Drowning in Christmas (Kate Lawrence Mysteries)

by Judith Ivie

  “Like it? I love it! I can't believe this is our house. Jeff and Donna will be absolutely thrilled. I think you two should go into the catering business yourselves.” I crossed to where they sat and gave each of them a big hug. “I'm so sorry I got held up, but wait until you hear what happened.”

  Armando put a glass of wine into my hand and pushed me gently into the big easy chair opposite the sofa. After just a few sentences, they were hanging on my every word, their eyes round.

  “Wow,” was Emma's succinct reaction when I finally wound down.

  Armando's eyes danced as he gazed at me across the room. “So once again, Wethersfield's answer to Jessica Fletcher has solved the crime,” he joked gently. “I am sure the police are grateful for your assistance, as they have been in the past.” Despite his teasing words, I could hear the pride in his voice.

  “Depends on who you ask,” I replied. “I don't think that young man sitting in the Hubbard Plaza parking lot for the next several hours is all that happy with me. Anyway, I'm starving. Emma, are you staying to share whatever it is on the stove that smells so good?”

  She drained her glass and jumped to her feet. After the day she had put in, I admired her energy. “No can do, Momma, sorry.” She headed for the kitchen.

  “Big plans for the evening?” Armando twitted her. I knew he was as happy as I was to see her regaining her energy and spirit. She stuck her head back into the room as she shrugged into her coat.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she retorted. “I've been invited to a party, and I'm going, so there.” She caught my eye and winked. “Don't worry, Momma. I'm back.”

  “I can see that. Have a good time.”

  “I intend to,” she assured me. “See you guys tomorrow,” and she was gone.

  Thirteen

  “Are you excited?” I asked Jeff on the phone the next morning.

  “Right at the moment, I don't know what I am, Aunt Kate. I'm worried about Donna. If I'm interpreting the awful noises coming from the bathroom correctly, she's in there throwing up.”

  “Perfectly normal,” I assured him. “I'm sure it's just a thumping good case of the jitters combined with morning sickness. Surely this isn't a new thing.”

  “If she's been having this kind of morning sickness, she's done a great job of keeping it a secret from me,” Jeff said.”

  “Well, give her a couple of Saltines when this bout passes, and tell her everything here is under control,” I told him, but I neglected to mention that I had my fingers crossed.

  To tell the truth, I wasn't feeling all that perky myself. The events of the past week had really taken their toll on me, physically and emotionally, and I still had this wedding to get through. When the Ghost of Christmas Past came to haunt me in years to come, I hoped he wouldn't choose this one for me to revisit.

  I poured a cup of coffee and took it upstairs to Armando. He lay on his back, covers pulled neatly over his chest, snoring gently. Gracie looked up from where she was nestled in the crook of his arm.

  “Good morning,” I said to her. She squinted her amber eyes at me. “If you've picked him out as your person, that's fine, but you should know that he's kind of tough to get up in the morning.”

  Her eyelids drooped shut, and she resumed her nap. Great, they're a perfect match. I plunked the mug down on the bedside table.

  “Wake up, Sleepyhead. Salma Hayek is at the front door. She says she's here to make wild, passionate love to you.”

  A smile curled Armando's lips. Just as I thought, he was faking. Too late, I tried to dodge out of his reach. He caught me by the wrist and pulled me down next to him. Gracie lumped off in disgust, and I took her place, my head on Armando's shoulder.

  “What time is it?” he asked, still without opening his eyes.

  “Ten o'clock. Emma will be back with Michael and Sheila and Sheila's mother in about an hour, and the caterer will be here at noon.”

  “So we have a whole hour to ourselves, do we not?”

  I recognized that tone. “Not a chance,” I told him. “If Margo and John show up early and catch us canoodling, I'll never hear the end of it.” I struggled to an upright position and slid off the bed. “John's at the police station right now with James,” I added for good measure.

  Armando sat up and reached for his coffee. “Do not dwell on it, Cara. You have done everything you possibly can for these people, and now it is out of your hands. It will be what it will be. Today is for happier thoughts.”

