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Chapter One
Every corner of the ballroom glittered with Christmas lights, candy canes, and pine boughs. The Oglethorpe/Jamison rehearsal dinner started in less than ten minutes, and the room hummed with activity. Tuxedoed waiters checked table settings for proper placement. A florist fussed with the baby’s breath and votive centerpieces. Next to the gigantic white spruce, specially selected and trucked in for the event, a stringed-quartet played Bach’s Minuet in G Minor. All under the watchful eye of Mamie Oglethorpe, matriarch of the Oglethorpe family.
Olivia Oglethorpe, the radiant bride, posed at the head table while I captured image after image for posterity. The magnificent bride-to-be flawless and gorgeous at every angle, even in her delicate condition—which didn’t show.
My mother, Grace Rutherford, worked the open bar, serving fancy cocktails with silly names like Candy Cane Cosmos and Sinful Santas. I looked her way and nodded. She waved back and gave me the look. The one that said, I know this is tough, but you’re strong. I love you.
My mother was a lot of things, some good, some bad, but she was a great mom. A single mom who always had my back—the encourager of my dreams.
“Shelby, stop!” Olivia yelled.
I continued to snap, not heeding Olivia’s request. She had run me ragged for weeks, and I’d about had it with her. Don’t photograph me from that side. Make sure my face isn’t shiny. My hair isn’t wilting, is it?
I desperately needed to get through the next twenty-four hours without punching the bride. Not that I would hit a pregnant woman. If I hadn’t been so hard up for money, I would never have agreed to shoot her stupid wedding.
My business hadn’t even begun to break even. Shooting weddings was certainly not an art form I’d ever intended to pursue, but landscapes and architecture did not pay the bills. Or at least not yet. So, when Olivia called and asked me to capture her magical day, what choice did I have? Little did I know I’d be following the spoiled brat for weeks, immortalizing every step of the wedding planning process. Mom and I had hit a rough patch in our finances, and we were days away from being evicted from our apartment. That’s why we were both working the rehearsal.
“I said stop! I need to freshen up before the guests are seated.” Olivia pulled a compact from her bag and made clown faces into the mirror. “Where is your mother? Guests are lined up for drinks.”
“What?” I turned and scanned the bar. “I just saw her a minute ago.” I groaned and set my camera down. My nerves were stretched taut from dealing with Olivia’s infantile behavior. Now, my mother was AWOL. Maybe a break was in order.
I checked the kitchen, thinking Mom had gone to replenish her bar stock. She wasn’t there, but I did see Olivia’s dad, Sebastian Oglethorpe and his business partner, Chase Austin in a heated argument. Oglethorpe’s face had gone pale, and he sank against a prep table, shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “She would never do that to me. I’ll never allow it.”
Any other time I’d have tried to eavesdrop. Our little community of Copper Springs loved gossip, and two business leaders having a screaming match in the kitchen of the country club was juicy. But I needed to locate my mother before the Oglethorpe’s fired her.
I slipped out the way I’d come in and went back to the dining room. My mother had issues. Issues with punctuality, holding down a job, and staying away from the wrong men. To say my mother was a flake was a severe understatement. Some days, like today, I grew weary of being the responsible one.
Tyler Jamison entered the room, glanced my way, then under the watchful eye of his future mother-in-law hastened his step toward his betrothed. Yeah, I might have had a little issue with staying away from the wrong man—like mother, like daughter. Olivia and I had vied for Tyler all throughout school. From the first time she and I had laid eyes on the little paste-eater in pre-school, we’d been battling over him. For the next twenty-some odd years, Tyler had alternated being in love with one of the two of us. Olivia had finally won out with three little words—you’re the daddy. Four, if they weren’t used in contraction form.
My shoulders tightened when Tyler patted Olivia’s non-existent belly. She flashed a toothy smile my way. I batted my eyelashes and smirked right back. Why was her belly still flatter than mine? I hoped she got stretch marks, big zipper-looking itchy ones. And how long before her ankles swelled? Okay, I needed that break.
