Janet Evanovich - Hero at Large

“Hmmmph,” Edna grunted. “Of course we need Ken. How do you expect to plan a wedding without the groom?”

Chris stopped short. “There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

Edna narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you think. I’m no quitter. Ken’s the perfect husband for you.”

“Yeah,” Ken mumbled. “No one else is rich enough to afford the medical insurance.”

Chris whirled around and glared at him, nose to nose. “What a horrid thing to say. I’ve never said a word about your poisonous food, but you bring broken bones into the conversation every chance you get.”

He looked genuinely injured. “What do you mean…poisonous food?”

“You tried to make me eat a potholder!”

Edna shook her head. “This isn’t going too good,” she told Margaret Knight.

“Are you sure they used to like each other?”

“Maybe we should just plan the wedding without them,” Edna mused.

Ken and Chris exchanged looks of exasperated disbelief. “The heating system can wait,” Ken decided. “Let’s just get them out of here.”

Chris sat with her fingers curled around a cup of cold coffee. The conversation buzzing around her was grimly fascinating. So fascinating that for the second time that morning she forgot to drink her coffee. Edna and Margaret were planning a wedding.

“It should be a Christmas wedding,” Edna pronounced. “Christmas weddings are nice.”

Margaret agreed. “I had a spring wedding, but if I had it to do again it would definitely be a Christmas wedding. I think it’s so nice when you can decorate with holly and red bows.”

Chris looked at the man sitting silently beside her. He, too, was absorbed in the older women’s conversation. He relaxed against the padded cushion of the booth, his long legs reaching almost to the side occupied by Edna and his mother. One hand held his empty coffee cup, the other unconsciously traced circular patterns across Chris’s shoulder and along her neck. A bemused expression hovered at his mouth and lurked in his eyes.

“I think spice cake is good for a December wedding,” Margaret said. “Of course it should have white icing and be decorated like any other wedding cake, but if the inside were spice, it would be nice.”

Chris wriggled to get Ken’s attention. “How can you let them go on like this?” she whispered. “How can you just sit there smiling?”

“They’re enjoying themselves. Anyway, I don’t know how to stop them.”

“Now I know why you got along so well with Aunt Edna.”

Ken grinned. “She’s just like my mom.”

Chris looked at Ken sidewise. “I’m not going to marry you.”

“Of course not.” The circles at her neck grew lazier, more provocative.

He has great thumbs, Chris thought. It’s the thumbs that make the difference between a good massage and a great massage. Little prickles of pleasure warmed her skin.

He leaned against her, snuggling her against his chest and his shoulder. “They don’t even know we’re here.”

“Mmmmm,” she agreed, her curly lashes drooping over slightly glazed eyes.

“You’ve got a big family, Margaret,” Edna worried. “We wouldn’t want to leave anyone out, but I don’t know if I can fit such a bunch of people into the town house. I suppose we could hire out a restaurant room.”

The two women looked depressed at the thought. “Those restaurant weddings always seem so cold,” Margaret finally said.

Edna looked hopeful. “How about your house? Is your house in Pennsylvania big enough to hold everyone?”

“I don’t know. It’s a nice house, but it’s not real big. It’s pretty much busting at the seams during holidays.”

Chris was startled out of her trance by Ken’s deep voice joining the conversation. “How about Darby Hills?”

Chris sat up straight and squeaked, “Are you crazy?”

Ken chuckled and tweaked an orange curl.

“What’s Darby Hills?” Edna asked.

Margaret beamed. “It’s this huge awful house he bought. It sits on this little hill like a fat lady squatting on an orange.”

Edna shivered. “It don’t sound like a place for a wedding.”

“It’s not that bad,” Chris offered. “The land around it is really beautiful. There are cows and big oak trees and lots of azaleas…” She stopped short and flushed red. She closed her eyes tight and sank into her seat, unable to believe she’d just risen to the defense of Darby Hills. She opened one eye and glared at Ken, daring him to even crack a smile.

Ken’s eyes were wide with surprise. Edna and Margaret stared at her openmouthed. Chris grabbed her cup of cold coffee and drained it.

“I’m not going to touch this one,” Ken assured Chris. “I don’t mind a little danger in my life every now and then, but I’m not suicidal.”

Chris looked at her watch. “I should be getting back to the rink.”

Ken reached across the table and took his mother’s hand. “What are your plans, Mom? How long will you be down here?”

“I’m just here for the day. I drove down with your sister.”

“Erin? Where is she?”

Margaret elbowed Edna, and the two women giggled.

“She was chicken,” Edna answered with a mischievous grin. “She wouldn’t come with us.”

Ken’s mother smoothed her napkin on the table in front of her. “Erin decided to stay at Edna’s town house while we visited with you and Chris, and then this afternoon we’re going into Washington together. We’re going to be tourists.”

The sadness returned to Ken’s eyes. “I’d like to take you out to dinner, but I have to get ready to go to Chicago.”

“I understand. You take care of yourself. You look so tired.”

He did look tired, Chris thought. There were times when the animation returned to his face and his smile reached his eyes, but there were also dark circles and lines of tension that testified to sleepless nights.

He took out a billfold and removed a credit card. “You take this and have a nice afternoon. Take Erin out to lunch. Someplace fancy.” He stood and pulled Chris out of the booth. “We’re only a short distance from the rink. I’ll walk back with Chris. You can take your time over another cup of coffee here and then drive Edna home in the Mercedes.”

Edna turned to Margaret, explaining ruefully, “I don’t drive. It’s the one thing I don’t do. Tried it from time to time but couldn’t get the hang of it.”

Chris leaned toward Ken and told him in an aside, “Leadfoot smashed up every car she ever tried to drive. One time in Denver she put Uncle Ed’s station wagon into reverse and took out the garage door.”

“I heard that!” Edna snapped. “That wasn’t my fault. It was that dang electronic door opener that didn’t work right. Besides, my foot slipped. I didn’t mean to go just then.”

Ken trundled Chris into her ski jacket and pushed her toward the door. “Don’t you know that discretion is the better part of valor? Edna will feed you lima bean soup tonight for that crack about her driving.”

“I hate lima bean soup.”

“I know,” he said softly.

Chris felt a lump form in her throat at the tender intimacy of his response. They stopped and looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Chris saw questions there-questions that had no answers. And regret. She knew her eyes reflected the same. Tears prickled deep inside her. She felt them spill over her lower lashes and slide down her cheeks.

Ken stared silently at the tears for a moment. He pressed his lips together and brushed his thumb gently across her cheeks. “I wish I could make you happy,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He gathered her to his chest and held her close, bowing his head into her hair and closing his eyes against its softness. “I know you’re scared and angry, and I obviously did a lot of things wrong. But now I don’t know how to make them right.” He pressed a lingering kiss against her ear.