At Wit's End (8 page)

This hadn’t been the most accurate way to test the program, Wit knew that. He should have put his own name in, or his parents. He considered that for a moment, wondered how IGGY would tell him a person was deceased. He’d save that for when he had time to play.

The morning had gone by swiftly as he’d looked at all the options in the program. He’d lost himself this way before, playing with a system he’d created. Fortunately he’d set an alarm and at 2:00 his computer would automatically save everything, give him 10 seconds notice and then shut all the screens down. It wouldn’t let him access it again for an hour.

He’d learned the hard way not to put a snooze function into this particular alarm set up. Fifteen minutes often turned into two hours and though his boss had been patient with him because of his stellar performance it had been a bone of contention between the two of them.

Before those 10 seconds were up Wit quickly entered the name James Alan Brandt into the
IGGY search bar. He hadn’t consciously made the choice to do it, so technically he didn’t break his promise to Marie. He also knew that technicalities wouldn’t matter. He had a feeling she’d bring the sky down upon his head when she found out.

If
she found out. He’d always been rather adept at keeping secrets. This one had the dirty tinge of betrayal attached, however, and he wasn’t sure he could shake it. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

The woman deserved to get her money back and Wit was going to make sure that happened. Anything aside from the money retrieval, well, that could be for his amusement. Marie wouldn’t necessarily have to know.

Except Wit wanted to see her again. And again. He couldn’t let something small, a petite omission, derail something that could prove very interesting, could he? He wrestled with the idea in the shower and made a decision to not make a decision. He’d let the day flow organically and see what happened. If there was an opening he’d mention it, take the heat and consider grovelling.

The thing of it was, however, that no matter how upset she was, once
IGGY started sniffing, it didn’t stop. Apparently he’d forgotten to put in a Cancel option. He’d made a note of that, of course, and when IGGY finished the search he’d incorporate that into the design. He hoped Marie’s natural curiosity would win in the end when he placed a report in front of her.

A cool breeze reminiscent of the winter gone by blew against the windows of the warm, humid greenhouse on the roof of The Arms building. The contrast of temperatures on the windows caused them to fog which created a close, warm atmosphere for the engagement party. Marie thought it was perfect.

             
The angle of the white clothed service tables was perfect, aligned to give a smooth flow between the different stations. Though she hated to do it, when working in a greenhouse she’d discovered, buffet style was the only option that made sense. That didn’t mean, however, that it had to be dried pasta salad and rubbery chicken breasts. Not on her watch.

A prime rib station and a roast beef carving station sandwiched many different options spread over the four tables. In the centr
e of the display sat a large chocolate fountain smoothly flowing over three tiers and surrounded by strawberries and tiny pastries that were perfect for dipping.

Tiny white twinkle lights and several covered candles were spread around the room, leaving areas the guests weren’t welcome dark but the rest of the room well lit with a golden shine. Burgundy tablecloths covered the round tables and white runners gave accents. Marie had paid special attention to the light pink rosebuds she’d spread at each place setting. The bride hadn’t been specific but Marie knew the exact look she’d wanted and had accomplished it on a frugal budget.

From the ooh’s of the guests as they arrived she’d achieved her goal of intimate, warm, loving and, most of all, young. She’d gone with far more contemporary music than she had chosen for Susan’s dinner party and the guests had loosened up quickly as it played. The pricey champagne flowing through the room may have helped with that.

Several of the servers from Robert’s restaurant had volunteered to help her out tonight for a small fee. Marie kept an eagle eye on them while she worked the room, straightening napkins and ensuring empty glasses were removed. She grinned when she saw Wit come flying through the entrance carrying a large tray. He placed it on the heating element and raced back to the door.

He’d make a great sous chef, Marie reflected. Not a single complaint at a job he’d been given and he had hustle. She’d noted the circles under his eyes and realized he still hadn’t been sleeping nights. She didn’t know if that was normal for him but she’d always believed if you couldn’t sleep at night something was wrong.

Then again, she reminded herself, there is something wrong. He’s in mourning for his friends and hasn’t even touched on the grief. From what she could gather he’d been intent on revenge instead and used his abilities to follow through, hiding in codes and numbers and whatever else those computer guys got lost in. She wondered if he had a gaming console and imagined he had the latest and greatest in toys.

“Ms Chase, you did a fantastic job!” she was distracted from her musings by the sultry drawl of the newly engaged Regina Norris. “I can’t believe you put this all together on that tiny budget I gave you.” She draped her arm around Marie ensuring her diamond ring was in the best light. “No one will ever know I went on the cheap.”

“Now, Ms Regina, are you calling me cheap?” Marie imitated the drawl to perfection and had the woman laughing.

Her brown eyes sparkled and she brushed dark hair over her shoulder when she leaned in and stage whispered, “I thought you said you were bringing some girls.” Regina’s eyes darted over Marie’s shoulder and she looked to see Wit coming through the door once again.

“I did,” she whispered back, “she’s actually post-op. Whitney, now known as Wit.” She kept her face straight when Regina’s wide eyes met hers.

“You have got to be kidding me! That is one fine looking Whitney,” Regina nudged her shoulder. “If my Jason hadn’t snatched me up I’d consider an experiment.”

“You are awful! That’s actually Wit. He’s doing some work for me.”

“I’d say,” Regina purred.

“You’re about to become an old married woman,
don’t you think it’s time to take your mind out of the gutter.”

“Honey, if my mind hadn’t been in the gutter I wouldn’t be turning into an old married woman.” The women shared a laugh. “There are my
Jason’s parents. I’d better be a good daughter-in-law and go say hello. I think we’re still waiting on Jason’s brother. Once he’s here you can switch the music and we’ll get this shindig started.” Regina glided away to greet the older couple standing uncomfortably by the door.

