn’t wasted on Abby Ruth. “We might not be going to the same heaven.”

  Soft music filled the air, and across the way a man stood on the other side of the counter wrestling a four-foot-tall floral arrangement into submission.

  Maggie leaned in and whispered, “Winnie’s shop isn’t a sixth as big as this one.”

  “Size isn’t everything,” Lil said.

  “Like hell.” Abby Ruth snickered.

  Lil shot Abby Ruth a look that would’ve shamed anyone else. “Winnie does lovely work.”

  “Wasn’t arguing with that.” Raising a shoulder in the flower arranger’s direction, Abby Ruth asked Lil, “He look like the guy you danced with?”

  “No, my gentleman was broader in the shoulders, I think.”

  It was possible he could still be Virginia’s guy, so Abby Ruth swaggered toward the man. “Can you help us?”

  “Yes,” he answered without making eye contact. He continued to fuss with the arrangement. His hair was strawberry blond, but dang it, she needed to see his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

  “My daughter is getting married. I’m looking for someone to arrange the bouquet for her. I loved what you did at the Pettiway wedding a while back. Do you remember that one?”

  “Bridezilla with a flower allergy. I wish I could forget that customer. Four-foot cascade of the most ridiculous combination of flowers. A myriad of roses in deep reds, corals, and pinks. Then she added random silk posies to my perfect fresh design. An utter mess.” Nose in the air, he sputtered in disgust.

  “Maybe something a little smaller than that. And all white.” Nothing like that at all. “Do you own this place?”

  “I do.”

  Now she could tell the man’s eyes were hazel, which got her pretty much nowhere seeing as they probably changed colors depending on what he was wearing. “Ever go out and set up the weddings yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  From somewhere behind her, Abby Ruth heard a rough cough made to sound like a word that rhymed with “pool sit.” She whirled around, but all she spotted was a doorway at the back of the building.

  “We’re in the market for some wedding flowers,” Lil told the florist. “Actually, my cousin is the one who recommended you. You might remember her. Virginia? She was at the wedding too.”

  “Ma’am, I meet hundreds of people each week. I can’t possibly remember them all.”

  Abby Ruth stepped into his personal space and cupped her hands in front of her chest. “Virginia’s a hard one to forget, if you know what I mean.”

  His expression was completely blank. This wasn’t looking promising, but she tried another tactic. “How do you feel about jewelry?”

  “It can work. I did a wedding bouquet with a cameo broach in the center of a peony one time. It was quite lovely. And for the wedding you’re talking about, we did huge rhinestones in the middle of each daisy. How’s that sound?”

  “Hmmph.” Sounded too glitzy to her. She rolled her eyes and caught a glimpse of a young man with a beard toting a box of yellow flowers. Sometimes the hired help saw more than people realized. Maybe he could shed light on his boss.

  “Keep him talking.” With a quick swing of her elbow, Abby Ruth nudged Lil toward the flower shop owner and darted into the storage area to follow as the other man left the shop. The late-spring sunshine glinted off his bald head. Why did so many young men shave their heads these days? Didn’t they realize that stuff would fall out soon enough?

  He placed the flowers in the back of a delivery van and swung himself inside the cab.

  Before he could back out, Abby Ruth darted up to the driver’s side window and knocked.

  He glanced over, surprise clear in his apple green eyes. He rolled down the window. “Can I help you?”

  “I think you can, Mr…” She let the question dangle out there.

  He stuck his muscular arm out the window to shake her hand. “My friends call me Kenny Ray.”

  “Abby Ruth. I’m curious. Did you deliver flowers to the Pettiway wedding?”

  “I honestly can’t remember. They all run together, you know?”

  “So I guess you didn’t happen to see your boss with a very sexy buxom older woman, a short-haired brunette wearing sky-high heels at the wedding that day?”

  “Yeah, the boss man was at that gig.” He laughed, the sound slightly forced. “He has a thing for the older ladies if you know what I mean.”

