Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

"Sorry. It's been a bad morning." She stepped aside so Jamie could enter, and then closed the door behind her. She suddenly noticed that her friend didn't look so good. "What's wrong? Are you ill? Are you having second thoughts about getting married? That's perfectly normal, you know. A lot of brides and grooms get cold feet. Getting married is one of the most stressful events in our lives, even if you love that person deeply." She had to pause to catch her breath. It was the spiel she often gave brides.

"Do I really look that bad?" Jamie asked.

The last thing Annie wanted to do was hurt her friend's feelings. Again. "Oh no, it's just—"

"I'm on a diet," Jamie said. "I'm so hungry I could eat dirt."

"Let me make you something," Annie offered, then wished she hadn't. She did not want Jamie to meet Wes Bridges and have him recount the morning's events to her, and his belief that Annie was a threat to society.

Jamie shook her head. "I can't eat. I have to lose seven pounds before the wedding." She groaned. "I've never really been on a serious diet," she confessed. "Fleas and I live on double cheeseburgers, butter pecan ice cream, and my first true love: doughnuts."

"Uh-oh," Annie said. "Having trouble fitting into your wedding dress?" Annie knew Dee Dee Fontana, Max's sister and Jamie's soon-to-be sister-in-law, had insisted on flying Jamie to New York to meet her designer, a Frenchman who created gowns for the rich, the famous, and the royals.

"I fear facing that dress," Jamie confessed. "Although it is absolutely gorgeous, the material clings to every curve and is unforgiving of the slightest weight gain. And I've been so anxious about the wedding and leaving the newspaper for my honeymoon that I wasn't paying attention to how many doughnuts I was eating."

"Would you like to go over the menus at another time?" Annie asked, hoping they could reschedule.

"I'll be okay." Jamie glanced about. "Um, should I have left Fleas in the car?"

"He's safe," Annie said. "I put Attila-the-cat out earlier." Annie couldn't help but smile at the homely bloodhound Jamie had inherited when she'd purchased an old pickup truck. The dog had been part of the deal. Annie patted his bony head. "How are you this morning, handsome? You look a little sad."

"That's his woe-is-me look," Jamie said. "Since I've been on my diet we haven't had any i-c-e c-r-e-a-m in the house."

"Poor baby," Annie said to Fleas.

"Then yesterday he caught me sneaking my s-u-i-t-c-a-s-e-s from the attic. You know how he gets when I l-e-a-v-e him."

Annie nodded. "Okay, let's go into the dining room. Would you like something to drink? Or maybe some carrot sticks?"

Fleas slid to the floor, covered his eyes with his paws, and gave a mournful sigh.

Jamie shook her head. "No thanks. Vera has been force-feeding me carrot and celery sticks for two days. She won't even let me have cream or sugar in my coffee."

Annie chuckled. Sixty-year-old Vera Bankhead was Jamie's secretary and assistant editor. The fact that she was a strict Southern Baptist did not stop her from carrying a loaded Smith & Wesson.38 in her purse, which she had been known to use. "Well, you certainly don't want to cross Vera."

"I almost prefer her shooting me point-blank to eating another raw vegetable," Jamie said.

Annie led Jamie into the large dining room, and they took a seat at the long table, a custom-built replica of an 1820 Imperial Extending Table, only this one was adorned with bronze and gilt, as was most of the furniture in the house, with the exception of the kitchen, which had been added on long after the house was built. Numerous leaves could be added to the table so that it could accommodate thirty people. A massive Regency gilt-wood mirror almost covered one wall, reflecting light from the chandelier. On the opposite wall, a large bowfront sideboard held Annie's grandmother's fine silver and china. As a young girl, Annie had thought the dining room one of the most spectacular rooms in the house.

Until she realized that the deep red walls, black and red velvet draperies, and naked cherubs painted on the ceiling were not exactly tasteful. Not to mention the silk tapestry of women in highly suggestive poses. Unlike her mother, who considered it tasteless and downright disgraceful, Annie had learned to take it in stride.

Except for the large marble, phalliclike sculpture that had been placed beside the graceful free-floating staircase in the foyer. Annie had been twelve years old when she'd asked her grandmother why anyone would want a carving of a man's thing in the entryway.

The elderly woman had chuckled. "It's art, dear. And it's been in this family for many years."

Annie had broken a cardinal rule when, after her grandmother's death, she'd packed the sculpture and had it carried to the attic.

Annie noted the amused look on Jamie's face as she took it all in. "Are you sure you still want to get married here?" Annie said.

Jamie looked surprised. "Why wouldn't I? You have a reputation for putting on the finest weddings money can buy."

"Yes, but the guest list doesn't usually include senators, heads of state, and tycoons. Some people might find the house, um, offensive."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't have so many people wanting to marry here." She sighed. "I just hope none of the guests talk," she said. "I have never seen a man more determined to avoid the press than Max."

"People have a right to their privacy," Annie said. "Even celebrities. And Max shouldn't have to deal with TV cameras and newspaper reporters on one of the most important days of his life." She reached for a manila folder that was simply labeled: H. Wedding. Thankfully, it was quiet in the kitchen. "By the way, how is Max?"

"He's working hard to tie up loose ends before we leave for the honeymoon, which he still insists on keeping a surprise."

"Everyone is talking about the new polymer plant he's building," Annie said. "It's going to create a lot of well-needed jobs in this town."

Jamie nodded. "And hopefully save the lives of a few motorists. It's the same material that was used to build Max's car. He and a NASA employee experimented for a couple of years to make the product more durable, and I can tell you it's stronger than steel. A leading car manufacturer is anxiously awaiting the first sheets to come off the production line."

"You must be very proud of Max," Annie said, and then grinned. "I know it's a little soon to ask, but have you talked about starting a family?"

Jamie's smile suddenly drooped.

"Uh-oh, wrong thing to ask," Annie said, wishing she could take it back.

"I'm scared, Annie. Terrified. I don't know anything about being a wife; what on earth would I do with a child? I don't even know how to raise this dog. I mean, look at him," she said, pointing to Fleas. "He has no self-esteem."

As if trying to prove her point, Fleas managed to look even more pathetic.

"Take a deep breath, Jamie," Annie said. "It'll be okay."

Jamie sucked in air.

"Like I said, you're just having pre-wedding jitters and that's perfectly normal. And nobody says you have to have a baby. Oprah Winfrey doesn't plan on having kids, and everybody adores her."

"Yeah, but I sort of want a family," Jamie said.

Annie suspected as much. Jamie's mother had left while Jamie was still in diapers, and her father had not been able to fill the gap. "So take your time and stop stressing over it," Annie said. "You'll know when you're ready." She laughed. "I mean, good grief, Dee Dee's going to have a baby in how long?"

"Three weeks. But she doesn't count, because Frankie has hired three nannies."

Annie chuckled. Frankie and Dee Dee were well liked in the community because of their eccentricities and fun-loving nature. A retired wrestler, Frankie had turned his attention to politics the previous year when he suspected the local government was corrupt. He'd called on brother-in-law Max Holt to help him look into it, and they'd found more than they'd bargained for. In the end, Frankie had emerged a hero and won the mayoral election hands-down.