  He was right, of course.

  “By the way, where did you put my gray suit? I did not see it in my closet last night.”

  I clapped both hands to my head. In all the confusion yesterday, I had completely forgotten to collect his suit from the dry cleaner. Armando shrugged, unperturbed.

  “So I guess I will be wearing something else today, is that what you are telling me?”

  “I'm so sorry,” I apologized before darting from the room to answer the phone, which was ringing off the hook in the kitchen. “Wedding Central,” I answered with manufactured cheer. The day was off and running, and so was I.

  At eleven o'clock almost to the minute, Emma let herself in the front door. Sheila was right behind her with her mother. Sheila herself was a vision of understated elegance in a shell-pink, Chanel-style suit and low-heeled pumps. Her stylish brunette bob framed a face that simultaneously radiated embarrassment and resignation. Emma waggled her eyebrows at me meaningfully, and I understood Sheila's discomfiture immediately.

  “I don't think you've ever met Sheila's mother, have you, Momma? Grandma Mitzi, this is Joey's and my mom, Kate Lawrence.”

  “Hi, there, Sheila, come on in. Mitzi, welcome. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you.” None of it good, I added silently. In stark contrast to her daughter, Mitzi had gaga old lady written all over her from her flowered straw hat, circa 1959, to the wrinkled stockings that sagged around her skinny ankles. The rest of her was covered by a girlish dress with a full skirt, two sizes too big for her, in a violent shade of yellow. It hurt to look at her.

  “Pleased to meetcha, I'm sure,” she said, extending a wizened claw tipped with red acrylic nails. “I don't understand why we're here. Who's getting married this time?” Bright lipstick that matched her frightening nails wandered uncertainly across her mouth.

  “I've told you, Mom. Michael's nephew Jeff is marrying his fiancée Donna this afternoon.” She ushered her mother firmly down the hall to the living room.

  “Oh, I know Michael, all right. He's that bigshot you're married to now, drove us over here from the hotel. Where'd he get to?”

  I had been asking myself the very same thing.

  “He's parking the car down the street,” Emma explained. “We didn't want to block the driveway, or the caterer won't be able to get in.”

  Oh, good Lord, I had forgotten all about the parking situation. Between the caterer and the sixty invited guests, there could be upwards of forty vehicles jockeying for position on The Birches’ quiet streets by two o'clock. Would that number of cars even be tolerated by the condominium association? I foresaw a nasty-gram from the property management company in my future.

  Oh, well, too late now, I thought, Still, the caterer has to be able to get in and out. I grabbed Emma and begged for her help. “I'm on it,” she said and vanished back outside to keep traffic away from the driveway. “Hi, Mary,” she greeted my next-door neighbor on the way out, and I cringed anew. On her best day, Mary was a loose cannon. The idea of her in the same room with Grandma Mitzi during a solemn, formal occasion was downright alarming.

  “What's cookin’, Snookums?” Mary greeted me, her eyes bright behind her thick spectacles. “Where's your ex? I'm dying to get a squint at him.”

  “Right behind you,” I informed her sourly. “Come on in, Michael, and join the party.”

  He did, grinning from ear to ear, and introduced himself to Mary. Michael's easygoing nature and genuine niceness had always been attractive to the ladies,
and Mary was no exception. She goggled at him happily.

  “So where's the new wife?” she demanded after names had been exchanged. “I want to get a look at her, too.”

  “Sure thing,” Michael agreed affably. He gave me a peck on the cheek and a wink. “Come along with me, and I'll introduce you. You didn't lock Sheila in the basement like you did the last time, did you, Kate?” He took Mary's arm and ushered her down the hallway. “Thanks again, Kate. The house looks great,” he said over his shoulder. I shook my head and remembered once again how much I liked Michael. We made much better friends than we had spouses.

  Promptly at noon, the caterer's trucks pulled into the driveway. They were followed closely by Margo. “What's familiar about these guys?” she wondered aloud. She tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured finger.

  “They all pretty much look alike in those white smocks, don't they?” I yanked her into the kitchen for a private conference. “Where's John? How did it go at the station?”

