Wedding Bell Blues (8 page)

Her eyes were almost as dark as Olive’s, Pete realized suddenly. Not that anything else about her reminded him of a dog. “Right. See you later.”

Olive tugged at the leash in his hand, and Pete turned back toward the door. After a moment, he gave in to his baser self and watched Janie disappear around the corner, gazing at the perfect apple shape of her behind.

He took a deep breath and ignored the slight tingle of arousal in his groin. He was a grown man, and he wasn’t going to get a hard-on over every woman he saw walking down the street.

Of course, he had to admit—Janie Dupree didn’t strike him as just any woman anymore. Unfortunately, she appeared to be attached to that human support pillar known as Otto Friedrich. For some reason, Pete found that thought particularly depressing.

Otto spent ten minutes driving around Main looking for a place to park his truck. He didn’t know why the city wouldn’t break down and build a parking garage—hell, the tourists would probably pay for it in a year.

He figured he had a couple of hours before he had to get back for the afternoon practice. He could entice Janie Dupree away from the cash register for a little lunch and then maybe some heavy petting in the grotto over by the city park.

That wasn’t what he really wanted to do, of course, but Janie had turned out to be a lot slower about putting out than Joe Roy Ellison had led him to believe. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Joe Roy’s stories about Janie and her hot bod, he would have said the hell with it by now. He’d never waited three months for nookie before.

Still, having invested all this time and money in getting Janie Dupree in the sack, Otto wasn’t backing off yet. At least he knew she wasn’t frigid. When he thought it through, he decided she was just a little intimidated. After all, she’d probably never dated anybody like him. He was sort of a local hero around here, what with the team making it all the way to the state semis last year. Maybe she had to get used to the idea he really wanted her.

He’d already planted the seed, told her he wanted to take it to the next level. Now he’d just give her a little more time to get used to the idea. Not too much time, though. Summer was almost over, and he had other things to do.

Otto swung open the door to the bookstore and stepped inside, already sliding his best seductive smile into place. But instead of Janie Dupree or Docia Kent, a large male stood behind the counter talking to Helen Kretschmer.

Otto goggled. Nobody talked to Helen Kretschmer. Helen Kretschmer was a cop, and she was the single most terrifying woman he’d ever seen, the only woman he’d ever thought could take him in a fair fight. Now Helen was not only talking, she was…ye gods…smiling.

At Pete Toleffson.

It took him a couple of seconds to identify the man behind the counter, and then he was doubly annoyed. What was Toleffson doing running the bookstore? And where was Janie? His lunch hour was ticking away.

Helen turned gimlet eyes his way, her smile fading. Otto’s gut clenched.

Toleffson glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. “Morning, Friedrich. Something I can help you with?”

“Where’s Janie?” he blurted.

“Off helping Docia and Reba with something wedding-related.” Toleffson leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m filling in.”

“You’re running the bookstore?” Otto stared. He’d heard Toleffson was a lawyer. What the hell did a lawyer know about running a cash register?

“Filling in, like I said.” Toleffson grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Otto felt a quick rush of adrenaline. He could take Pete Toleffson, even if he was the size of a red oak. No problem. He’d enjoy it. “When’s she coming back? I’m taking her to a party tonight.”

He figured Toleffson already knew about the party, since the party was because of the wedding and his brother was the one getting married, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind the man who Janie Dupree belonged to.

“Oh, yeah.” Toleffson went on grinning. “Janie said I should ride up there with you.”

Otto’s gut clenched again. Goddamn! He wasn’t going to take anybody in his truck except Janie. He had some plans of his own for the evening.

He worked on keeping his teeth from gritting. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.” Toleffson waited a moment before he spoke again. “I turned her down, of course. I’ll ride with my brother.”

Behind him, Otto heard Helen Kretschmer snicker.

Okay, not only could he take Pete Toleffson, he was pretty sure he’d be doing it before the week was over.

Reba’s command center at the Woodrose had become a mass of tulle and satin ribbon, which Janie gathered had something to do with table runners. Reba and her seamstress, Mamie, had dragged Docia away as soon as the two of them had arrived, Reba muttering about strapless bras and body shapers.

