Jill Churchill - A Groom With a View

And if that were true, was he also responsible for Mrs. Crossthwait's death? Or were she and Shelley wrong in thinking the two events were connected in any way? Uncle Joe had certainly been annoyed with Mrs. Crossthwait, but then he'd been annoyed with everyone. And Mel hadn't mentioned any sort of old or recent relationship between them after his gossip with the local law enforcement guys.

Still brooding over this, Jane finally got around to eating a croissant. That and another cup of hot,strong coffee would certainly get her brain cells to all wake up. She hoped.

The table and chair people arrived right on time and set about efficiently and quietly moving all the main room furniture back against the walls. They put the furniture in pleasant and attractive groupings, rather than letting it look like it was just shoved out of the way. Jane was impressed. She'd feared the room would end up looking like a warehouse.

The ivory folding chairs were set in tidy rows and really brightened the room. So did Larkspur's efforts. Since the bride and groom would be facing the audience, he arranged what he called a "frame" for them of flowers. Two very pretty potted willows to the side and a mass of hothouse tuberoses, white delphiniums, and tall pink cosmos in vases in front of the little trees. The wide stairway had a pot of pink tulips matching the bride's bouquet at the end of every other tread. Jane hadn't liked this idea when he proposed it because she was afraid the bride's skirt would brush against the pots and she'd arrive with dirt all over her. But the stairs were broad enough that Livvy would have to go well out of her way to kick the pots over. The flowers scented the musty room and looked lovely.

“For the first time, I feel this is actually going to work," Jane said as Shelley joined her in watching the transformation.

“I hate to say this, after all the jokes I've made, but it really looks grand," Shelley admitted. "Either Jack or Livvy must have sensed that this dismal old place could be made beautiful. Who'd have thought?”

Jane went to clean up, knowing the next few minutes would probably be her only free time. When she came out of her room in her lilac suit with the long flowered scarf, clean, curled hair, and a fast but pretty good makeup job, she ran into Mel in the hall. He was just coming out of his room.

“Wow! You look great!" he said.

“Why, thank you," she said, doing a little pirouette, hoping to elicit further compliments.

What she got was a kiss that made a mess of her lipstick and threatened her hairdo. She pulled away, grinning. "Now I'm going to have to start over."

“Need some help?"

“No, thanks," Jane said with a laugh. Then, more seriously, she asked, "What did John Smith think of the seam binding Shelley and I found in the attic?"

“Just what you thought. That it was probably stretched across the stairs and then removed. It doesn't give him any leads on who the perp was, but it'll come in handy when he knows that and it goes to court. It indicates planning, rather than sudden passion."

“ 'Sudden passion' doesn't seem a phrase that has much to do with Mrs. Crossthwait. So who was the ghost last night?"

“Uncle Joe. In a gray blanket. He was being the ghost of a monk for the benefit of his half-sisters.”

“Benefit?"

“His benefit, actually. They'd apparently been talking about staying on for a while. He remembered them as girls, getting themselves all in a twit over ghosts of monks, and thought it might scare them off."

“He told you this?"

“Not very willingly. And he was pissed as hell that it was you and Shelley who came out of your rooms instead of them. Silly old man."

“Have you run into Iva this morning?" Jane asked.

“With the shiner?"

“Right. What happened to her?"

“That was later. She was prowling around doing God knows what and saw a light in the pantry. She'd gotten on her knees to try to peer through the keyhole. Joe was in there, heard scuffling, and opened the door. Got her in the eye with the doorknob. They both confirmed that story."

“Have you been up all night long trailing around after them?" Jane asked.

“Most of the night."

“Why? Why not let them just barge around running into each other?”

Mel put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Because one of them could very well be a killer and you don't have a lock on your door."

“You stayed up all night to protect me? Oh, Mel—"

“Don't go sappy and get any ideas about my making a habit of it," he said. "We're all out of here this evening. And the next time I miss another night's sleep for your sake, it's going to be for much more enjoyable reasons.”

Eighteen

Luncheon was a hasty, eat-on-the-run affair, complicated by the fact that several of the out-of-town guests, bored senseless at their cheap little motel which didn't even have cable television, as they kept saying to each other with wonder, came early and got underfoot. The two musicians, a married couple from Novelties, whom Jane had nearly forgotten about, turned up with a flute and violin. They were attired in black and looked like they'd come for a funeral.

Jane went down the hallway to the little rooms to check that everyone was getting along all right. Everybody was trying to get cleaned up at once and since all were on the same water supply along the hallway, there were occasional yelps and shouts as toilets were flushed in some rooms at the same time showers were going on in others.

In spite of everything bad that had happened, Jane sensed a genuine air of festivity now. Layla and Eden kept running up and down the hall in their bathrobes like schoolgirls in a dorm, borrowing toothpaste, hair spray, and makeup. Kitty in particular seemed obsessed with looking as good as possible. "I think this hem is uneven," she wailed at Jane.

“Nobody will notice and it's too late to fix it," Jane said mildly, even though Kitty was nearly in tears. She had lost patience with Kitty. It was the bride who was supposed to be hysterical, not the bridesmaids.

Mel popped out of his room asking if he could help her with anything.

“No, thanks. I'm just looking for brushfires to put out. And not, thank God, finding any yet.”

Jane went through the main room. Early guests sat in the chairs and sofas around the sides of the room, keeping the wedding chairs inviolate. Jane went upstairs to the master bedroom to see if she could help Livvy. "Is there anything you need before you get dressed? Hairpins? Perfume?" Jane asked.

Livvy was sitting at the window, gazing out as if bored. "What? Oh, no. But thanks anyway.”

“Are you okay, Livvy?”

The young woman smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Just fine. I'll just need help getting into the dress when it's time."

“Have you had lunch?"

“I think so. Yes, yes. A sandwich. I've heard

some cars arriving. Should I be greeting guests?"

Jane laughed. "No, it's like a play, Livvy. The lead actress isn't seen until the curtain goes up. She doesn't hang around in the lobby.”

Livvy's smile was genuine this time.

She's just nervous, Jane told herself, going back down the wide steps Livvy would descend in an hour. Brides were supposed to be nervous. Livvy was about to commit herself in the most important ceremony in her life. Baptisms, recitals, even hard-won graduations were nothing compared to wedding ceremonies for making everyone nervous. Marriages often failed later. Jane's own marriage had failed without her even realizing it until it was too late. But going into marriage, saying vows, and observing the ancient rites still had the power to seem a "forever" decision.

For the first time in a long, long while, Jane found herself thinking about her own wedding, a few weeks short of twenty years ago now. Her mother had wept. Jane thought it was from happiness, but it might not have been. Her father had treated her like a porcelain doll and told her that she'd always be his daughter, no matter whose wife or mother she became. Her sister Marty had worn a red dress she knew Jane hated. Typical of Marty. Her mother-in-law Thelma had worn a gray dress, but obviously longed to wear black. It had been an even smaller wedding than Livvy's because Steve's family lived in Chicago and Jane's only family were her parents, sister, grandmother, and honorary uncle Jim. And it had been held in the Jeffry family's church without all the elaborate flowers and catering. But Jane still re‑ membered every moment of it with fondness. She'd even liked Marty and Thelma that day.