|
 Wedding's Widow
Chapter One: Alarm
Bells
Claire
Linden extended a shapely hand to show her large pear-shaped diamond
ring to her therapist.
"It's
gorgeous!" Cassidy McCabe exclaimed.
"It
cost a fortune," Claire said in an uneasy voice, catching her lip
between her small white teeth.
"You
don't sound happy about it." Cassidy sat across from Claire in the
office at the rear of Cassidy's house.
"It
makes me nervous. I mean, what if Max wakes up one morning and decides
he didn't get his money's worth?" Claire let out a small laugh. She was
in her early thirties, slender and sprightly, with a sweet, childlike
face.
If
Max ever dares think such a thing, then he's a pig and doesn't deserve
you, Cassidy thought. Which in fact might be the case.
"Are
you afraid he might stop loving you?"
"I
don't know, I don't know. He really hasn't done anything to make me
doubt him." Claire ran her fingers through her long chestnut hair. "The
other thing is, I can't imagine how he could afford it. I mean, the new
job's going well, but twelve grand for a ring?"
There
are some things about Max and money that don't add up.
"The
problem really isn't Max, it's me. I mean, how can you feel lovable
after being married to someone who told you on a daily basis how
worthless you were?"
Right.
And then he stalked you when you tried to leave.
"You
know, the worst of it wasn't what Hank did to me. It was having Molly
see me act like such a doormat. I hate to think of the effect it may've
had on her—watching her mother be terrorized like that."
"Have
you told Hank about the wedding?"
She
shivered slightly. "I'm going to next week."
"You
still afraid of him?"
"Just
of what he'll say. When I'm right there in front of him, he can still
make me feel like a slut for even thinking about another man. But then
I'll walk out the door and remember the things you and I talked about
and I'll be fine. Hank is all hot air. He'd never do anything."
* * *
"So
tell me about the couple we're driving way the hell out into the
boonies to see get married," Zach Moran said from behind the wheel of
his new red Subaru.
They
were headed south along a four-lane highway an hour's distance from Oak
Park. On either side lay wooded areas with bright green, newly minted
leaves, interspersed with expensive new developments and freshly
plowed, earthy-smelling fields.
"Claire's
a real sweetheart," Cassidy replied. "Mother of a
six-year-old. Married before to an abusive guy. Also had a couple of
abusive boyfriends. She's been working in therapy to break the
pattern." And here's hoping she did. "The guy she's marrying is
a chef at some hot new restaurant in Naperville. Actually, not just a
chef—he's part owner."
"What
is this? You actually tossed me a few crumbs of information."
"If
you didn't expect an answer, why ask?"
"I
must like hearing you tell me in that cranky voice of yours that I
should know better than to ask about clients."
Confidentiality
is never getting to tell fun stories.
"Claire's
pretty open about her problems. She said as long as you were
coming, it'd be okay to fill you in on a little background." Cassidy
glanced at her husband. Smooth dark hair above a bronze-skinned face.
Although he lived most of his life in tee shirts and jeans, he'd
considered the wedding a sufficient occasion to warrant a dress code
upgrade: a designer jacket over a collarless black shirt.
Cassidy
wore a new short-skirted dress, purple silk splattered with
pink flowers, a prize she'd found at her local resale store. Frowning,
she touched a snagged thread, picked off cat hairs. It had looked
pristine when she'd donned it earlier that day, but because she was
never able to resist her cat's wiles, it now resembled all the other
items in her closet.
"I
was surprised you agreed to come with me," Cassidy said. "I thought you
wouldn't be interested."
"I
like weddings. Reminds me of ours." He smiled fondly. "Used to be, I'd
sit in the back pew and wonder how long the marriage would last. Now I
get all misty-eyed." He furrowed his brow. "Look what you've done to
me. Ruined my cynicism. How will I keep my edge?"
Cassidy
screwed up her mouth at him.
"You
know, I was meaning to ask. I'm not sure why we're even attending this
shindig. I thought you never socialized with clients."
"Weddings
are an exception. When I've worked with someone over a long
period of time, I like to celebrate their triumphs. Especially if they
invite me, which they don't always do."
Just
wish I didn't have these teensy alarm bells going off in my head.
So
what's the problem? Claire's crazy about Max. Max says he's crazy about
Claire. No reason to think this won't be a happy-ever-after,
stuff-dreams-are-made-of kind of marriage.
Except
for those few small courtship irregularities committed by Max.