As far as Janie was concerned, Docia didn’t need any more shaping than Mother Nature had already provided. She was about as shapely as anyone Janie had ever met, and most of the men in Konigsburg agreed with her, judging by the usual reaction when Docia walked into a room.

Now she stared at Docia as she stood reflected in the three-way mirror. The bottom of her gown looked like a cloud of ivory chiffon. Her satin-clad torso rose above it, a mermaid emerging from a wave, the fabric clinging to her generous curves and shimmering with sprays of subtle, rainbow-colored brilliants.

Just looking at Docia made Janie’s eyes prick with tears. Brides were supposed to look just like that.

Reba ran her hands through the chiffon, lifting it slightly. “Oh my, baby.” She smiled. “Look at you!”

Docia stood silently, staring at herself in the mirror.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Reba turned toward Janie, fumbling in her pocket for a handkerchief. “Isn’t she just so gorgeous?”

Janie nodded, sniffling.

“Oh where’s my mind?” Reba clapped a hand to her cheek. “I forgot all about the veil. Come on, Mamie, I’ll need help unpacking it.” The two women scurried back toward the dining room where Reba had stacked the dress boxes.

Janie glanced at Docia. She stood frozen in the dressing room lights, her face a blank mask.

“Docia?”

Docia let out a breath, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I don’t recognize myself.”

“Oh, honey, I know. I didn’t recognize myself either when I had on the maid of honor dress. It’s just…it’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it?” Janie dabbed at her eyes again.

Docia shook her head defiantly, sending her bronze curls tumbling from the cluster Reba had gathered at her nape. “No, it’s not. I don’t recognize myself, Janie. It’s not me. None of this is me! It’s just pretend, make-believe. How can I go through with this?”

Janie’s fingernails bit into her palms. Reba should be here. Reba would know what to say. She took a deep breath. “Docia, Cal is the most wonderful guy ever. You know that.”

Docia waved an impatient hand. “Of course Cal is wonderful. I’m nuts about him. This isn’t about Cal, or about getting married to him. This is about—” her lips pursed again as she waved her hand at the mirror, “—this. All this…stuff. I don’t dress like this. I don’t look like this. This isn’t me! This is some prom queen or something.”

“Docia, nobody dresses like this normally.” Janie knelt down to fluff out the chiffon cloud again. “But don’t you want to look like Cinderella just once?”

Docia looked down at her, still frowning slightly. “I’m not exactly the Cinderella type, Janie. Can you imagine me being intimidated by a couple of raggedy-ass stepsisters?”

The corners of Docia’s mouth began to inch up again. Janie’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I can’t even imagine you in heels, let alone glass slippers.” She stepped back again. “Oh, Docia, you really do look so beautiful. Cal will just be bowled over.”

Docia stared into the mirror, smoothing a hand over her hip. “Maybe. I’m telling you, Janie, giving Cal the surprise of his life is the only reason I can see for going on with this production. That and making Mama happy.”

“What’s making me happy?” Reba bustled in again, carrying another chiffon cloud, rising from a simple band of crystals. “Here, sweetheart, try this on.”

Docia straightened her spine, letting Reba settle the band of crystals in her hair so that the chiffon dropped in graceful folds over her shoulders.

“Oh, baby.” Reba clasped her hands against her chest. “You look like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.”

In the mirror, Janie saw Docia roll her eyes.

Pete rode to the barbecue with Cal and Mom after all. Docia was already there, having ridden up with Reba, and Pete decided he couldn’t abandon Cal to a solitary drive with their mother.

He loaded Olive’s crate into the back of Cal’s SUV while his mother frowned.

“What’s that?”

“Olive.” He climbed into the front seat beside Cal, strapping on his seat belt.

“She’s a dog, Mom,” Cal explained. “Pete’s taking care of her for me.” He pulled out onto the highway, heading toward the edge of town.

The silence from the back was deafening. Pete took a deep breath and turned around to look at his mother.

She sat with her hands folded over the leather purse resting on her lap. The pattern on her blouse looked like tiny green tarantulas. Pete blinked. Okay, not tarantulas—ladybugs. Freud would probably have a field day with his family psyche.

His mother’s brow was pleated in a frown. “Why are you taking care of the dog when you don’t even live here?”

