The Bride Wore Crimson Page 4

  He considered that, then shrugged. “If it was anyone else, then maybe you’d have reason to worry, but Meg is always losing her phone.”

  “Yeah, I thought of that, too. I hope that’s it.”

  “You can ask her yourself in a few seconds.”

  We’d arrived at Cold Feet Café, the diner owned by Meg’s father, Big Finn Reilly, and his new wife, Zelda Love, the town’s resident wedding planner. A sign hung in the window that read CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY. The blinds were drawn, but music escaped from within along with muted chatter and the aroma of something delicious.

  Seth rapped three times; then the door swung open, and Troy stood there, grinning. He was as handsome in civvies as he was in uniform, especially tonight in a polo shirt the color of the sky and gray chinos, his face tanned, his blue-black hair untamed. But for some reason, he didn’t get my juices flowing like one glance from Seth always did. Maybe I wasn’t into pretty boys. Or maybe it was because he’d been Meg’s for as far back as I could recall and therefore eternally “off-limits.”

  “Cutting it close, aren’t you?” he said more to Seth than to me.

  I puzzled at the exchange but figured maybe Big Finn was getting impatient about the meal he’d prepared for everyone. We were ushered inside. The interior resembled a ’50s style diner, black-and-white checkered flooring, a long counter with built-in swivel stools, and booths along the outside wall. The views were of the water and dock areas. I glanced at the familiar faces, pleasantly surprised to note that Troy’s parents were here as well.

  Zelda was perched on one of the stools, looking like “hostess at a beach party” with her crayon-yellow hair, white capri pants, and rainbow-colored chiffon top. Big Finn sat next to her and brought to mind a redheaded Brando in On the Waterfront, black T-shirt and jeans rolled at the cuffs.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” asked Gwen O’Malley. If I were casting Troy’s mother in a movie, Audrey Hepburn would win the role. Gwen had a similar lithe ballerina’s body and wore her dark brown hair slicked off her high forehead in a simple knot. If only she didn’t dress like a Bedazzled Barbie.

  She offered me a plastic champagne glass filled with clear bubbly liquid, then gave Seth one, too. I lifted a brow and said to Seth, “Champagne? Tell me we’re celebrating the capture of the cake server thief and that the purloined item is in evidence or has been returned to Bernice.”

  Seth grinned. “Something even better.”

  Troy’s mother sighed. “A gazillion times better.”

  Troy’s dad, Joe O’Malley, had joined my family standing around the counter and was chatting with Whitey. Except for the color of his eyes, Troy was a younger version of his old man.

  “Don’t you love impromptu things?” Gwen said. “Although I suppose this can’t actually be called impromptu given their history.”

  I swallowed the urge to ask what the hell she was talking about, but then Meg appeared from around the far end counter, coming toward me. Everyone had stepped aside as if to clear an aisle for her in the center of the café. I started toward her, anxious to see how she was doing. But Troy gestured me back and went in my place. Seth pulled me to his side, holding my hand again, making me light-headed. Or maybe it was the champagne.

  Meg watched Troy, her expression uncertain, leery. “What are you doing?”

  Troy cleared his throat and caught her hands. “Meg, sometimes a man doesn’t know what he wants or needs until he looks around and realizes that he had it once but let it slip away.”

  Joe O’Malley said, “Sometimes a man is a dumbshit.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Troy shot his dad a keep-your-yap-shut-you’re-interrupting-my-moment look and then gave his full attention to Meg. “I lost you once when I shipped out. I almost lost you a second time two months ago. And since third time’s the charm, I’m not going to risk it happening again. I’ve always wanted you to have so much more than I can ever give, but I’m older and wiser now. I don’t have riches, but I can offer you a lifetime of love.”

  He went down on one knee. Meg gasped. Her cheeks grew pink. “I did it right this time, Meg. I asked your dad for his blessing, and he gave it. So what do you say? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  He presented a ring, a ruby center stone with white diamonds circling it. “It was Granny O’Malley’s engagement ring. She left it to me to give to my bride, but if you don’t like it, I’ll get you whatever you want.”