Which you pointed out to Claire but she didn't want to hear.
They
drove through Dorrity, population 4,300, and arrived at a vast green
park, a dozen or so cars at the curb.
Zach
stopped behind a green Jaguar. As Cassidy reached for the door, he
said, "Let me get that for you."
She
sat back and smiled, remembering how snarly she used to be whenever he
tried to get away with any courtly little gestures. What a relief
not to have my guard up all the time against the possibility that Zach
might want to do something nice.
Opening
the door, he said, "Doesn't look like much of a crowd."
"The
wedding got thrown together at the last minute. They only invited a
handful of people."
"And
you're one of them? She must really think she got her money's worth."
"Not
everyone is such a therapy-heretic as you."
"So,
what do you say when people ask how you know Claire?"
"I
lie, of course."
Cassidy
raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright May sun. The
sky overhead was a deep cloudless blue. In front of her stretched a
lush expanse of rolling green parkland, a round concrete-bordered pool
in the middle, curved flower beds ablaze with red and yellow tulips on
either side. Beyond the pool a white gazebo stood in a stand of
flowering trees, about twenty men and women in wedding finery clustered
around it. In the distance a wooded ridge extended across the north end
of the park.
They
strolled in the direction of the wedding party. As they reached the
fringe of the crowd, Claire, standing next to a tall blond man, spotted
Cassidy.
"Cass,
you're here!" Dragging the man along with her, Claire rushed over to
hug her therapist. "I couldn't have done it without you," she whispered
in Cassidy's ear.
A
small glow rose in Cassidy's chest. "Sure you could."
Gesturing
toward the man, her voice filled with pride, Claire
announced, "This is Max."
And
isn't he something. Cassidy gazed into sky-blue eyes that were
fastened warmly on her face. A thatch of corn tassel hair fell across
his forehead. A wide slap-happy grin plastered on his mouth. Looks
shell-shocked. Just how he ought to look on his wedding day. Maybe
it'll be all right after all. Studying him, she noted the
custom-made suit, the Rolex on his wrist. The new restaurant must
be raking it in.
"She
talks about you all the time," Max said to Cassidy. "Guess you're the
one I have to thank for getting her to the point where she's ready to
take the leap again."
"You
just make sure she doesn't regret it," Cassidy said sternly.
"You
can count on it." Max planted a lingering kiss on Claire's mouth. The
bride, in a filmy, cream-colored dress that floated around her like a
cloud, was just as stunning as the groom. A baby's breath wreath
encircled her brow, and her glossy dark hair was pulled into a thick
braid that hung halfway down her back.
She
always seems so innocent. Hard to believe she's a high-level exec,
probably earning twice what you and Zach do together.
They
chatted another minute, then Claire and Max moved on.
Scanning
the crowd, Cassidy tried to identify the players. Claire was
deep in conversation with a matronly looking woman Cassidy assumed to
be her mother. Next to Claire was a thirtysomething woman holding the
bridal bouquet.
Erin.
The older sister who swings back and forth between mothering
Claire and picking fights. Claire had talked quite a bit about Erin
in therapy. She was tall and thickset, with a square face and blunt-cut
hair. She had, however, made the most of her plus-size frame by
attiring herself in a long flowing dress. Erin glanced around at the
guests, her mouth frozen in a camera-ready smile.
Cassidy
suspected that the never-married Erin was less than thrilled at
serving as maid of honor. Can't be easy seeing your younger,
prettier sister sought after by a dashing Max when nobody—not even an
undashing dork—has ever sought after you.
Cassidy
could sympathize. After her ex dumped her, she'd gone through a
period herself when weddings had felt like salt in her wounds.
Zach
draped his arm across her shoulders. "Claire and Max look so happy,
they remind me of us."
Cassidy
stood on tip-toes to kiss her nearly six-foot husband. Solidly
built, with wide shoulders and a thick chest that narrowed to a
not-exactly-slender waist. Not half the dazzler Max is. But you
wouldn't trade him for the handsomest guy in Hollywood. She rubbed
her garnet wedding ring, worth pennies compared to Claire's big rock.
Zach had wanted to adorn Cassidy's finger with a pricey stone but she'd
insisted on the garnet, claiming not to be an expensive-jewelry kind of
girl.
A
young, strawberry-blond woman drifted over to talk to them. "Hey, I'm
Julie, Max's sister." In a loose dress and headband, she looked like a
flower child from the sixties.