I checked the bar again. Still no Mom. The apron she’d been wearing lay draped across a chair, and her purse stuck out from beneath the counter. On a positive note, she was still here—somewhere.
I headed for the little girls’ room, hoping to find her and came to a stop when I saw Mr. Austin engrossed in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize. Normally, I would have ignored them, but after seeing him and Mr. Oglethorpe arguing earlier, my snoop senses put me on full alert.
Why were they here in the first place? It was a rehearsal dinner, not the actual ceremony. Neither was in the wedding party. They weren’t family, at least Mr. Austin wasn’t. I didn’t know about the other guy, but he didn’t look familiar. Cute, but not familiar. I made a mental note to find out who he was. A new man in Copper Springs always caused a stir with unattached females, and I wanted in on the action. There was no one more unattached than me. Except my mother, and she was not a cougar. At least, I hoped not.
When the duo saw me, they lowered the volume of their discussion. I continued to the powder room where I did not find my mother, but I did have business to do. As I washed up, bits of conversation drifted through the air duct. Male voices. One was Chase Austin, so I assumed the other was the hunky guy I’d seen with him.
“Is he going to be a problem?” the stranger asked. “We can’t move forward if he’s not dealt with. He kept slurring his words at the meeting yesterday. When we broke for lunch, he could barely stand up.”
“Sam, I can take care of it. Don’t worry,” Mr. Austin said.
Sam. I ran that name through my memory and came up with nothing. In order to hear better, I moved closer to the wall, wanting to know who they were discussing. Mr. Austin and Mr. Oglethorpe were partners in a construction firm, and Tyler worked there, too. Neither Tyler nor Olivia’s dad had a drinking problem as far as I knew. Although, Olivia could drive anyone to drink. So maybe.
“If not, it will be a show-stopper. Our board of directors is quite serious about this matter,” Sam cautioned.
“I know. Is everything in place for a smooth transition?” Mr. Austin asked.
“Yes. I have a suggestion about Oglethorpe, and I need your help.”
The door knob rattled, followed by a series of taps. “Excuse me, I need to use the facilities. How long are you going to be?” a soft voice asked.
“Just a minute.” I stalled, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation.
“That’s brilliant,” Mr. Austin said.
What’s brilliant?
The door knob rattled again, this time more insistent. I wadded up the hand towel and tossed it in the laundry bin. When I opened the door, Tyler Jamison’s mom stood there with a scowl on her face.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Olivia hired me to take photos.” I steered around her, trying to extricate myself from an uncomfortable situation. “Now, I need to find my mom.”
Mrs. Jamison stepped back. When I started to pass, she grabbed my arm.
Awkward! I froze. Mrs. Jamison and I had never had a great relationship even during my ‘on-times’ with Tyler. When he finally settled for Olivia, Mrs. Jamison was ecstatic. She believed the rich should stay rich and the poor should stay poor. She also believed I was only after
Tyler for his inheritance. Since Olivia had an inheritance of her own, Mrs. Jamison believed them a perfect match. I think she had the engagement ring ordered before Tyler even asked Olivia to marry him. The only thing I stood to inherit was a stack of bills.
Mrs. Jamison dug her nails into my skin. “We need to talk.”
“Here? Now?”
“It can’t wait,” she insisted. “If you’re here out of some displaced loyalty to Tyler, you need to pack up and leave.”
Whoa. “Are you serious?”
“You do not belong here,” she snapped. “Same goes for your mother. Neither one of you ever had the sense to leave well enough alone. Tyler is getting married, and you need to butt out. And your mother doesn’t need to come between Mamie and Sebastian.”
I tugged my arm out of her grasp. “I didn’t realize you were footing the photography bill.”
Mrs. Jamison leaned in. “Don’t get smart with me, young lady. If you know what’s good for you and your mother, you’ll go tell Olivia you’re not feeling well. Then pack up your equipment and leave. If you don’t, your mother will never work in Copper Springs again. I’ll see to it, and I have the power to make it happen.”
