A Bad Day for Romance (11 page)

Chrissy’s mouth fell open as Stella rounded the corner. Stella winced at the girl’s reaction. “I knew it! Oh, damn those old biddies.”

“Holy shit,” Chrissy breathed. “Do a spin for me.”

Stella sighed and twirled, Marilyn Monroe style. The move didn’t manage to so much as riffle the hemline, however, since it was pulled taut.

“If you been wondering if it was worth it putting yourself through all them push-ups and crunches and karate and whatever, I guess you got your answer right there,” Chrissy said admiringly. “Woman, you’re hotter than Hades. Why, I don’t believe I’ll come anywhere near you all night ’cause you’ll just suck up all the attention wherever you go.”

Stella stood a little straighter and squinted down at herself. The dress did showcase her shapely biceps, it was true. And Novella had done a clever little bit of ruching across the midsection that created the illusion of whittling around the waistline. And the bra Stella had bought for the dress was still perfectly serviceable, cradling her assets lovingly even if there was far less fabric to cover them than before the old ladies got to work.

“Baji quan,” she said modestly.

“Huh?”

“I don’t do karate, I do baji quan.” Stella did a quick rake-fist slash to demonstrate. She’d been studying the obscure Chinese martial art with Mr. Hou long enough that the moves came easily, whether she was merely training or delivering a decisive blow to a stubborn abuser’s sternum. “You really think it looks okay? Not too… provocative?”

“Well, you don’t want to be taking the focus off the bride to be, so maybe keep your shawl on through the toasts. But, Stella, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful, in a do-me-now kind of way.”

Stella smoothed down the silky fabric over her hips. “Too bad it’s going to go to waste,” she said. “What with BJ laid up and all.”

“Aw, now, Kam’s got half a dozen groomsmen, why don’t you just see what develops over dinner?”

On the way down the labyrinthine halls of the resort, Chrissy laid out all the different scenarios Stella might pursue with the much-younger engineers and customer-service specialists and process consultants among Kam’s groomsmen, refusing to listen to Stella’s protests that they were all far too young for her. As they approached the ballroom, the strains of a familiar tune reached her ears.

“ ‘Wouldn’t It Be Loverly’!” she exclaimed.

“Huh?”

“That song—it’s from
My Fair Lady
.”

“My who?”

Stella was about to excoriate her partner for the sin of being far too young, since she had no memory of any cultural milestone before the midnineties, when she stepped into the party and found herself shocked into silence.

Several dozen revelers were already in high spirits, clustered around the cheese cubes and the help-yourself bar and playfully batting at the paper wedding bells suspended from the ceiling. Kam was at the center of an enthusiastic cluster of female relatives, all of whom seemed determined to straighten his tie or pick threads off his sleeves or pat down an errant lock of hair, while Dotty looked on with her hands clasped in delight as if she were contemplating a mound of butter-pecan ice cream. Half a dozen young men—undoubtedly the attendants whose charms Chrissy had been touting—clanked beer bottles in a rowdy toast. Judging from the nearby table of empties, these were far from the first of the evening.

But none of these were what drew Stella’s gaze.

Over by the salsa bar, wedged between a waiter holding a tray of miniquiches and a young man of about thirteen, who was double-dipping from the guacamole, was a tall, lean, glowering drink of water in a pale-gray shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes.

When Goat Jones saw Stella, he unfolded his arms and the corner of his mouth twitched and he reached her in about half the number of strides it would take an ordinary man. He took his time looking her over, starting at her face and letting his gaze rove down her dress, all the way to her sparkly shoes, and just as slowly back up. He reached out one big, strong, callused hand and flicked the curly strands that had escaped the pins in her hair.

“What do you call it, when you ladies put up your hair like this?” he finally said, the rumbling timber of his voice somehow managing to flip the mute switch on every other conversation in the room.

Stella swallowed, and licked her lips. “Um, a chignon. I guess.”

Goat nodded, as though the answer was just what he was looking for and he was filing it away for future reference. Then he cleared his throat.

