Drowning in Christmas (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) (22 page)

Bringing up the rear was the big boss himself.
At last, I get to meet the big cheese,
I thought, and found myself face to face with Henry Kozlowski.

“Henri? Is it really you?” I beamed at him, remembering how he had created the spectacular diversion on the fly at the Wadsworth gala when James went missing. He had absolutely saved the evening.

“Never fear,
ma petite
, Henri is here,” he said in an affected French accent reminiscent of old war movies. Then he snapped his gum and gave me a big squeeze. “How's the fundraising biz, Sweetie?” His staff went calmly about their business, unaware of my connection to the nearly disastrous gala.

“I never realized that East Hartford Catering was you. My ex-husband made all the arrangements.”

“That would be the big, good-looking one, right?” he said wistfully. “Why is it that all the really great men have wives?” He sighed. “Oh, well. Not to worry, Sweetie. This meal is to die for.”

“Now I know everything will be fine,” I grinned at him and went to get Armando out of the shower and moving in the right direction.

I found him sitting on the end of his bed, buttoning a white dress shirt. In addition to the shirt, he wore black silk shorts and black socks. Armando's casual, South American relationship with time had always irritated me, and I struggled to keep my temper. “Hurry up, Handsome. The house is filling up with people. I need you downstairs being charming,” I pleaded.

He pointed to a pile of clothes on the floor in front of his closet. Gracie lay snugly on top, her tail curled over her nose. “Nothing fits,” he said sadly. “I cannot button any of those things because I am becoming, how do you call it, piggy.”

“Porky,” I corrected him without thinking, then bit my lip. “Don't be silly. You're not getting fat. You've put on a few pounds, but I happen to like your tummy. So pick something out of that pile, and get downstairs quick. Just leave the jacket open.”

He remained motionless. “I am becoming a fat old man,” he insisted. I gritted my teeth.

“Honey, you're going to be the best-looking man in the room, as usual. So please, please get moving. You can start your midlife crisis tomorrow, I promise. Don't forget to shut Gracie up in here when you come downstairs.”

Throughout our conversation, the doorbell had bonged almost continuously as Jeff and Donna's young friends began arriving. I peeked out an upstairs window to assess the parking situation and was surprised to see Joey greeting the arriving guests. He was directing them to available parking spaces on side streets, which were rapidly filling up. I was filled with gratitude, but as I watched my handsome, capable son, I was also overcome with an awareness of the passage of time. My quirky little nephew Jeff was getting married today, Donna was expecting their child, and my own baby boy was outside my house looking more mature and assured than he could possibly be old enough to be.

I had to remind myself that Joey had routinely managed a seventy-three-foot rig in all kinds of traffic and weather for a couple of years now, and it wasn't only he who had grown up while I wasn't paying attention. His little sister had just had her heart broken, but she was downstairs with a smile on her face handling our guests with aplomb. She was also probably wondering where in blazes I was. I pulled myself together and headed for the stairs. I would just have to postpone my midlife crisis, too.

I was startled to see how many people now occupied the downstairs. Most of them were unfamiliar to me. By one o'clock, the house was filled to bursting, and the noise level rose in direct correlation to the consumption of champagne. I oozed through the crowd in the hallway to take a break in my bedroom and change into something a bit less casual. I closed the door quietly behind me and went to find Jasmine. She looked calmly at me from her snug bed, which sat on the end of the couch, and I sat down beside her to give her a scritch.

“Sorry about the solitary confinement, old girl, but you wouldn't like it out there.” Once again, her deafness was a blessing, sparing her undue stress from the crowd noises outside the door. I remembered that Jeff and Donna were due any minute and hurried to change from my sweater and slacks into a cream-colored suit. The cut of the jacket was ladylike, with a touch of tulle at the collar and wrists, and the short, fitted skirt that showed my legs to advantage always made Armando smile. I slipped my feet into matching high-heeled sandals and tidied away my things. Donna would need a sanctuary of her own, especially if she was still feeling queasy.