My head spun, and a gaggy feeling settled in the back of my throat. “No, I can’t, and I won’t.”
Before my face gave me away, I ran outside for fresh air and a minute to regroup. I had made my peace with Tyler marrying Olivia. I didn’t like her, but I didn’t want to wreck the rehearsal. I needed to talk to my mother to see what Mrs. Jamison had on her.
When I stepped onto the veranda of the Copper Springs Country Club, a brisk winter breeze smacked me in the face. A breeze which carried voices, a male and a female. One of those voices I recognized immediately—my mother. I followed the sounds to the end of the porch and leaned over the railing. My mother stood down by the lake with Sebastian Oglethorpe. They weren’t locked in an embrace. Thank goodness.
He leaned haphazardly against a park bench, and she stood next to him—holding onto his arm. Was there something going on with Mom and Olivia’s dad? Maybe that was what Mrs. Jamison meant about ruining my mother. But she’d also ruin Olivia’s dad, which was not in her best interest.
Before I could decide whether or not to go down and drag my mother back, the door behind me opened.
Mamie Oglethorpe motioned for me to come back in. “Olivia’s ready for you. We’re going to seat the guests.”
“I’m coming.” I gave Mom one last glance with the hope that whatever the issue was with Mr. Oglethorpe it had to do with her bartending. Like she was quitting, or he was firing her. But if Mrs. Jamison’s threat was any indication, there was more to the story.
Apparently, Mamie thought so, too. Her eyebrow quirked when she heard the voices. A hint of a smile passed over her lips. Or I could have been mistaken. With Mamie, you never knew.
Olivia looked over her mother’s shoulder. “Are you coming?” She latched onto her mother’s arm and tugged.
Mamie stood her ground, ears cocked toward the lake. “You two go on in. I’ll be there in a minute. I have something to attend to.”
“Mamie, it’s not what—”
Her face went stony. “I said go inside.”
Olivia laughed. “I’m not getting any younger.”
Or any less pregnant, I thought.
Chapter Two
Olivia and Mamie had both given me lists of guests to shoot candid photos of before, during, and after the dinner. I figured the best ones would be before or during dinner, but the funniest ones might be after they’d guzzled all the free booze and their inhibitions were down. With my mother AWOL, the booze was not flowing.
The line for the open bar snaked along the corridor with guests waiting for their alcoholic beverages of choice. Waiters stood around fidgeting, impatient for the guests to be seated. And Mamie had not returned.
Olivia flagged me down. “Have you seen my mother? The kitchen manager is having a meltdown. The food’s getting cold.”
I bit my lip. “Not recently.”
She glanced toward the bar. “And where’s your mother? And Tyler’s mother? Where is she? Is everyone conspiring to ruin this dinner?” Olivia fluffed her hair and smiled. “Well, I’ve got news for them.” She snapped her fingers at the closest waiter. “Bring out the food.”
Olivia whispered something to the stringed quartet. The music stopped, and she clapped her hands. “Everyone, please be seated. Dinner’s ready.”
A collective round of applause erupted.
I wound my way through the guests and peeked out the window facing the lake. Mr. Oglethorpe sat alone on the park bench. No Mom. No Mamie. No Mrs. Jamison. Something about Olivia’s father’s posture raised goosebumps on my arms. He didn’t look like a man contemplating his daughter’s upcoming nuptials.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. Tyler leaned in. “You okay?”
“How do you mean?” I let the drape fall into place.
“About the wedding, the baby. I always thought it would be you and me.”
I sighed. “Stop it. I’m fine. You made your choice.” If Mrs. Jamison saw us, she’d go ballistic. I backed away and lifted my camera, lining up a shot of the bride and her bridesmaids—all sorority sisters, of course. My lips turned up in a fake smile. “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.”
Mamie chose that time to make an appearance. And what an appearance she made. Her recently coiffed and sprayed hair leaned to the left. The designer dress expertly designed for the rehearsal was muddy. One of her pumps was missing a heel, causing her to limp like a drunk.
