Marriage and Mayhem (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 7)

by Jeanne Glidewell

  If for some reason, Wendy and Andy’s marriage did not last until death they did part, or my own death—whichever came first—I’d do my damnedest to steer Wendy toward joining a convent. With her beautiful face, ideal height and slender physique, she’d look stunning in an all-black habit.

  Twelve

  When Lariat and I arrived at Lily’s-in-Bloom Floral Shop a few minutes later, we were surprised to find Wendy chatting with the owner, Lily Franks.

  “I feel bad,” she said, “for piling so much of the responsibility on your shoulders, Mom, so I decided to meet you guys here.”

  “I’m so glad you could join us, honey.” I was touched by Wendy’s concern. When asked if she felt better, she assured us her headache had abated.

  Lariat’s hangover had completely worn off too and he stood motionless beside me with a blank expression. I had to introduce myself to the floral shop owner because Lariat seemed tongue-tied. Lily’s lovely aquamarine eyes seemed to sparkle as we shook hands.

  Lily was slightly on the plump side, but so was I, so I’m in no position to throw shade on anyone with a weight problem, not that I would have anyway. I actually would have felt more confidence in the cake decorator if Chena had Lily’s figure instead of that of a runway model. Lily’s tiny ears were delicate, nearly translucent, and only served to make her long, narrow nose appear more prominent. She was short in stature and had the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen on a grown woman. I was amazed she could stand upright without wobbling. Her wrist sported a tattoo of a lily, for which I complimented her.

  “I thought it was appropriate,” she replied. “Certainly more appropriate than the Minnie Mouse tattoo at the base of my spine.”

  “A Minnie Mouse tramp stamp?” Wendy asked. I was afraid Lily would be offended by the remark, but she just laughed.

  “I told you it was inappropriate, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised by some of the off-the-wall tattoos I see while performing autopsies. A few of them are in locations most folks would never think to have a tat inked.”

  “I can only imagine.” The florist shuddered dramatically. “But kudos to you for being appointed to the medical examiner position after Uncle Nate retired.”

  “I thought I recognized you,” Wendy said. “Weren’t you at your uncle’s retirement party?”

  The two ladies continued their exchange while Lariat and I sat quietly by. I was pleased to find Lily so personable and easy to work with. Where the cake decorator had been cold and calculating, Lily was warm and friendly. More importantly, her creations were stunning and her rates seemed reasonable, or at least compared to the arrangement I’d purchased online recently for a great-uncle’s funeral. She and Wendy had clicked immediately, which warmed my heart.

  I turned to Lariat, who seemed to be in a stupor. “What all do we need to order?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Do you have any suggestions or ideas?” Wendy asked Lariat.

  He merely shook his head slowly, like it weighed more than the rest of his body parts combined. The only thing he’d managed to do since stepping into the floral shop was kiss the shop owner on both cheeks—his standard greeting when it came to women.

  It suddenly became clear to me. Not only was Lariat completely sober, he was also completely unable to function as a wedding planner without some measure of alcohol coursing through his veins. The man couldn’t make a simple decision or form a complete sentence, and I knew it was because his usual “buzz” had worn off. With a very limited time to get everything arranged, I realized I needed to get some alcohol into Mr. Jones. And I needed to do it quickly.

  “Lariat, do you happen to have any liquor in your bag?” My tone was anything but cordial.

  “Unfortunately not. I usually never leave home without my friends, Jim, Jack, and Johnnie, but my flasks are in my saddle bags on my bike, which I seem to have misplaced. Why do you ask?”

  “You are about as productive as a dead slug this morning.” I couldn’t believe I was ticked off that my wedding planner was sober. “And, once again, your Harley is at the Alexandria Inn.”

  “It is? How’d it get there?” Lariat asked.

  I shook my head in exasperation. Thankfully, having dealt with Lariat on numerous occasions, Lily recognized the problem instantly. She gazed at Lariat as she spoke. “I have Crown Royal in my cabinet and cola in the cooler, if you’d like something to mix it with.”

