A Custom Fit Crime (27 page)

Orphie smiled wanly. She opened the book, leafing through the pages as Midori turned back to me.

“Your work is beautiful,” I said, running my hand down the side of a black, red, and cream color-blocked dress, and I chastised myself for even suspecting Midori could be up to anything illicit. She was a great designer, not a murderer. The design was simple, as most of Midori’s things were, but it had a clean, classic cut that would compliment most figures. It reminded me of a few of Beaulieu’s recent pieces, and just like that, my doubt about Midori resurfaced.

“Thank you.” She unzipped the bag, showing me what she’d been working on for the last two days, her personal distraction from the murder investigation.

Slowly, the dress was revealed and I was speechless. It could have been a wedding gown itself, it was so meticulously crafted. The strapless bodice was entirely ruched, the skirt, which would hang to the floor, flared at the base and spread into a small gathered train in back, and just at the hipline, a good several inches below the waist, she’d put in what looked like a Western belt with two offset rhinestone ornaments that were reminiscent of buckles, but were situated near the hipbones rather than in the center. They added a whimsical flair to the design.

“Wow,” Orphie said, looking up from the lookbook. “That is beautiful! And perfect for you, Harlow.”

Midori smiled. “I think so.”

It was stunning. But was it me? I didn’t do strapless, and while I knew what to do to work with a woman’s body, I didn’t often do extremely fitted things for myself.

“It’s very sexy,” I said, letting my fingers dance over the fabric.

Midori angled her head, her sleek black hair falling over one eye as she studied the dress. “Just sexy enough.”

“Agree,” Orphie said, holding her arm up as if she were casting a vote.

Midori pulled the short train from the garment bag. “I am quite good with fitting. I have an eye for size and shape, but please try it on in case I need to make some last-second adjustments.”

Last second. Oh boy. I checked the clock. The wedding was in fifty minutes and I hadn’t even showered. “Okay,” I said, “but I’ll just be a minute.” I raced upstairs and jumped in the shower. The phone rang just after I’d stepped under the hot water, but whoever it was would have to wait. I finished my shower in record time and then dried my hair, piling it up in an artfully messy bun. Maybe the dress would work. It
was
gorgeous.

I applied a touch of makeup, threw on a lightweight robe, and hightailed it back downstairs. Will was probably getting ready to go pick up Mama. Before too long, the wedding guests would be arriving at the church. Time was running out.

As I entered the workroom, Midori came right toward me. “Try on your dress. It’s time for the wedding, yes?”

It was a strange feeling to slip behind the privacy screen to try something on. In truth, I’d never done it before, preferring to stay on the other side of the room, designing things for other people. I hung my robe on one of the hooks I’d provided for my customers and stepped into the dress, holding it up at the bodice with one arm as I emerged to have Midori zip up the back. “I told you, I have an eye for size and shape,” she said. “It is perfect.”

I stepped into the cream-colored pumps I’d brought down with me and moved to the mirror. The moment I saw my reflection, I caught my breath. True, the dress was nothing I’d ever have made for myself, and yet, just like the designs I created for other people, it was perfect on me. The bodice hugged my body, the skirt felt like air against the curves of my hips, the fabric flaring at the knees, giving me an hourglass shape.

“Lord almighty, you’re a vision.” Nana had come in through the kitchen’s Dutch door and now gazed at me as if I were a princess. “It’s your mama’s weddin’, but, darlin’, you might could steal the show. At least to one man,” she added, throwing in a wink.

“One man named Will Flores,” Orphie said.

“You’re both incorrigible,” I said to them, but inside, I smiled. I wouldn’t mind having Will think I’d stolen the show. His proclamation of love still stuck with me. Being on the other side of things was a strange sensation, and I suddenly knew what my customers felt as they tried on my creations. Renewed. Energized. Like a better version of themselves.

In typical Coleta Cassidy fashion, Nana changed the subject. “Harlow, your granddaddy’s waitin’. It’s time to go.”

Orphie slowly rose from the settee. She was gussied up and ready for the wedding, but still pale and drawn. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I asked her.

“No way am I missing Will’s face when he sees you,” she said, smiling.

We’d also invited Midori, Jeanette, the four models, Lindy, and Quinton. We couldn’t call ourselves Southerners if we didn’t extend our hospitality to our guests, murder suspects or not. I knew Midori was coming, but the others hadn’t RSVP’d, so I had no idea if they’d make it to the chapel and the reception, just to the reception, or not at all.

Midori had changed into a sheath dress made from another printed chirimen crepe, this one with a bright pink and teal background, lots of flowers, and whimsy that once again reminded me of an old-fashioned kimono. It was an odd combination of fabric and design, almost discordant, and yet it worked.

We hurried out to my granddaddy’s SUV sitting in front of the house and raced to the chapel, barely getting there on time. By the time we arrived, most of the guests were there, seated in the pews, voices low and anxious as they waited. A local fiddle player played up-tempo bluegrass—not your typical wedding music, but what Mama had wanted.

Will was there, standing toward the front of the sanctuary near the altar, hands in his pockets, black slacks, a casual cotton button-down shirt and tie giving him a rugged dapper look. But none of that could hide the fact that he seemed stiff and uncomfortable.

It only took a second to realize why . . . and to remember the missed phone call. Hoss wasn’t standing up there with him. And Mama wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

My heart sank. We’d both failed. There wasn’t going to be a wedding.

“I can’t believe she didn’t show up,” I whispered to Nana and Granddaddy after I’d powwowed with Will. He stayed in the front of the church, a stoic sentry that we hoped would keep the speculation about the missing groom at bay. “What are we supposed to tell folks?”