“She’s killed him. That wretched woman has killed him!” Mamie shouted.
A serving tray clattered to the ground, sending plates of baby greens and gorgonzola flying.
Pastor Peterson raced over to Mamie. “Get her a glass of water!”
“Water? Get her a gin and tonic,” one of the guests quipped.
I pulled back the drape and checked again. Mr. Oglethorpe still sat on the bench. He hadn’t moved since I last looked.
Tyler leaned closer. “He’s down at the lake? I’ll go get him.”
I frowned. “Didn’t you hear what Mamie said? I don’t think you should go down there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a hysterical mess today. He’s probably passed out. This whole week has been frenzied. He had too much to drink before the rehearsal, so he’s probably trying to sober up before dinner. Mamie reamed him out, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to face her again.”
While the pastor helped Mamie to a chair, Olivia stared at her mother.
“This is not happening,” Olivia finally said. “This is so not happening. You,” she shouted to the waiter who had dropped his tray, “clean that up, and get another tray out here immediately. The rest of you, sit down.”
No one moved.
“Now!” she shouted.
“Someone needs to help him,” Mamie said between sobs.
“Come on.” Tyler grabbed my hand and tugged me across the room.
I tripped over my size sevens getting to the door.
When we neared Mamie, she pointed a manicured finger. “You’re fired. Your mother is fired.”
I flipped a non-manicured finger back. And it wasn't my index finger. “Blah. Blah. Blah.”
Had it not been for the threatened loss of income, her words would have made me deliriously happy. I’d rather be at home sacked out on my couch with a glass of wine, the remote control, and a reality TV show. Except our cable had been disconnected, and the only wine in the house was in the form of leftovers Mom brought home from her last bartending gig. We truly were pathetic.
Mamie’s cheeks flamed, and I’m guessing it wasn’t a hot flash. “Don’t be flippant with me. They were down there—together.” She spat out the last word like she’d gotten a mouthful of vinegar.
I shifted my camera, and for a millisecond, I considered snapping a photo of her. Might make an excellent mother-of-the bride candid. I
could label it ‘The Implosion.’
Mamie shooed us like gnats from the fruit bowl. “I know what Grace did, and she won’t get away with it.”
I grabbed my backpack, shoved my camera into the protective pocket, and followed Tyler out the door.
“Let’s find my mother,” I said. My mother the adulteress. It wasn’t that I didn’t know there was a man in her life. I had suspected as much with her coming home late, some nights not at all, but never in a million, trillion years would I have suspected she would do the nasty with Sebastian Oglethorpe.
Okay, I knew they had a past. Mamie and Mom had the same kind of history over Sebastian that Olivia and I had with Tyler. Though, as far as I knew, once Sebastian and Mamie married, Mom hadn’t acted on her feelings for Sebastian. She might not have a good track record, but Mom didn’t date married men. That was why seeing her with him was such a surprise. Apparently, Mamie and Mrs. Jamison knew something I didn’t.
“Your mother? Where’s mine? I haven’t seen her either,” Tyler said.
I didn’t tell him about her earlier threat. He had enough to worry about. Instead, I urged him toward the employee parking area where Mom and I parked for the event. Her car wasn’t there.
At the main lot, I checked with the valet who had a view of the only entrance and exit from the grounds.
“Bobby, have you seen my mom? She was here earlier. She’s supposed to be tending bar, but her car isn’t in the employee lot.”
He checked his clipboard. “She left about fifteen minutes ago. Squealed tires like she was being chased by the devil.”
Crap! So not fair that she was out of here, and I was still stuck. I scanned the lake and nudged Tyler. Mr. Oglethorpe still sat where I’d seen him and my mother. Maybe he had passed out. Please, let him be passed out.
“Sebastian!” Tyler shouted as we drew closer. “They’re waiting for you.”
Mr. Oglethorpe sat at an odd angle, slumped over a bit onto the armrest. I had a wicked, bad feeling about this and not the kind I had earlier when Tyler’s mom threatened me.
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 49