“I believe I owe you an apology, Stella Hardesty. It’s my fault your date for the weekend is lyin’ in bed an hour away instead of standing here by your side.” He let go of her hair and his fingers grazed the edge of her jaw, sending off alarms up and down her spine. “But somehow, I can’t bring myself to say I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and stalked out of the room, not casting so much as a backward glance her way.

CHAPTER NINE

“I PLEADED WITH HIM EVERY WHICH
way from Tuesday to stay for dinner,” Dotty said. She’d seated Stella at the attendants’ table and switched the place cards so they were next to each other. The rest of the attendants—including Dotty’s niece, who was evidently in the market for a software engineer with a Chicago accent and a goatee, since she’d glommed on to exactly such a groomsman and not yet come up for air—had gotten well acquainted over dinner and now that the dessert course was finishing up, a festival atmosphere had settled in. “But he said he wouldn’t dream of it since he’s not in the wedding. So then I told him half of these folks aren’t either, and besides you need a date, and that just got him all flustered and he went and stood over there by the chips until you got here.”

Kam’s groomsman took that moment to suavely hook his arm around Dotty’s niece’s shoulders, accidentally dislodging Stella’s purse and knocking it to the floor. The lad was too lovestruck to notice.

“My, my, love certainly does seem to be in the air,” Dotty said, elbowing Stella in the ribs as she picked up the fallen purse. “Might be you could finally get together. It’s about time.”

Before Stella could do much more than sputter in response, Kam came over, trailing his sisters. “Mom’s had one too many,” he said grimly.

Soorat added, “She’s threatening to call up Kam’s old college girlfriends.”

“Oh no,” Dotty gasped, a hand at her throat.

“Don’t worry,” Rashita said hastily. “It’s going to be okay. Mom loves to dance. Why don’t you two open up the dance floor, and then we’ll take it from there.”

Kam offered Dotty his arm, which she accepted after shooting a worried glance at Stella. As if on cue, the hired DJ, who’d been spinning show tunes all evening, launched into “You Were Meant for Me” from
Singin’ in the Rain
.

After the first few spins, Dotty relaxed in Kam’s arms, and even seemed to start enjoying herself. Before long, Soorat and Rashita dragged their mother onto the floor, and Stella was relieved to see her grinning as she twirled and bumped.

Stella couldn’t help feeling a little bit wistful as other couples joined the first dance and the song gave way to “I Have Dreamed” from
The King and I
. Chrissy, passing by on the arm of a red-faced and loose-limbed Deputy Lloyd Hubbard, gave her a wink that was anything but subtle.

After the song wound down, Kam went to have a word with the DJ, commandeering the microphone while the young man played an instrumental medley at a low volume.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Kam started. His sisters, who had taken their seats with their mother securely wedged between them with no way to escape, immediately started clanking silverware against the glassware. They were soon joined by everyone who was seated, while the dancers gathered themselves or, in the case of Dotty’s niece and her new beau, disentangled themselves so as to give their full attention to the groom.

“I hope you’re all having a nice evening,” Kam said politely. This was greeted by stomping and hooting and more applauding, which he attempted to quell but eventually had to simply outwait, as sometimes happens late in a well-lubricated evening. “I have a little announcement to make. Dotty and I have been talking, and—well—since she and me are joining up to become one and all, it got us thinking about family and how important it is and, see, we just don’t feel right getting hitched without her whole family attending.”

“Kam!” Dotty exclaimed. To Stella she stage whispered, “I had no idea.”

“But I’ve been in touch with Tilly and Taffy and they tell me that their, uh, legal counsel assures them that while their, um, certain family members are unfortunately detained over the weekend, they’ll all be free to join us on Monday.” He coughed delicately, though Stella knew there wasn’t a single person in the room who hadn’t heard that Divinity was in the lockup. “And as luck would have it, this fine resort was able to fit us into the Galena Room at seven p.m. Monday evening. It’s just going to be a simple service, but all of you are welcome, and the resort is extending the special low rate through Sunday night. And since we got the photographer and flowers and the band and all scheduled for tomorrow night, why, we’re going to go ahead and have the reception then.”

“Wait just one minute, young man,” Shirlette called from her table. “Y’all are calling off the wedding?”