After
introductions, Julie tilted her head to gaze at them. Dreamy red-brown
eyes in an elfin face surrounded by curly tendrils of hair. "I'm an
astrologer. At least, that's what I do to earn money. In my innermost
soul, I'm a poet, but nobody pays you for that." She offered a wispy
smile. "But I like astrology too." To Cassidy she said, "I'd love to
cast your chart sometime."
Your
belief in astrology runs neck and neck with your belief in the
National Enquirer.
"Thanks,
but—"
"That's
okay. I run into a lot of skeptics. But I know the charts never
lie." She turned to face the bride and groom. "Isn't Max spectacular?
And Claire—she's just so beautiful. After today, I'll get to be an
official aunt to Molly." She gazed into Cassidy's eyes. "But I'm not so
sure they ought to get married."
"Why
not? Don't their charts fit together?" Or whatever the hell it is
charts do.
"No,"
Julie said somberly. "Something else." She started to wander away.
"Wait,"
Cassidy called after her. "Why shouldn't they get married?"
Julie
threw her another vague smile and kept moving.
Cassidy
heard the sound of whistling and turned to see a
broad-shouldered man approaching from the street. Thrusting out his
hand to Zach, he said in a booming voice, "Nicky Andrews. Used to be
Maxie's boss till he cut out on me."
"Zach
Moran. And my wife, Cassidy McCabe."
"Name
sounds familiar. Haven't I met you before?" The newcomer had a long
snow-white ponytail that contrasted strongly with his tanned youthful
face.
"I'm
a reporter at the Post. Maybe I interviewed you sometime."
"Oh
yeah, now I remember. We talked on the phone about that girl who
disappeared from Le Barre." Nicky punched his right fist into his left
hand. "Couldn't answer any of your questions, though."
"Nobody
else could either."
"Real
tragedy. So, what are you doing here?"
"My
wife knows Claire."
"Well,
glad to meet you." Raising his hand to someone in the crowd, he
bellowed, "Yeah baby!" and took off.
Cassidy
asked, "What story was that?"
"A
girl in her twenties went to a bar one night, got a little drunk,
talked to a lot of people, then just disappeared. Somebody thinks he
saw her on the street later but no one knows for sure. This all
happened a couple of months ago, and I wrote several column inches
about it at the time."
"Of
course. I don't know how I could have forgotten." Cassidy shivered
slightly. "God, it's eerie to think of someone just vanishing like
that."
"People,
people." The minister addressed the guests from the top step
of the white gazebo. "It's time for the nuptials to begin. Please
gather around the steps while Claire's friend plays Bach's 'Sheep May
Safely Graze.' "
Standing
to the left of the gazebo, a willowy woman with straight blond
hair lifted a flute to her mouth, releasing a string of haunting,
crystalline notes.
The
guests shuffled into a semi-circle in front of the minister. As Cassidy
moved into place, she noticed a stony-faced, fiftyish woman standing
beside an elegant man off to the side. Looks like somebody who got
dragged by wild horses.
Claire
went to stand on the left-hand side of the minister, her sister next to
her. At the same time Max took up a stance on the minister's right, his
best man beside him, a darkly handsome fellow whose brooding aspect was
as different as possible from Max's sunny aura. The bride's mother
propelled Molly, a basket of rose petals over her arm, into position
next to Erin. Giggling, the child twisted around to stare at the guests.
Warm
sun bathed Cassidy's face; the fragrance of spring filled her nostrils.
A flock of small brown birds landed on the gazebo roof and commenced to
make raucous conversation. Molly wandered away from her post, threw
rose petals at another young girl, then scurried back to stand beside
Erin.
Cassidy
smiled to herself. How silly of you to go mother-henning
Claire. Compared to all the grief Zach gave you at the beginning, Max's
infractions hardly even count.
As
the music ended, the minister looked out over the crowd. "Let's begin
this blessed day with a prayer." Cassidy lowered her head slightly.
"Holy father, I give into your keeping Max and Claire. May they live
always in the light of your—"
Max's
head jerked wildly. Blood flew in all directions, drenching Claire's
delicate cream-colored dress. The crack of a gunshot. Screams. Zach
pushed Cassidy to the ground, covering her with his body. Peering
through his arms, she saw Claire down on all fours, her mother and
sister crowding in next to her, the best man hovering nearby. Molly
tugged at Claire's bloody dress and wailed.
Order Wedding's Widow from Amazon.com
|