  Lariat perked up upon hearing her words. “Thanks, Lily,” he replied. “Drinking it straight up is more efficient.” He grinned broadly and then gave me a questioning glance.

  I nodded in response to his unasked question. “It goes against my better judgment, but go pour a little of that whiskey down your gullet quickly so we can get this traffic jam moving.”

  “Sure, if you insist,” he replied with a grin.

  I wondered then if I’d been played, but it was too late to backtrack. “Don’t drink too much,” I pleaded as he took the half-full bottle Lily offered and headed to the exit.

  “I’ll be back in no time. You ladies feel free to proceed without me.” Wham! The front door closed behind him.

  Oh, boy! I may regret that rash decision, I thought. I wondered if he’d return to the shop or we’d seen the last of him for the day.

  “What were you thinking, Mom?” Wendy asked, her voice filled with alarm.

  I glanced over at my daughter. She looked as if I’d just told the man to go get trashed before he helped her plan the most important day of her life. Which, basically, is exactly what I’d done.

  Stunned, Wendy added, “And who are Jim, Jack, and Johnnie?”

  “That’d be Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, and Johnnie Walker,” Lily said. She smiled at me as she attempted to calm my daughter, whose feathers I’d unintentionally ruffled. “I’ve been working with Lariat for several years now. Stone sober, he’s worthless as training wheels on a stationary bike. Wet his whistle a bit, and he’s brilliant.”

  I patted Wendy’s shoulder. “Relax. It’ll all work out just fine.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Lariat waltzed back in with a nearly empty whiskey bottle and all his pistons pumping. Now that his familiar buzz had returned, he appeared as sharp and efficient as ever. It took less than thirty minutes to pick out the floral necessities. Wendy was decisive about what type of flowers she wanted: white orchids, a contrasting red flower, and baby’s breath used as a filler. She quietly scanned through a catalog to select the perfect red blossom to set off the centerpieces for the tables. The boutonnieres and bouquets would be miniature versions.

  “Look at this one, Mom. It’s beautiful, and it’s called the palm of Christ. Isn’t that just perfect?”

  Before I could agree, Lily asked, “Are you sure you want that in your wedding arrangements?”

  “Absolutely!” Wendy nodded, and added, “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s just that the palm of Christ―” Lily began. She then shrugged, and said, “Oh, never mind. It shouldn’t present a problem. It is rather expensive though.”

  “That’s okay.” Wendy’s response didn’t surprise me. When she decides on what she wants, she never hesitates to spend a little more to get it.

  “All right. If you’re positive.” Lily waited for Wendy to confirm before notating the choice on the order form.

  For some reason, the florist seemed tentative about including the pretty red flowers in the arrangements. Perhaps the flower’s scent was not overly pleasant, or the flower was difficult to come by. Whatever the reason, Lily’s demeanor was curious. However, seeing how pleased Wendy appeared with her selections, I shook off my feeling of uncertainty.

  Wendy had chosen a simple, but classy, arrangement. I was glad she’d been able to join us after all, as I would have picked a more elaborate assortment that Wendy might have considered outlandishly gaudy.

  Lariat guided Wendy as she made her selections. He advised her against using the same table centerpieces for both the rehearsal dinner and the r
eception. “The fresh flower arrangements will be perfect for the rehearsal dinner, but it’d be a waste of money to use them for the outdoor reception. In the heat of summer, they’d keel over faster than someone suffering from heat stroke. I have some beautiful silk arrangements that will match your theme perfectly. I’d be happy to lend them to you for the reception at no cost.”

  Lariat brought up photos on his phone and showed the silk arrangements to Wendy. She nodded and whispered something to him I couldn’t make out. Then turning to me, she gave a thumbs-up gesture, accompanied by an ear-to-ear smile. The two seemed totally simpatico, but then they were nearly the same age and didn’t have a twenty-year age gap like Lariat and I did. Wendy even offered to give him a ride to the inn to collect his Harley after she’d completed her selections, which was a relief to me. I was pleased she seemed happy with the wedding planner I’d hired, not that there were other options available if she wasn’t.