  The room held its breath as we all awaited Meg’s answer. I thought she might run.

  “I love you more than life itself,” Troy said. “I always have, and I always will.”

  Meg still didn’t speak, but she began nodding, tears splashing from her eyes. Troy slipped the ring onto her finger and rose, shouting a cheer. He lifted Meg to him and soundly kissed her.

  Everyone began applauding and hooting, offering congratulations. Laughing. Crying. I stood there stunned. I couldn’t stop thinking about this happening on the same day that Meg’s ex eloped. Was this a reaction to that? Or was Meg really ready to trust Troy again and take this next step in their relationship?

  A bad feeling slipped through the excitement in the room and twined itself around my heart. I should be happy for Meg and Troy. Not worried. I gulped the rest of my champagne, praying I hadn’t tossed out my maid-of-honor handbook.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next day, Velda Weeks, Jeanette Corn, and Wanda Perroni, the gossip trio from hell, caught me on my way to collect Meg for our morning jog. I hadn’t slept much the night before and was distracted by the crisp, sunny morning, the sweet, trilling birdsong, the thick salty air, and of course, my ongoing concern for my best friend’s emotional well-being. Otherwise, I might have realized they were gunning for me and managed a getaway.

  But now it was too late.

  “Just the person we wanted to talk to.” Velda blocked my path, her liver-spotted hand landing on my forearm.

  Caught like a fly on sticky paper. The tiny voice in my head screamed at me to run, but good manners kept me rooted in place. Be respectful of your elders had been drummed into me since I was a toddler, and they were all Billie’s age or close to it. Definitely elders. I struggled to be polite, offering a wary, “Oh?”

  “We figure you’ll have all the details,” Jeanette said, her bony hand landing on my left shoulder, the sharp nails biting through my sweatshirt. She wore two insulated cotton tops on her thin frame, covered by an ankle-length jumper. Her hair was in schoolgirl braids. Her gaze resembled that of a wharf cat on the hunt.

  I pulled to my right but bumped something solid. Wanda. Her sturdy chef’s body blocked my escape. Did none of them understand the concept of personal space? I felt like a shrimp about to be gobbled up by three crabs. I considered my options. As much as I’d like to shake them all off and run for my life, I didn’t want to create a scene on Front Street. God knows there’d been enough of that lately.

  If they weren’t going to be reasonable, I would have to be. I exhaled, striving for a benign expression. “I’m really sorry that I don’t have time to stop and chat with you this morning, ladies, but as you know, the expo starts in a couple of hours, and I’m on a tight schedule.”

  “You’re wearing your running clothes,” Wanda said, seeing right through my ruse.

  “Yes,” I said, “running helps my stamina.” And today would require every ounce I could muster. “So, if you’ll excuse me, time is slipping away.”

  No one moved. I swallowed a lump of annoyance. I hadn’t forgiven any of them for snooping into my mother’s love life. Or their grievous treatment of Whitey. If I wasn’t careful, my temper would get the better of me, and I didn’t want to waste a minute fretting about regrets later in the day. “I need to go.”

  Velda leaned closer, and my olfactory senses objected. Had she eaten raw onions for breakfast? The soft breeze picked at her flyaway gray hair, and I prayed for a gale-force wind to knock her sideways so that I could escape. “Well, we need the s
coop.”

  I rolled my eyes. Wanting the scoop was an ongoing reason to live for these three. And since I wasn’t sure what they were after, I said, “I don’t have any scoop. Nope. None.”

  “Hah.” Wanda snorted. “You were there.”

  “An eyewitness,” Velda said.

  “We heard Seth recorded the whole thing. I’ll bet they’re going to put it on YouTube, aren’t they?” Jeanette sighed as if she might swoon, giving me a glimpse at the younger, dreamier woman she’d likely once been. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Since Seth packed a camera the way gunslingers in the Old West used to carry pistols, he was always armed and shooting photos or videos. And that meant I hadn’t a clue what they were fishing for. “I don’t have any scoop about anything.”

  “Don’t pull that innocent look on us.” Wanda gave a disgusted grunt. “You know we’re talking about the engagement.”