I could never understand the custom of combining the marriage ceremony, which is a pretty fraught undertaking all by itself, with a huge party. By the time the celebration gets started, the bride and groom always look glassy eyed, and one wonders if they can even begin to enjoy the event. Then, just when the party is getting good, they are whisked away from their friends to the airport for the honeymoon trip.

It's a good thing photographers commemorate the occasion,
I thought.
If they didn't, the bride and groom probably wouldn't remember or even know about half of the day's events.
I paused with one hand on the doorknob. Among all the lists and menus, had there been any mention of a photographer?

I squeezed my way back down the hall to the living room and waved frantically at Joey, who stood next to a very pale Justine. She smiled at me gamely. I admired her pluck, but was she really well enough to be here?

“Joey!” I hissed, and he made his way through the crowd to my side. “We forgot about a photographer. We've got to have pictures. I need you to get to WalMart or CVS and buy a dozen of those disposable cameras with the built-in film. We'll just hand them out to people and hope for the best. Use my debit card. The code is your birthday.”

“Got it,” he said, “but I'll pay for them, Ma. I forgot to get Jeff and Donna a wedding present, so this can be it.” Without even stopping to put on his jacket, he flew out the front door, almost colliding with a pleasant-faced woman on the porch. Her sober attire and briefcase identified her as the Justice of the Peace, here to officiate, but her whimsically spiked gray hair lightened the overall impression.

“Julie McKenna,” she introduced herself, and I greeted her warmly. I had forgotten all about a J. P. , too, and was glad that Michael, or more probably Sheila, had not.

“I'm Kate Lawrence, the groom's aunt, and the young man who nearly knocked you over is my son Joey, Jeff's cousin. Do come in.”

Julie slipped out of her coat, and I attempted to find an empty hanger in the front hall closet. When I turned around, she and Henry were giggling together in the kitchen as wait staff milled around them.

“May I assume no introductions are needed here?”

“None at all,” Julie assured me. “Henry and I have ushered dozens of couples through their wedding days. What's the menu today?” When I left the kitchen, Julie was ooohing and aaahing over a plate of hot hors d'oeuvres Henry pulled out of the oven.

By one-thirty, the pre-wedding party was in full swing. Armando had finally appeared, dressed in a navy blazer, unbuttoned, and dark gray slacks. As usual, he looked good enough to eat, Henry's hors d'oeuvres notwithstanding. Even the younger women in the crowd eyed him covetously, I thought. Henry leered openly, waggling his eyebrows at me Groucho Marx-style.

“Hands off, he's taken,” I told him firmly, but I smiled while I said it.

Once again, I was filled with gratitude for my terrific, grown-up children. Emma moved easily among the dozens of young people I didn't even know. Some seemed familiar to her, which surprised me. Apparently, she kept in better touch with her cousin than I had realized. When Joey reappeared with a shopping bag full of disposable cameras, he distributed them to Michael, Sheila, Emma, and an assortment of Jeff's and Donna's friends. When I begged off, pleading hostess duties, he handed the last one to Mary. She hooted with glee.

“Where's the happy couple? We need a few shots of the bride getting into her dress,” she hollered to me across the room.

The steady hum of conversation around me waned and faltered. It seemed that all the guests craned their necks in my direction, waiting to hear my reply, but I realized I didn't have one. Julie, Henry and his staff all gazed at me, eyes bright with interest, while Emma and I locked eyes with one thought between us.
Yes, where are Jeff and Donna?

A white-coated waiter appeared at my side. He spoke quietly, mindful of the sudden hush. “There's a phone call for you, Ms. Lawrence.” He flicked his eyes right and left, then leaned in closer. “You'll probably want to take it in the kitchen.”

“So it wasn't morning sickness or the pre-wedding jitters,” I reported mournfully after hanging up the phone. “Donna has the full-blown, gut-wrenching flu, Jeff says, and it hit him, too, about an hour ago. They're a mess. The wedding's off.”

