The Runaway Bride (2 page)

M
IDORI
!” N
ANCY CALLED
after her. She turned helplessly to the Katos. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset her.”

The Katos glanced at each other. Nancy thought they were acting almost as agitated as Midori had.

Toshiko sighed heavily. “It's nothing you said, Nancy. In fact, I hope you will forgive our daughter. This is no way for her to behave with her guests.”

“Something's bothering her,” George began. “She's definitely not her old self.”

Tadashi stood up. “I'm going to have a word with her,” he said. “She cannot treat her family and friends in this manner—and on the eve of her wedding, of all nights!”

After Tadashi left, Toshiko said, “We're as confused by her behavior as you are. She's been like this since last night. She had a date with Ken, and ended up coming home early. Maybe they had a fight.”

Nancy heard the front door open and close. A moment later a girl came bounding into the living room, a rhinestone-studded denim book bag slung over one shoulder. She looked like Midori, except she was a few inches shorter and had a ponytail with bangs and glasses. Nancy guessed she was about sixteen.

“You must be Midori's sister Mari,” George said. She introduced herself and Nancy.

Mari grinned. “It's good to meet you. Aside from Ken and the wedding, you're all Midori's been talking about lately.”

Nancy was surprised to hear this. Midori's greeting had been anything but enthusiastic.

Mari sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. “Where is Midori?” she asked her mother.

Toshiko told Mari about her older sister's sudden exit. “Your father's speaking to her now. Don't worry—she'll be fine.”

Mari put her tea down, obviously troubled. “But, Mama—” she began.

“We mustn't burden our guests any further, Mari,” Toshiko cut in tersely, then smiled at Nancy and George. The smile struck Nancy as forced. Toshiko was trying to cover up her anxiety
about Midori. “Now, you girls must tell us what you do back in River Heights. Midori mentioned to us that you're a detective, Nancy.”

George filled Mrs. Kato and Mari in on a few of Nancy's exploits. Mari was particularly interested in Nancy's detective work. The four of them chatted for a while, but when Nancy noticed George stifling a yawn, she decided it was time to go. They were both jet-lagged.

The sky was beginning to deepen into twilight as the girls walked back to their
ryokan.

“What do you think was going on with Midori?” Nancy asked George.

“I don't know,” George replied, stepping aside to let a restaurant delivery boy pass on his bicycle. The air filled briefly with the smells of ginger and soy sauce. “I guess it's prewedding jitters.”

“I'm not so sure,” Nancy said slowly.

George looked at her curiously. “What do you mean, Nan?”

“She sounded so happy in her letters, and during our phone call last week,” Nancy pointed out. “Plus, she kept saying how excited she was about seeing us. And she hardly noticed us the whole time we were there! It was like she was on another planet.”

They had reached their
ryokan
. A pink paper lantern hung above the front door, lighting the entryway.

George put a hand on Nancy's shoulder. “I
think your detective's instincts are working overtime. Midori's probably stressed out about the wedding. I bet she'll be fine by tomorrow.”

“I guess you're right,” Nancy said, then her blue eyes lit up. “Hey, I'm starving. Let's ask Mrs. Ito to recommend a Japanese noodle shop.”

“Japanese noodles,” George repeated slowly. “As long as they don't have any of that seaweed stuff in them, okay? I've had my quota for the day.”

• • •

It was a picture-perfect Saturday morning in June as Nancy and George made their way across the grounds of the Hamada Imperial Villa—warm and balmy, with just a touch of a breeze. A few wispy clouds drifted lazily in an azure sky.

The Hamada Villa was a long, one-story wooden structure decorated with gold paint and elaborate carvings of animals, gods, and goddesses. The low, sloping roof was covered with onyx black shingles.

Nancy and George followed the other wedding guests down a path of tiny, multicolored pebbles. It wound around from the front of the villa to the back, where the ceremony was to take place.

Along the way Nancy and George stopped frequently to admire the landscaping. There were flowers of every imaginable variety—purple irises, pink peonies, hundreds of roses. Red carp shimmered in small, lotus-filled ponds.

The pebbled walk ended at a high, semicircular
wooden bridge that arched over a slow-flowing brook. Nancy could see people in folding chairs beyond the bridge and hear occasional snatches of conversation and laughter.

“The reception will be in the villa afterward, right?” George asked Nancy as they crossed the bridge.

“A twelve-course banquet, Midori said.” Nancy chuckled. “I'm glad we had a light breakfast.”

The girls were making their way to their seats when Mari came up to them.

“Hi!” she said, smiling. She was dressed in a lavender silk suit and elbow-length white gloves.

“Hi, Mari,” Nancy said. “How's Midori doing?”

Mari's smile faded. “I am not sure,” she said doubtfully. “She is inside the villa right now. I have been helping her with her wedding kimono for the last three hours.”

“Three hours!” George gasped.

Mari nodded. “It is incredibly complicated. There are slips and underslips and sashes. Anyway, she's all dressed now.”

“Midori was really upset last night—” Nancy began.

“She has been like that for the last two days,” Mari cut in tensely. “I wish I knew why. She will not talk to me about it. My parents say it is her nerves, but I am not sure. Just now she told me—

She was interrupted by a deep, husky male
voice. “Mari, will you introduce me to your friends?”