“Cal needed someone to look after her while he was getting ready for the wedding.”

His mother’s eyes stayed narrow. “How are you going to take care of it while they’re on their honeymoon?”

“Cal has somebody else lined up.” Pete turned back to gaze out the windshield.

“You could stay here then and look after things. Maybe you could take a vacation.”

Pete was careful not to look into the back seat. “I’m on a vacation right now.” He glanced in the rear view mirror to see his mother’s scowl.

“I still think…Mercy!”

The SUV turned onto a dirt road that looked like it had last been graded in the Carter administration. “Hang on,” Cal yelled cheerfully as he pulled the SUV to the side, managing to avoid a car-eating pothole. “Billy’s lodge is back in the woods a ways.”

Mom grabbed the panic handle above the door. “Why would anyone want to build all the way out here—without a good road?”

“It’s real pretty, Mom.” Cal flipped the four-wheel drive switch. “Billy’s tried to get the county to fix the road, but it’s not high on their list right now.”

Cal was grinning again, but Pete couldn’t argue with him this time. This was living, just like the good old days. They’d driven over every cow track in southern Iowa, looking for ways to relieve the general placidity of Lander. And finding enough of them to cause their father to confiscate their car keys on a regular basis. Or Pete’s car keys, anyway, since he was usually the one who let his younger brothers drive.

The road dipped down between limestone cliffs, crossing meadows dotted with the deep olive of live oaks, striped with the lighter lime greens of mesquite. Pete saw flashes of water now and then through the trees.

“Placitas Creek,” Cal explained, sliding right to avoid a particularly nasty washboard rut. “It covers the road once or twice a year, but not enough to keep Billy from getting in and out.”

“Why aren’t they having the wedding out here if it’s so pretty?”

Pete glanced back at Mom again. She was leaning forward in her seat, still holding onto the panic handle for all she was worth.

“Too small,” Cal called back to her. “Buckhorn’s only got room for a hundred or so people.”

“Some hunting lodge.” Pete remembered a couple of pheasant hunting trips he’d taken with Lars. Cal, of course, wouldn’t kill any animal unless it was already in mortal pain. “You don’t hunt up here, I take it.”

Cal shook his head. “Took Billy a while to accept it, but I don’t think it bothers him now.”

He pulled the SUV to a stop at a wrought-iron gate with B K splashed across the middle in brass.

“Tell me again—this is his little ‘get-away place’?”

Cal blew out a breath. “Just open the gate, Pete, you’re riding shotgun.”

The road wound around more limestone hills until the house came into view—an immense wood-and-granite building spilling over the crest of a hill on the other side of the valley. Pete could see the corner of a turquoise swimming pool around the back. Cal parked in front of the triple garage at one side.

He raised his eyebrows, but Cal shook his head. “Don’t say anything, okay? I’m marrying Docia, not Billy.”

“A decision we all applaud.” He helped his mother out of the backseat, then turned as the door of the house opened and Reba and Billy walked toward them.

Reba was wearing knit slacks in apricot with a silk blouse that had the colors of a fall sunset.

Pete heard his mother’s slight sniff as she surveyed the rye-grass-covered yard. “Where are Lars and Sherice?”

“Somewhere around here. That’s his rental car.” Cal glanced back at the other cars parked at the edge of the driveway.

“Everybody’s out by the pool,” Reba trilled. “Did y’all remember to bring your suits?”

Mom looked momentarily as if she’d been asked to perform a human sacrifice. Cal took her arm and herded her toward the swimming pool in back. “C’mon, Mom, let’s go find Lars.”

“Lars and a margarita,” his mother said in a hollow voice.

Janie sat beside the pool between Allie and Bethany. Allie was wearing a red maillot that did great things for her olive complexion. Bethany had draped a denim shirt over her black one-piece and wore a floppy straw hat to protect her from the sun. Janie wore the two-piece she’d picked up at a sale at the Lucky Lady—yellow flowers on a bright blue background. It looked…okay. Not as good as it had in the shop, unfortunately.

She sighed and went back to watching Otto swim. Droplets of water gleamed along the long muscles of his back and arms as they bunched and stretched with his strokes. His short brown hair made him look a little like a seal when he raised his head slightly to breathe.