  “He'll be along soon, Sugar. As far as I know, it all went accordin’ to plan. James showed up, and Mary was with him. They did their thing, but there's a lot of paperwork, statements to be taken and so forth. It bein’ Sunday, it's tough to get a magistrate on board, so that takes more time. Then they have to find a bail bondsman. You know how it goes.”

  I didn't, but I was willing to take her word for it. Margo went to join the others in the living room and play hostess for me. At that moment, Emma opened the door between the kitchen and the garage. A procession of white-coated catering staff filed in, burdened with food and equipment. For several minutes, it was pandemonium. Then everything fell smoothly into place, and the crew became a team of seasoned professionals.

  Bringing up the rear was the big boss himself. At last, I get to meet the big cheese, I thought, and found myself face to face with Henry Kozlowski.

  “Henri? Is it really you?” I beamed at him, remembering how he had created the spectacular diversion on the fly at the Wadsworth gala when James went missing. He had absolutely saved the evening.

  “Never fear, ma petite, Henri is here,” he said in an affected French accent reminiscent of old war movies. Then he snapped his gum and gave me a big squeeze. “How's the fundraising biz, Sweetie?” His staff went calmly about their business, unaware of my connection to the nearly disastrous gala.

  “I never realized that East Hartford Catering was you. My ex-husband made all the arrangements.”

  “That would be the big, good-looking one, right?” he said wistfully. “Why is it that all the really great men have wives?” He sighed. “Oh, well. Not to worry, Sweetie. This meal is to die for.”

  “Now I know everything will be fine,” I grinned at him and went to get Armando out of the shower and moving in the right direction.

  I found him sitting on the end of his bed, buttoning a white dress shirt. In addition to the shirt, he wore black silk shorts and black socks. Armando's casual, South American relationship with time had always irritated me, and I struggled to keep my temper. “Hurry up, Handsome. The house is filling up with people. I need you downstairs being charming,” I pleaded.

  He pointed to a pile of clothes on the floor in front of his closet. Gracie lay snugly on top, her tail curled over her nose. “Nothing fits,” he said sadly. “I cannot button any of those things because I am becoming, how do you call it, piggy.”

  “Porky,” I corrected him without thinking, then bit my lip. “Don't be silly. You're not getting fat. You've put on a few pounds, but I happen to like your tummy. So pick something out of that pile, and get downstairs quick. Just leave the jacket open.”

  He remained motionless. “I am becoming a fat old man,” he insisted. I gritted my teeth.

  “Honey, you're going to be the best-looking man in the room, as usual. So please, please get moving. You can start your midlife crisis tomorrow, I promise. Don't forget to shut Gracie up in here when you come downstairs.”

  Throughout our conversation, the doorbell had bonged almost continuously as Jeff and Donna's young friends began arriving. I peeked out an upstairs window to assess the parking situation and was surprised to see Joey greeting the arriving guests. He was directing them to available parking spaces on side streets, which were rapidly filling up. I was filled with gratitude, but as I watched my handsome, capable son, I was also overcome with an awareness of the passage of time. My quirky little nephew Jeff was getting married today, Donna was expecting their child, and my own baby boy was outside my house looking more mature and assured than he could possibly be old enough to be.

  I had to remind myself that Joey had routinely managed a seventy-three-foot rig in all kinds of traffic and weather for a couple of years now, and it wasn't only he who had grown up while I wasn't paying attention. His little sister had just had her heart broken, but she was downstairs with a smile on her face handling our guests with aplomb. She was also probably wondering where in blazes I was. I pulled myself together and headed for the stairs. I would just have to postpone my midlife crisis, too.

  I was startled to see how many people now occupied the downstairs. Most of them were unfamiliar to me. By one o'clock, the house was filled to bursting, and the noise level rose in direct correlation to the consumption of champagne. I oozed through the crowd in the hallway to take a break in my bedroom and change into something a bit less casual. I closed the door quietly behind me and went to find Jasmine. She looked calmly at me from her snug bed, which sat on the end of the couch, and I sat down beside her to give her a scritch.