Margo, Emma, Joey and Armando had followed me into the kitchen and stood in varying attitudes of dejection against the counters. An odd light came into Armando's eyes, almost as if he were enjoying this development, but I didn't have time to pursue it.

“Um, Sweetie?” Henry, ever unflappable, stayed focused on practical issues. “My heavenly luncheon is about ten minutes from ruin, and unless you give this crowd something substantial to eat very soon, you're going to have sixty sloppy drunks on your hands.” He smiled kindly at me and raised his eyebrows.

“He's right, Sugar,” Margo agreed. “That is one well-lubricated gatherin’ out there, and there's no point lettin’ Henry's wonderful food go to waste.”

Henry bowed slightly from the waist in acknowledgment of the compliment. Joey and Emma nodded in agreement.

“We'll be telling this story at family functions for years,” Emma predicted and came over to give me a hug.

“Face it, Ma,” said Joey, waving to Justine, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “Come on in, Honey. It's not a wedding anymore, but it's still a really great party.”

“I don't suppose you two would care to take advantage of the amenities and tie the knot?” I asked half-jokingly. To her credit, Justine took my teasing in stride.

“Maybe next time,” she said lightly, and the way Joey looked at her confirmed my feeling that the next time wouldn't be long in coming.

I heaved a sigh that came up from my toes, which were beginning to hurt from standing around in high heels. I kicked off my sandals and held them in one hand.

“Okay, it's official. The wedding is off. Let the party begin. Henry, break out the appetizers. Sorry, Julie,” I said as she wandered into the kitchen to investigate. She took the news philosophically.

“Happens more than you'd think. At least no one's crying this time. Mind if I hang around and have some lunch?” She winked at Armando rather mysteriously, I thought.

“Please,” I said. “It's the least we can do.”

Emma and Joey went to spread the word. I frankly didn't want to be present when Michael and Sheila got the news and slipped down the hall to my bedroom sanctuary. Armando was right behind me. We eased the door closed and flopped onto the sofa, where Jasmine lay napping in the afternoon sunshine. As usual, she was thrilled to see Armando and hustled over to climb into his lap.

“Why is it that you never greet me in this way?” he teased me. He stroked the old cat gently, and she closed her eyes in bliss.

“Oh, I don't know. I have my moments,” I replied, and we both smiled a little, remembering some of them.

We sat quietly, listening to Jasmine's purr and the muted party sounds outside the door.

“You know,” Armando broke the silence, “all of these people went to a great deal of trouble to attend a wedding this afternoon. It seems a shame to disappoint them.”

He continued to pet Jasmine, but the strange light I had first noticed in his eyes in the kitchen had returned. My heart thumped in sudden understanding, and my own eyes widened. We sat for another minute, not daring to look at each other.

“We couldn't,” I said finally.

“Actually, we could,” he replied.

“We don't have a license.”

“We can get it tomorrow. There's no waiting period in Wethersfield.”

“And you know this because?”

“Because Julie just explained it to me. She will be happy to walk us through the paperwork tomorrow and to perform the ceremony this afternoon.”

“You already discussed this with her?” I asked in amazement.

He raised one shoulder and let it fall. “It seemed a good time to ask some questions of someone who would know the answers.”

“What about rings? We don't have any.”

“Those also can be purchased tomorrow. In the meantime, we could borrow the rings of Donna and Jeff, which the best friend …”

“Best man,” I corrected automatically.

“… best man has in his pocket.”

I looked at him.

“I know this because he was showing them to Emma,” he answered my unspoken question.

“You don't think they'd mind?”

“I think they would be very glad to know that the rings they intended to be used at a wedding today were indeed used at a wedding today.”

“Sort of a good luck road test,” I joked.

“An omen of happiness to come for all four of us,” Armando put it more gracefully. “So,
Cara
. Will you marry me?”