  If the rest of the wedding planning progresses as smoothly as ordering the floral arrangements, we’ll soon be sitting back, chilling like a bottle of champagne, until the big day arrives. That thought reminded me that we needed to add “purchase Dom Perignon” to our list of things to do. When asked, Wendy had indicated the celebratory champagne was not a corner she wanted to cut. “Anything short of Dom Perignon,” she’d said, “would cheapen the traditional toast.”

  Naturally, Lariat had agreed. His opinion about substituting sparkling water for champagne was, “Why not just toast with lemonade as if you were hosting a first-grader’s birthday party?”

  I also needed to ask my best friend, Sheila Davidson, if she’d supply some of her infamous spiked punch for the refreshments table. It was potent enough to warrant a warning label, but delightfully delicious, and would hopefully decrease the consumption of the expensive champagne.

  Why did it seem as if every time I crossed a task off, I added two more to the list?

  Thirteen

  I watched Lariat and Wendy work in perfect harmony with Lily Franks as they finalized the floral selections at the Lily’s-in-Bloom Floral Shop. For the first time, I had complete confidence that the wedding, along with all of its components, would proceed flawlessly. I poured myself a cup of coffee from a Keurig machine on the shop’s counter. I sat back on a tasteful couch, arranged in the corner of the room with a matching chair and modern accent table. On the table was a stack of magazines, including the latest People magazine and several issues of Birds and Blooms. I sipped the fresh brew, content and relaxed. When I felt a tap on my shoulder, it scared the bejesus out of me. I abruptly lurched forward and coffee splashed out of my cup and onto my white blouse.

  “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you,” exclaimed a petite young lady.

  She placed her hands over her mouth like Macaulay Culkin had in the Home Alone movie. Her short blonde, purple-streaked hairstyle would have looked ridiculous on someone my age, but was actually quite cute on the young lady whose irises were so black, they were nearly indiscernible from her pupils. She grabbed a towel off the counter and began to swipe at the fresh coffee stains. All she accomplished was to smear the stains and make it less likely I’d ever be able to “Shout” them out.

  “That’s quite all right, my dear. I shouldn’t have been daydreaming. Hand me the towel and I’ll go rinse this shirt in the restroom.” I noticed a fresh, ugly scar on her wrist as she turned the towel over to me.

  The young lady apologized again before pointing the way to the ladies’ room. “The restroom’s across from the big cooler where we store our floral arrangements and fresh flowers.”

  When I returned from the washroom, the young woman introduced herself as Raven Kostaki. She’d just moved to the area from the east coast and felt fortunate to have landed the job as Lily’s assistant. She’d taken a three-month lease on a studio apartment, hoping to find more permanent housing in Rockdale in the interim.

  Lily looked over, clearly growing impatient with Raven’s lollygagging, and said, “Raven, could you fetch Ms. Starr a bottle of water out of the cooler?”

  I hadn’t requested another beverage, so was certain Lily had sent her away with a specific purpose in mind. After the young assistant left the room, Lily told me about her new hire. “I could tell Raven was in a bad way when she applied for the job.”

  “Does that explain the scar on her wrist?” I asked.

  “Yes. Sadly, it’s the result of an attempted suicide that occurred right before she moved here. My former assistant had recently quit due to a complicated pregnancy, and I was in desperate need of filling the vacancy. I thought Raven could use a break, so I hired her. Raven’s been a godsend, too. She’s got a good eye for creating exquisite floral arrangements. Now if I can only get her to focus on the tasks at hand rather than her recent troubles.”

  As I listened to Lily, I noticed a letter sticking out of the satchel Raven had left on the table in front of me. A sudden feeling I can’t explain compelled me to snap a photo of it with my phone. Before Lily could explain what those recent troubles were, Raven returned to the room with a cold bottle of water for me.

  “Thank you. What made you decide to move to the Midwest?” I asked Raven.

  “Bad breakup, mostly.” With a forlorn expression, Raven looked down at the red welt on her wrist.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I gave Raven a rueful smile. As was my nature, I felt obliged to cheer her up. “I think you’ll find Rockdale a charming place to live. A beautiful woman like you will have no trouble finding suitable male companionship around here. I’ve recently read that men outnumber women nearly two to one in this town. With those kinds of odds, I’m sure you’ll find the one who was meant for you.”