  “Sorry about the solitary confinement, old girl, but you wouldn't like it out there.” Once again, her deafness was a blessing, sparing her undue stress from the crowd noises outside the door. I remembered that Jeff and Donna were due any minute and hurried to change from my sweater and slacks into a cream-colored suit. The cut of the jacket was ladylike, with a touch of tulle at the collar and wrists, and the short, fitted skirt that showed my legs to advantage always made Armando smile. I slipped my feet into matching high-heeled sandals and tidied away my things. Donna would need a sanctuary of her own, especially if she was still feeling queasy.

  I could never understand the custom of combining the marriage ceremony, which is a pretty fraught undertaking all by itself, with a huge party. By the time the celebration gets started, the bride and groom always look glassy eyed, and one wonders if they can even begin to enjoy the event. Then, just when the party is getting good, they are whisked away from their friends to the airport for the honeymoon trip.

  It's a good thing photographers commemorate the occasion, I thought. If they didn't, the bride and groom probably wouldn't remember or even know about half of the day's events. I paused with one hand on the doorknob. Among all the lists and menus, had there been any mention of a photographer?

  I squeezed my way back down the hall to the living room and waved frantically at Joey, who stood next to a very pale Justine. She smiled at me gamely. I admired her pluck, but was she really well enough to be here?

  “Joey!” I hissed, and he made his way through the crowd to my side. “We forgot about a photographer. We've got to have pictures. I need you to get to WalMart or CVS and buy a dozen of those disposable cameras with the built-in film. We'll just hand them out to people and hope for the best. Use my debit card. The code is your birthday.”

  “Got it,” he said, “but I'll pay for them, Ma. I forgot to get Jeff and Donna a wedding present, so this can be it.” Without even stopping to put on his jacket, he flew out the front door, almost colliding with a pleasant-faced woman on the porch. Her sober attire and briefcase identified her as the Justice of the Peace, here to officiate, but her whimsically spiked gray hair lightened the overall impression.

  “Julie McKenna,” she introduced herself, and I greeted her warmly. I had forgotten all about a J. P. , too, and was glad that Michael, or more probably Sheila, had not.

  “I'm Kate Lawrence, the groom's aunt, and the young man who nearly knocked you over is my son
Joey, Jeff's cousin. Do come in.”

  Julie slipped out of her coat, and I attempted to find an empty hanger in the front hall closet. When I turned around, she and Henry were giggling together in the kitchen as wait staff milled around them.

  “May I assume no introductions are needed here?”

  “None at all,” Julie assured me. “Henry and I have ushered dozens of couples through their wedding days. What's the menu today?” When I left the kitchen, Julie was ooohing and aaahing over a plate of hot hors d'oeuvres Henry pulled out of the oven.

  By one-thirty, the pre-wedding party was in full swing. Armando had finally appeared, dressed in a navy blazer, unbuttoned, and dark gray slacks. As usual, he looked good enough to eat, Henry's hors d'oeuvres notwithstanding. Even the younger women in the crowd eyed him covetously, I thought. Henry leered openly, waggling his eyebrows at me Groucho Marx-style.

  “Hands off, he's taken,” I told him firmly, but I smiled while I said it.

  Once again, I was filled with gratitude for my terrific, grown-up children. Emma moved easily among the dozens of young people I didn't even know. Some seemed familiar to her, which surprised me. Apparently, she kept in better touch with her cousin than I had realized. When Joey reappeared with a shopping bag full of disposable cameras, he distributed them to Michael, Sheila, Emma, and an assortment of Jeff's and Donna's friends. When I begged off, pleading hostess duties, he handed the last one to Mary. She hooted with glee.

  “Where's the happy couple? We need a few shots of the bride getting into her dress,” she hollered to me across the room.

  The steady hum of conversation around me waned and faltered. It seemed that all the guests craned their necks in my direction, waiting to hear my reply, but I realized I didn't have one. Julie, Henry and his staff all gazed at me, eyes bright with interest, while Emma and I locked eyes with one thought between us. Yes, where are Jeff and Donna?