  I didn’t have to ask whose engagement. My stomach dipped. How had these three found out about it already? It only happened last night. On the other hand, this was Weddingville. It was inevitable news would spread like wildfire about something as eventful as two local, longtime sweethearts getting engaged. After all, no one who attended the proposal last night had been sworn to secrecy.

  I rubbed a hand across my eyes, wishing I could clear my head of Meg looking caught in the headlights as Troy popped the question. Where was her elation? Her joy? Had she agreed to marry him in response to Peter eloping with Ash? Heck, had she even agreed to marry Troy? I snapped my fingers. That’s it. That’s what’s bothering me. Her nonverbal response wasn’t actually a yes. And knowing Meg…

  “Come on, girl, open up,” Jeanette urged.

  “About time Meg came to her senses,” Velda said.

  I could’ve debated Meg and her senses being in sync, but imagining the battery of questions that would cause, I held my tongue. “I really have to go.”

  Wanda said, “Gwen is so excited she called first thing this morning to book an appointment for her and Meg to sample reception cakes.”

  My giveaway face flashed surprise. I mean, seriously, already choosing a cake made it seem like Meg and Troy intended to marry really soon. The thought nearly choked me. Did they? Now I wanted the scoop. “Surely Gwen mentioned when the wedding was taking place?”

  “She was elusive,” Wanda said.

  “That’s why we came to find you,” Velda added.

  “If anyone knows the date of the wedding, it’s you, Daryl Anne,” Jeanette said, tightening her grip. “After all, you’re bound to be the maid of honor, right?”

  Meg hadn’t asked me yet, but I assumed I would be. I nodded, and the nails biting into my shoulder retracted.

  Jeanette said, “We expect to be invited to this one. You tell Troy and Meg that for me, okay?”

  “Is Meg going to wear the same dress as last time?” Velda asked. “Or something totally different?”

  The thought of Meg’s other wedding gown made me cringe. That dress held so many bad memories and vile stains, it belonged on a pyre. “How could you even ask that?”

  Velda blanched. “Oh dear. I suppose that was in poor taste. Sorry.”

  “Well, personally,” Wanda said, gazing down her nose in disapproval, “I think it’s too soon.”

  “T-too soon?” Velda sputtered. She let go of me and plastered her hand on her sagging bosom. “It’s not like Meg’s other groom died. She dumped his cheatin’ ass.”

  “Well, there is that,” Wanda admitted. “Still…”

  “It’s not too soon,” Velda said a little louder. “It’s years late is what it is.”

  “I always knew they’d end up together.” Jeanette’s face went dreamy again, and she released me to shake a finger at the baker. “Those two are soul mates. I did their charts.”

  The three women shifted toward each other, and I found myself outside their little group. Before they could notice, I took off at a clip. Almost immediately, I heard footfalls behind me. I didn’t look around. If I couldn’t outdistance three senior citizens, then I would donate my new running shoes to the church bazaar.

  “Hey, Blessing, slow down a second,” Seth called out. In my peripheral vision, I saw he was gaining on me. I decelerated, letting him catch up. Tension eased from my body, replaced with relief and gratitude. Like a knight in shining armor, Seth seemed to always show up when needed. I slid to a halt and spun around to thank him.

  He slammed into me, nearly knocking us both to the ground. But he wasn’t alone. Sonny, his big, yellow Lab, skidded to a stop, giving an excited yelp, as if we were playing a new game. He darted around us. Twice. His leash lashed us together as effectively as thread to a spool.

  Sensation carried me away. I lost all awareness of where we were, of the traffic on the street, of shoppers and locals strolling past us on the sidewalk. I was only aware of Seth and the feel of him. I hadn’t expected to find myself pressed full length to the sexiest man in town, but the sensation was like that first sip of morning coffee, warm, bracing, and delicious. That one thing that started your day with a smile. I peered up into his laughing eyes.

  “Nice running into you, Blessing.”

  “You too, Quinlan.”

  From up the street, I heard Velda say, “Well, would you look at that? Folks in this town are getting more action than the local casino.”