Wit caught up to her as she took a breather in a corner.  He leaned against the wall, casual as a kid on the schoolyard. “How are we doing, Captain?”

“You have got to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll think about it. The night appears to be a success.”

“It is very bad luck to say that before the food’s been served,” she told him, “now I’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t come down with food poisoning or we’ll discover some random allergy.”

“There’s the optimism we all know and love.”

“When this turns horrible I want you to remember it’s your fault. And now I can’t help it, I have a feeling this is going to turn into a disaster.” Marie hung her head for a moment and then shook it off. “It’s going to be great!”

“That’s the spirit,” Wit told her. He reached over and gave her shoulders a squeeze. When he felt how tight they were he started massaging. “I’m sorry I cursed your evening.”

Marie sighed in pleasure. “It’s going to be fine, I swear. We’re waiting for one more arrival, the groom-to-be’s brother, and then the chaotic portion begins. They’ll swarm the serving tables like they’re never going to see a morsel of food again. It’d be embarrassing if it wasn’t predictable and funny.”

“I can’t wait,” Wit told her. He saw movement by the door. “I think that may be him. No one else has come in or out for a while.”

A dark haired man stood in the doorway, turned in a hug with Regina so his back was to Marie. Regina met her eyes and gave Marie a thumbs-up so she went to the laptop in the corner and changed the music selection. A soft rock ballad from the 1980’s began playing and it was all Wit could do not to gag. Most of the crowd seemed to enjoy the change while Wit tried to reserve judgment. He failed miserably.

Following Marie’s example, when he had a free moment he’d clean up empty glasses and dirty plates. He realized people
were lazy at parties and he felt a whole new empathy for the servers at events he’d hosted and attended.

“Bradley Witson! Kid Midas himself!” A heavy hand slapped into his back and nearly knocked Wit forward a step. He caught his balance and turned to the stranger who continued talking seemingly without taking a breath. “I’d heard you’ve been MIA for months and now you’re making a cameo at my brother’s engagement party. Is this serendipitous or what? I’ve been trying to call you, man.
James Brandt, it’s good to meet you.” He stuck his hand out toward Wit who touched it gingerly. He was tugged into a one armed, back slapping man hug.

Wit nearly swallowed his tongue. He nodded a greeting to the man who, once again, continued talking. “How do you know my brother, Bradley?”

Wit didn’t bother correcting his name as that was for friends. “I just met him tonight, actually.” James wore a dark blazer over a blue shirt with black pants, standard fare. Wit couldn’t help but notice the man’s shoes were scuffed and worn.

“Who are you here with? I’d like to shake their hand.”

“I highly doubt that,” Wit said under his breath. “The caterer.”

The man gave him a knowing wink. “Checking out a company for investment, eh? I may have to look into it myself.”

“No, I know the caterer. She’s a friend of mine. I’m helping her out for the night.”

“How the mighty have fallen.” James shook his head to show his sadness over the state of affairs.

“You know how that old song goes, you say tomato and all that,” Wit needed to make an escape from this man and get Marie out of here before she saw him. Instead of taking the brush off the man laughed heartily once more. His charisma was turned on full bore, Wit noted.

“You’ll have to explain it to me over drinks sometime. While I have you here, I wanted to tell you I have a business proposal for you, assuming you can get some scratch together.”

Wit wanted to show the man the Lamborghini he’d driven to the party and instead chose silence. He hoped he looked pensive and not murderous as he thought of the twenty different ways he could incapacitate this moron.

“You think about it, let me give you my card. Call my office and we’ll get a proposal sent right over.”

Wit took the card between two fingers. A movement over the man’s shoulder caught his attention. “Thank you, I’ll get in touch with you,” he said it automatically, dismissively as he stepped around Brandt.

Marie stood behind a service table, solid as a stone. She held a pot of hot coffee in one hand, the other was braced on the ewer she must have been about to pour it into. Wit watched as the pot in her hand went sideways in slow motion before she dropped it.

Hot coffee splashed across the floor, covering Marie’s feet and lower legs. She didn’t notice the pain. “Michael,” she whispered it. Marie felt something tighten in her stomach. The ball of lead she’d carried from the day he’d stolen her money began to heat and Marie felt a hot rage fill her veins.

Her fingers tingled, clenched until her fists throbbed and ached to bash into that perfect, patrician nose. His back was to her as he talked to Wit – what was up with that? – but she’d recognize him anywhere.

As she started forward Wit dodged around James and hurried to her. He slung an arm around her waist, sweeping her along quickly in the other direction. She faintly heard Cindy, one of the servers, ask if she was okay before Wit had her in a dark corner.

“Breathe,” he told her. “Deeply and slowly. Breathe, Marie.”

She whooped in a breath, held it and let it rush out. “This is your fault,” she told him.

“What?”

“You cursed the night earlier, remember? So this is your fault.” She was shaking, in anger or shock she didn’t know. Wit noticed and stepped closer, wrapped his arms around her.

“Sh,” he whispered, and she realized she was crying. When her whole body felt like it was on fire, how could her tears feel hot? Marie struggled against his hold for a moment before sinking in to his embrace. The tears did
n’t come long and Wit admired her self-control.

He lifted her chin and looked into her watery eyes. “The night’s not a disaster yet. I can think of
a million different things I could do right now to change that.”

She blew a heavy breath out with a weak smile. “No, you’re right. It’s not a disaster. It is, however, a tragedy.”

“One that can be averted,” he told her.

She
shook her head. “Of course. Everything is under control. I was scheduled to leave after the meal was served. My gang will do clean up and I’ll come back in the morning to double check. The meal has officially been served,”