Nancy turned to see a tall, cute guy in his early twenties moving toward them. He had a square, tan face, large brown eyes, and straight hair, which he wore long on top and short at the sides. He was dressed in a ceremonial black kimono embroidered with silver crests.

“Hi, Ken,” Mari said, anxiety flashing briefly across her face.

Nancy could tell that Mari was wondering if Ken had overheard their conversation about Midori. Mari recovered her composure quickly. “Nancy, George, this is Kentaro Nakamura,” she said smoothly. “Ken, this is Nancy Drew and George Fayne, Midori's friends from River Heights.”

Ken extended his hand to each of the girls in turn. “It is a great pleasure to meet you,” he said enthusiastically. “Midori has told me all about you. If you have the time, I'd like you to meet my family.” He led them to three people who were standing nearby.

Nancy was struck by Ken's warmth as he introduced Nancy and George to his mother first. Yoko Nakamura was in her midforties. She had short jet black hair, high cheekbones, and a small, slim figure. Her elegant magenta suit and ruby and diamond necklace were obviously very expensive.

“You came all the way from America for the wedding?” Yoko said to the girls. She sounded amused. “How cute. Isn't that cute, Seiji?”

Seiji, the man Yoko was addressing, was a middle-aged version of Ken, with the same square face, tall, slender build, and deep, husky voice. His hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a pair of tiny rimless glasses.

He bowed to Nancy and George. “I am Ken's uncle, Seiji Nakamura,” he said simply, ignoring his sister-in-law's remark.

“And this is Uncle Seiji's personal assistant, Connor Drake,” Ken finished. Nancy and George shook hands with a stocky redheaded man in his twenties. He was dressed in a stylishly cut brown suit.

“How do you do,” Connor said in a British accent. He glanced at the girls, then his pale gray eyes darted distractedly about the crowd. He was clearly not interested in them, Nancy realized.

Mari leaned toward Nancy and touched her elbow. “I am going to check on Midori,” she whispered. “I will see you later.” After bowing and exchanging a few words with the Nakamuras, she hurried off in the direction of the villa.

Seiji glanced at his watch. “It is almost time,” he told his nephew.

“I had better go to my place,” Ken said to Nancy and George. “Midori will kill me if I hold
things up.” His face was flushed and his eyes were bright with excitement.

“Good luck,” Nancy called out as he, Seiji, Yoko, and Connor headed up the aisle. Then she and George found seats toward the back.

“Ken seems like a really sweet guy—not to mention a major hunk,” George said to Nancy, crossing her legs and smoothing her green silk dress over her knees. “No wonder Midori's crazy about him.”

There was a flurry of activity up front. Nancy noted that Yoko, Seiji, and Connor had taken seats in the front row. An elderly man in a dark kimono, who was probably the priest, was instructing Ken where to stand. A musician began to play the koto. The plaintive sound coming from the traditional wood and string instrument made Nancy think of ancient Japan.

“But Mrs. Nakamura's kind of a snob, if you ask me—and so is Connor,” George continued. “Mr. Nakamura's okay, I guess—kind of quiet.”

The girls continued to discuss the Nakamuras for a while. Then Nancy said, “I wonder what the delay is. It's after twelve.”

“Weddings never start on time,” George replied.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and still there was no ceremony. People were beginning to stir. Nancy noticed that Ken and the priest glanced
toward the villa every few seconds. At one point Seiji got up from his seat and exchanged a few words with his nephew.

Just then Nancy spotted Midori's father approaching Seiji and Ken. After a moment Seiji shook his head and crooked his finger at Yoko, who rose from her seat. Then the four of them rushed off toward the villa.

“Something's up,” Nancy said to George.

“Maybe Midori spilled tea on her kimono,” George replied with a grin.

Nancy chuckled and glanced at her watch again. Twelve forty-five.

A blond guy sitting a few rows in front of her and George caught Nancy's attention. He was staring off to his right. Nancy could make out most of his handsome—and familiar—profile.

She took in a sharp breath. It couldn't be!

“What is it, Nan?” George demanded. “You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

Nancy pointed to the guy, who was now facing front. “Am I crazy, or is that . . .”

Her words trailed off as she caught sight of Seiji walking briskly back from the villa and approaching the priest. They had a brief conversation. The koto music stopped, then Seiji stepped before the crowd and waved his hands. Yoko, Ken, Mari, and the Katos were nowhere to be seen.

“I think Mr. Nakamura's going to make an
announcement,” George whispered apprehensively. “You'll have to translate for me. He doesn't look happy.”

The crowd fell silent as Seiji bowed deeply.

He cleared his throat. “I regret to inform you that the wedding will not take place.”

S
EVERAL PEOPLE
in the crowd gasped. Nancy and George stared at each other silently after Nancy translated.

“Please accept our humblest apologies,” Seiji went on. “For those of you who need transportation back to downtown Tokyo or to the train station, we will arrange for limousines to take you there.”

People began rising from their seats, whispering.

“I don't get it,” George said to Nancy, not referring to the translation.

“I don't, either,” Nancy replied grimly.

Then she spotted Mari near the villa. “Come on, George,” she said, leaping up. “Maybe Mari can tell us what's going on.”