  I’d read no such thing, but short of contacting every citizen in Rockdale and recording their gender, I figured Raven would never realize I was only trying to build up her confidence. Unless she had an “in” with the census department, of course. She seemed to be an individual whose self-esteem was in desperate need of bolstering, and with Lariat and Lily now assisting Wendy, I had the luxury of time to donate to the cause.

  I might as well have used that time finding a cure for cancer or solving the world peace conundrum. Instead of being encouraged, Raven dissolved into a puddle of tears. As a bonus, I’d annoyed Lily while upsetting Raven.

  Lily glanced over to see what the fuss was all about. She then looked at me as if I’d deliberately broken a pact we’d just agreed upon. I realized then her purpose in sending Raven from the room to fetch water for me was to get me on board with her mission to get her new young assistant’s head into the flower game, and off her distressing love life. Lily sounded perturbed when she scolded her new assistant. “Raven, what are you still doing out here? I thought I told you twenty minutes ago to get those six delivery orders ready to ship out. You clock out in just over an hour, and those flowers are hardly going to arrange themselves, are they?”

  I thought Lily’s remarks were a bit harsh. After all, her assistant was clearly overwrought. Then again, I wasn’t the one paying Raven an hourly wage to complete necessary tasks, either. I flashed Lily an apologetic smile and grasped Raven’s trembling hand.

  “It will all work out, honey,” I said to her. “Trust me. You’ll look back one day and wonder why you’d ever been so upset about this breakup. For now, you should probably get back to work. It’ll take your mind off of your woes.”

  Raven glanced at me in disgust and yanked her hand away as if she’d just learned I’d been handling nuclear waste before entering the shop. I’d truly been trying to soothe her, not distress her. I guess I’ll never understand how dramatic this millennial generation can be. It often seems as if every little setback is the end of the world for them. Perhaps I was just as expressive when I was Raven’s age, but the sun had risen and set enough times by now that I’d forgotten those long-ago emotions.

  While Raven sobbed in the back room, Wendy, Lariat, and Lily finished up their business. I
watched as Wendy wrote a check to Lily as a deposit on her flower order. I was sorry I’d upset Lily’s assistant, but glad to mark another task off our to-do list. It wouldn’t be long before we had the entire wedding-planning chore behind us. Then, I’d be able to kick back and relax, enjoy my daughter’s wedding, and happily wave goodbye to the blissful newlyweds as they left for their honeymoon in Cozumel.

  Or so I hoped.

  Fourteen

  The next morning, I sat on the front porch of the inn, sipping coffee from my Tervis tumbler, while waiting for Wendy to pick me up. She had made an appointment to have her hair trimmed and asked if I’d like to tag along. I was overjoyed because, after all, what mother doesn’t like knowing her daughter enjoys her company?

  Even so, had I realized her appointment was with Yvonne Custovio, I might have conjured up a migraine, or a chore I desperately needed to get done that morning.

  “We need to hurry,” Wendy said as soon as I slid into the passenger seat a few minutes later. “Yvonne gets so pissed when her clients are late.”

  “Yvonne? I thought you switched over to Kerri?”

  “I did. But Kerri’s on vacation, so I ended up with Yvonne instead.”

  “Why don’t you try the new salon on Maple Street? They might have a stylist you like better.”

  “Oh, I really don’t mind the way Yvonne does my hair. Truthfully, I just get tired of hearing about all of her sexual escapades, half of which I think are fabricated to entertain her clients. I don’t find them all that entertaining.”

  “Nor do I, dear. That’s why I’m switching over to the new salon next time I have my hair done.”

  “Really?” Wendy asked as we pulled into the salon’s parking lot, which was only a few blocks from the inn. “That’s kind of a shame. I know you’ve been going to Yvonne in recent months, and I think your hair looks better now than ever. I swear, you look like you and I could be sisters. No one would believe you’re my mother!”