  “And why would I know that?”

  “I didn’t mean… Well, umm.” The guy reddened.

  “How about you? Did you ever talk with her?” With the cougar movement these days, anything was possible, even if he didn’t really fit Virginia’s description other than his eye color.

  “That woman is at a lot of our weddings. She’s hit on me a few times, but she’s old enough to be my grandmother. Besides, I like long, lean brunettes.”

  Did he just wink at her? “Did you see anyone else with her? Maybe a guy with redder hair than your boss?”

  “You must mean Dicky.”

  Dicky? She cocked an eyebrow that never failed to convince men to spill their secrets. “Tell me more about this…Dicky.”

  “He’s the DJ.”

  “Where could I find him?”

  “Probably every wedding we’re at. Elisabeth, the owner of E-lite Wedding Planning, always hires the same vendors.”

  “When’s the next wedding?”

  “In a couple hours. The work never ends around here, and I’m running late. Do you need any more help?” He reached out to adjust his side mirror, and a smudge of black dirt peeked out from under his watch band.

  “Got everything I need,” she said. “Thanks.”

  Lil and Maggie walked outside as Abby Ruth watched the delivery guy pull out of the parking lot.

  “I think the florist is a dead end,” Lil said. “He just doesn’t seem the type to canoodle with Virginia, and he’s doing quite well with this business. Why would he steal from his customers?”

  “Delivery driver doesn’t agree, so let’s keep Mr. Calla on our radar. But honestly, I’m not feeling it. Got a new lead, though. Apparently, the DJ from that wedding is a ginger too.”

  “A DJ?” Lil groaned. “Please, no more dancing.”

  “He also said the wedding planner from E-lite Wedding Planning hires the same vendors every time,” Abby Ruth said. “Could be our link.”

  Lil brightened. “If E-lite Wedding Planning has any credibility in the wedding industry at all, they’ll be at the bridal show. It’s the show of the season. We could pay them a visit. We might be able to sneak a peek at their vendor list while we’re at it.”

  “Perfect.” Abby Ruth pressed the remote to unlock her truck. “I think we have a plan.” They chugged down the road and entered the highway.

  When they finally took the exit toward Summer Shoals, Abby Ruth made a hard right turn into a cemetery, sending Lil and Maggie careening to the side of the truck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I forgot we needed flower samples for Jenny,” she told Lil. “I promised her. Remember?”

  “We’re going all the way back?�
��

  Abby Ruth threw the truck into park and jumped out. She pulled a knife from the front pocket of her jeans and began a quick and dirty pruning of the flowers planted on either side of John Smith’s headstone.

  “Stop that!” Lil called out. “Oh my word! If you’re stealing flowers from those graves, we’re surely going straight to hell.”

  Abby Ruth jogged back to the truck. Once inside, she tossed a handful of assorted flowers into the back seat, and they landed smack dab in the middle of Lil’s lap. “Jenny needs to know we’re making progress and be in a good mood before I break the news about Red.”

  “You’re probably right.” Holding tight to the ill-gained bouquet, Lil leaned over the seat. “Do you want us to come with you?”

  “Sure.” Having Lil and Maggie around might be a way to assure that Jenny didn’t completely go crazy on her. If Jenny never forgave her, Abby Ruth couldn’t blame her, but at least she’d always have her friends.

  * * *

  Abby Ruth marched up the steps to Jenny’s house and rapped her knuckles on the front door. Bowzer barked inside as they waited for several minutes. “Jenny’s car is here.”

  “She couldn’t sleep through all that barking,” Maggie said.

  “Got that right.”

  Jenny finally pulled open the door, and in the light from the huge pewter chandelier suspended over the living room, her lank hair and the bags under her eyes were obvious.

  “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Why are you still in your pajamas?” Abby Ruth pushed past her. “We brought you some flower samples, and I have something to tell you. Something important.”