“No, they just postponed it,” Novella shouted at her. She had always had superior hearing, a fact which she enjoyed lording over her friends.

“Is she pregnant?” Shirlette demanded, earning a hearty round of laughter.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this beautiful woman,” Kam said, staring at Dotty as though overwhelmed all over again by his good fortune. Stella snuck a peek at Mrs. Rangarajan, who looked unamused.

“One more thing,” Kam added when he was finally able to drag his eyes off his fiancée, his smile turning sheepish. “The, uh, guys are all going out for a stag party in about ten minutes. All you men are invited. Meet us in the lobby. And, ladies, don’t worry, we’ve got a designated driver, even if I did have to fetch him out of the bar. Say hi, sheriff.”

All eyes turned to the back of the room, where Goat was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling even more fiercely than he had early. He gave a slight nod as the room broke into cheers.

Kam surrendered the mic back to the DJ, and as the strains of “Don’t Rain on My Parade” filled the air he slid in the chair next to his bride.

“I didn’t know you’d met the sheriff,” Dotty said.

“I didn’t until just now, but I do believe he’s the only sober guy here. I found him in the bar hunched over a club soda.”

As Kam gave his bride to be the sort of good-bye kiss that brought to mind an oceangoing departure from which he might not be expected to return, rather than a separation of a few hours, Stella was about to excuse herself when Lloyd showed up, looking disgruntled.

“You seen Chrissy?” he asked. “We were going to run into town for some smokes and now I can’t find her.”

Stella scanned the room, realizing she hadn’t seen Chrissy for quite some time either. “When did you last see her?”

“Oh, ’bout an hour, I guess. She went up to fix another plate of tacos and never came back.”

Stella would have dismissed her partner’s absence as an attempt to evade Lloyd, except that Chrissy was absolutely dogged when on the case. Stella was quite certain Chrissy wouldn’t have given up until she’d wrung every bit of useful information from the deputy.

A frisson of worry sealed the deal—a raising of the hairs on the back of her neck. Stella had learned not to ignore her instincts. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “But just in case, let me take a look around.”

“Where all you gonna look?” Lloyd said, in the manner of a woebegone hound.

“Oh, just—here and there.” A buzzing from her jeweled evening bag got her attention. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

On her way to the ladies’ room, her standard choice for answering off-hours phone calls that could potentially be coming from current or future clients, Stella took a peep and saw that it was Chrissy calling. “Where’d you run off to?” she said by way of hello.

“Golf course,” came a strangled whisper.

“What?”

“Hurry.” The connection was broken.

Stella stared at the phone for the two seconds it took her to switch into on-the-job mode. Then she started running, an exercise made more difficult by her shoes, but unlike Chrissy she didn’t know if she could navigate the resort barefoot.

And she had to get to the golf course, fast. She had no doubt that Chrissy was in some kind of trouble, because her assistant didn’t make pleas for assistance lightly. No, this was not likely to be a case of Stella being needed to zip up her dress or pin up a fallen hem. If Chrissy was in over her head, it was dire indeed.

Out in the circular entrance, a variety of cars, ranging from beat-up pickups to a gleaming stretch limo, lined the drive. Stella ran past them and spotted what she was looking for. She leapt into the golf cart that some guest had driven to dinner and floored it.

Stella was not a golfer, but her departed husband Ollie had been. Stella couldn’t count the number of times that he’d begged off weekend chores by reminding her that he deserved a little rest after his long workweek, leaving Stella to wash the breakfast dishes and clean the house and wonder when the hell the day would arrive when she too deserved some rest.

Ollie had been bitten hard enough by the golf bug that he briefly owned a cart of his own, which he drove down to the public course east of Prosper until one night he stopped for a beer or six at a tavern on the way home and put the cart upside down in the ditch. It was Stella who had to go fetch it and get it upright and drive it to the course, where she attached a “For Sale” sign to it, so she knew exactly what to do to get this one moving.

The cart didn’t exactly hurtle down the resort road, but it went faster than Stella would have in her heels. She didn’t hesitate before driving right onto the green. Lacking a horn, she started hollering.