  I grimaced, smothering a groan in the comfort of Seth’s solid chest. I wasn’t sure when, but sometime later today, Mom or Billie were likely to get a visit from the Gossip Sisters wanting the scoop on my love life.

  Sonny whined, done with the game. He tugged on the leash as though we’d tangled him instead of the other way around. Seth and I laughed, but the dog was not amused. Seth managed to free his hands, and as he consoled the dog, he freed us from the leash. I stepped back, disappointed at the sudden loss of Seth’s heat, yet feeling a bit awkward at the public display, unsure how to deal with the need I couldn’t tamp or tap. I bent to give the mutt a hug and suffered a slobbery kiss that pulled a laugh from me.

  A shop bell tinkled, bringing me back to our surroundings. Seth offered me a clean hankie to wipe off the dog drool as I stood. We were outside of the Ring Bearer, the local jeweler. Sonny barked excitedly as he saw who was emerging.

  Troy and Meg had been chatting quietly, but the dog’s greeting brought their heads up.

  “Hey, good morning,” Troy said, giving Sonny’s head a pat.

  Seth said, “I think we can guess what you were doing in there.”

  Troy grinned, looking like the happiest man on Earth. Meg smiled, too, but it was more a nervous parting of her lips, like she’d been caught doing something secret and now the whole town would know. I could have told her the whole of Weddingville already did know, but I doubted she wanted to hear that.

  “Did you decide to go with a more traditional ring after all?” I asked, directing my question to Meg, figuring she’d realize I was asking about more than the ring.

  “It’s a beautiful ring,” Meg said.

  It really was. The ruby was huge, offset by a surround of small diamonds.

  “And it’s one of a kind. Like my love,” Troy said, squeezing Meg’s arm. “But some of the tips holding the stones in the setting need to be rebuilt.”

  “And the fit is wrong.” Meg met my gaze, and I wondered if she was being subtle about her fit with Troy. It seemed as though she were silently pleading with me to get her out of this situation. Since I’d felt similarly trapped by the Gossip Sisters a few minutes earlier, I really wanted to help her. I just wasn’t sure which situation she wanted out of. The proposal and impending wedding or this awkward moment with the guys.

  I could choose just one and decided, at the moment, only the latter was in my control. “Did you forget about our breakfast date, Meg? We have some planning to do without any males.”

  “I was just going to text you,” she said, brightening.

  She didn’t mention that I was in my running clothes or e
ven seem to register that she’d forgotten our jog, but I didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart as we traversed our favorite trails. I wanted a sit-down, face-to-face discussion. “I’ve just got time to grab a bite and then I have to get back to the shop. Another day of expo craziness starts in an hour and a half.”

  Troy’s phone buzzed. He checked it. “That’s the sheriff. If I don’t get to the station immediately, my butt will be hamburger.” He planted a kiss on Meg’s forehead.

  Sonny barked, and Seth grinned. “And I have to finish this guy’s walk or I’ll never hear the end of it.” He looked like he wanted to kiss me on the forehead, too, or elsewhere, and I wanted him to more than I wanted to breathe. He chose instead to wink at me. “See you later, Blessing.”

  Before he left, he lifted his camera and took a picture of me and Meg, catching us gazing at each other with solemn expressions charged with private meaning. “You two are really beautiful, you know that?”

  I rolled my eyes, but he was serious, and that sobered me. He didn’t look at the world through everyday eyes but with his own special vision. He found beauty in emotion, in the mundane, in what others might call plain or average. And he captured that beauty in his photographs. I knew. He’d shown me a portfolio of images he’d taken over the years. I was encouraging him to put them together into a book.

  I discussed this with Meg on the way to Cold Feet Café, keeping the conversation light, the topics anything and everything except what we both wanted to talk about until we’d ordered and had coffee in front of us. I opened with, “So, you’re going to marry Troy? For real?”

  Meg’s lips pressed together, forming a thin line, and she was silent a long moment. “I feel numb. Like the last day and a half happened to someone else, not to me. Does that even make sense? It was like I was Seth, watching it all through the lens of a camera. Like it was happening to another Meg. Not this Meg. Not me.”