  “What’s up?” One hand pressed to her forehead, Jenny closed the door and shuffle-stepped into the living room.

  But Abby Ruth couldn’t bring herself to blurt out the news that Red was her father yet.

  Lil lifted a soft pink peony under Jenny’s nose. “What do you think about these?”

  “Pink isn’t my color.”

  “Don’t they smell delicious?” Lil asked.

  Jenny held up a finger in front of her face, then darted from the room.

  The retching sound from down the hall was unmistakable.

  “First trimester sickness.” Efficient as always, Maggie marched into the kitchen and opened cabinets one by one. “Does she have some ginger ale?”

  “Cold rag on her forehead,” Lil added.

  “Only thing that helped me keep from tossing my cookies when I was pregnant with her was penne pasta with butter on it.” Abby Ruth went into the kitchen and grabbed a cast iron skillet, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. With a twist, the flame glowed blue under the pan. “Maggie, can you find some noodles in the pantry and get them cooking?”

  “In a skillet?”

  “They cook faster this way.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Abby Ruth tapped lightly on the bathroom door Jenny had disappeared through. “How are you, sugar?”

  “Mom, this is so awful. I was never sick with Grayson.”

  She opened the door and sank to the floor next to Jenny. “Every pregnancy is different. I bet you’re having a girl this time. I was sick as a dog when I was pregnant with you. Everything I swallowed, you were in my stomach free-throwing back up for a three-pointer.”

  Jenny laughed and ran a hand through her sweaty bangs. “I thought little girls were sugar and spice.”

  “That’s a myth.” Abby Ruth winked. “Ask me. I have a daughter. The best one in the world.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She lurched for the toilet and heaved again.

  Abby Ruth ran a washcloth under the sink and held it to her daughter’s neck. “You’ll be okay.”

  “I know. Sorry,” Jenny croaked out. “What did you need to tell me?”

  “Umm…” Abby Ruth leaned against the bathroom vanity. Gaunt and tired, Jenny stared up at her from the cold tile floor. “I—”

  Maggie poked her head inside the door. “I have that pasta made for you.”

  “Thanks.” Abby Ruth put her hand out for Jenny and pulled her up. “I was just going to tell you that I had the perfect morning sickness cure. Works on all the Cady women. Pasta with butter. Come on.”

  “It sounds awful right now, but I’ll try anything.” Jenny shuffled out to the kitchen and slid into one of the chairs. Maggie put a small bowl of macaroni noodles slathered with butter in front of her.

  “Go ahead. It’s the only thing that worked for me. For us.” Yeah, those early days of Abby Ruth’s pregnancy had been awful for more than one reason—heartburn and heartache.

  Jenny took a tentative bite and sat quietly. Then another. “I think it’s helping. Thank you so much.”

  “Jenny, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “As much as I hate to say it, we have to hit the big wedding show that Lil was yammering about the other day,” Abby Ruth said to Maggie as she stared into her first cup of coffee for the morning. And it did pain her. The last thing she wanted was to walk around an exhibition hall the size of Alaska with starry-eyed brides-to-be. She’d rather donate her wisdom teeth.

  “Of course we do,” Lil said as she swept into the kitchen, hair perfectly curled and bluer than it had been the day before. She was dressed in snazzy yoga-type pants and a flowing sweater in a sassy green. More Sera’s style, but then again, the Californian had rubbed off on them all. Lil’s tennis shoes gleamed white against the wood floor. “How else are we going to finish the plans for Jenny and Teague’s wedding?”

  Lil placed the huge white wedding planner book on the table, then poured herself a cup of coffee.

  Abby Ruth hated that doggone thing with a red-hot passion. “This isn’t about my daughter’s wedding.” She shoved the planner out of her line of sight. “It’s about finding who is apparently going around preying on old ladies.”

  “Takes an old lady to know one,” Maggie said cheerfully, handing a plate of pancakes and bacon toward her.

  “You better be glad I love you so much,” Abby Ruth shot back. “I swear, if we can just concentrate on finding the DJ, I will get back on track with Jenny’s wedding.”

  The pang from not telling Jenny about her dad hit Abby Ruth mid-chest again. But Teague had mentioned that Jenny was still struggling with the early pregnancy pukes. He’d been shoving as much pasta and butter down her as he could, but the stuff wasn’t a complete cure-all. If they didn’t watch out, Jenny might have a pasta gut too big for her dress come wedding time. Soon, she’d be out of her first trimester, and if she was anything like Abby Ruth, that sickness would vamoose faster than a losing team’s fans. She hoped that would be the case.

  “The wedding will come together,” Abby Ruth said.

  “Forgive me if I don’t completely believe you, dear,” Lil said. “It’s clear as day you’re shaking in your boots about this whole wedding event, even though we told you there’s no reason to be.”

  She’d much rather concentrate on bad guys. Thinking about what the delivery driver had mentioned, she dug into Maggie’s fluffy buttermilk pancakes. “I have a feeling about this DJ. He’s our guy.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Maggie asked.

  Abby Ruth patted her midsection. “A Cady knows these things.”

  “Perfect.” Lil scurried around the kitchen, snatching up magazines and other stuff from her stash of wedding samples. “Then it won’t take us long to nail him, call the police, and move on to the real work we need to do.”

  “You’re the one who was all fired up for us to become the G Team,” Abby Ruth protested, disappointment settling over her. She needed something, anything, to distract her from keeping secrets from her daughter.

  Lil pursed her lips disapprovingly. “I still don’t know what to make of the wedding crashers, and I wouldn’t put it past Virginia to have simply misplaced her necklace.”

  “She did seem like the type of woman who might misplace—” Maggie made air quotes, “�
��a lot of things she wears.”

  “My bet is on her underwear,” Abby Ruth cracked. “But that doesn’t make her a liar.”

  “I’m not accusing her of lying.” The edges of Lil’s smile drooped. “But we do know two things truly happened.”

  “Money disappearing from Stella’s purse and someone nabbing your rings.”

  “Yes. And right now, the DJ and E-lite Wedding Planning are our best leads, so we need to attend the bridal show to make Jenny and Teague’s wedding the best we possibly can. And if we get information to help get my rings back, all the better.”

  “That’s fair,” Abby Ruth said. “Worst is we hit a dead end. If that happens, we’ll skip around the whole place picking us as many samples as will make Jenny happy.” Quickly, she finished off her breakfast and wiped her mouth. “The bridal shindig starts at ten sharp. We need to get on the road.”

  She headed for the front door, with Maggie right behind her. Lil fell in step with them and then they were on their way to Atlanta. Right on schedule.

  Abby Ruth was plenty accustomed to big structures. After all, she’d seen Red play baseball in the Astrodome many times. But something about the Atlanta Convention Center made her anxious. Probably because there was a lot of froufrou stuff in there she had no idea what to do with. Little trinkets and glitter and crap.

  Beside her, Lil clapped her hands in complete joy. “I can’t wait!”

  “The DJ first,” Abby Ruth reminded her and pointed at Maggie for good measure. “If either of you get distracted and start wandering off, I will yank you back like a wayward sheep.”

  And holy guacamole, when they paid their entrance fee and strolled inside, it was worse than she’d imagined. White flowing fabric was draped from the industrial fixtures fourteen feet above. Here and yon, balloons were tied into elaborate bundles.

  “Is that a bounce house?” Maggie pointed to a structure made from balloons that did indeed look like a contraption people rented for kiddie parties.

  “I wouldn’t try it,” Abby Ruth advised. “Those don’t look like commercial-grade balloons.”

  On another corner, someone had fashioned a white bird so big it resembled the offspring of a swan that had canoodled with Sasquatch. “What is all this stuff?”