My granddaddy Dalton rocked back on his heels, his arms folded over his chest. His lips were drawn into a thin line. “The truth.”

But the truth was, none of us knew where she was. I peeked my head around the corner and smiled wanly at Will, lifting my hand in a subtle wave from the back of the church. It didn’t do anything to calm my nerves, and I’m sure it didn’t do anything to simmer down whatever uncertainty was circling inside Will.

We gave it another ten minutes, but Mama still didn’t show. I called her house. No answer. All of her friends were sitting right here in the pews, so I was at a loss. Where could she be?

Nana and Granddaddy had their heads together, whispering, but I could only see the expression on Will’s face, his jaw tight under his goatee, as he finally left his post and came into the vestibule at the back of the church. He stopped when he saw me, as if it were the first time. Looked me up and down, his eyes smoldering. And then he was next to me, taking my hand in his and drawing me close. “You’re still gorgeous, Cassidy,” he said, his voice low in my ear.

Everything around us faded away and for a few seconds I forgot Mama, the wedding that wasn’t happening, and all the people in the church wondering what was going on. I forgot about Beaulieu, Orphie, Midori, and the fact that there was a murderer walking among us.

For a few seconds I couldn’t think at all. My heart thundered in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to have Will’s arms around me so I could forget everything except that he loved me.

But Nana’s and Granddaddy’s whispers brought me back to reality. Will sensed it, too. He let me go and stepped back, swallowing the desire I was sure was coursing through him.

“You checked the greenhouse?” Nana asked him for the third time.

“The greenhouse, the neighbors, the whole house. Her car was there, but she wasn’t.”

Panic started to set in. Where was she? What had happened to Beaulieu and to Orphie zoomed to the front of my mind. What if something had happened to her?

But of course that wasn’t logical. Orphie and Beaulieu were at least peripherally connected through Maximilian’s book. Mama had nothing to do with that, so she wasn’t in any danger. She was just running from her own fear of committing to Hoss. I was her excuse.

Gavin appeared in the vestibule, Orphie on his arm, looking pale but managing to keep up a brave face. “So your mama got cold feet, eh?” he said.

“Your dad, too,” I shot back.

“He was just smart enough to stay away so he wouldn’t be humiliated by your mother,” he said.

Will’s hand tightened, right along with his jaw. “He’s the one that started this by thinking Harlow could be a killer.”

Orphie cleared her throat, sounding weak, but it was enough to stop us from bickering.

“You’ve called him?”

“I have,” Gavin said. “He’s not picking up.”

Granddaddy, Nana, and I looked at each other, communicating silently between us. “Mama’s not answering. Hoss isn’t picking up. They might could be—”

“Together,” they said in unison.

Gavin lifted his chin indignantly. “No, I don’t believe that. The sheriff isn’t one to go kowtowing to some woman who’s stood him up.”

“She didn’t stand him up,” I said, hands on my hips. “They just had a misunderstanding.”

“They’re practically hitched, even if they aren’t churched,” Granddaddy said. “They love each other. I have every confidence they’ll work out their differences.”

Granddaddy straightened his bolo tie, held his chin up, and marched down the aisle. “Folks,” he said, holding up his hand when he reached the front of the church. “Y’all know Tessa. She does things her own way, and her own way today means she’s decided not to get hitched. All y’all are welcome to come on back to Seven Gables. Nothing says we can’t have some good vittles and good company, even without the bride and groom.”

The fiddle playing stopped and a low buzz went up around the sanctuary as the guests processed Granddaddy’s statement and began filing out.

“We’ll be along shortly,” Gavin said. “We have a stop to make on the way.”

I raised my eyebrows at them both.

“The book,” Orphie said. “We’re going to mail it back. Gavin’s been holding it for safekeeping.”

Together. Something was in the air. I couldn’t say if it was love, but whatever was between Orphie and Gavin had them joined at the hip and was bringing out the nurturing side of the deputy.

I was glad for it if it made Orphie happy and set her back on the right path. Returning Maximilian’s book was a step in the right direction.

They headed out and I gathered up the skirt of my gown in my hand, hurrying toward the door. “We have to hurry and get there before everyone else. Call Raylene and Hattie, please,” I said to Will. I hadn’t seen them at the church yet, so maybe we’d be able to intercept them before they left Seven Gables so they could turn right back around and get ready for an early reception.

I stopped short at the sidewalk. “I came with my grandparents,” I said to Will.

“I’ll drive.” He grabbed my hand, but instead of heading toward his truck, he pulled me close, planting a kiss on my mouth. “Damn. What a waste of a good church,” he said, a crooked half grin on his lips. “Some other time, Cassidy.”

I gulped down the surprise bubbling inside me, but before I could respond—or even wonder at yet another reference to him and me in wedded bliss, he pulled me into motion, and off we went to host a reception for a wedding that hadn’t happened.

Will sped up to Seven Gables, pulling into the driveway. He threw it into park, and I jumped out, running as quickly as I could in my high heels. Up the drive, through the back gate, up the back porch steps, and in through the door into the kitchen.

“Raylene! Hattie!” I hollered through the house. I grabbed an apron and picked up the first tray. It would take who knew how many trips to haul them to the tents. Will grabbed two trays, and we backed out of the door, set the food on one of the tables under the tents, then raced back inside.

I was just bending over to pull one of the trays laden with fried chicken from the oven when I heard a sound from the front room. The creaks and noises were different than those at Buttons & Bows. Every old house seemed to have its own personality and quirks. Mine also had a ghost.

I closed the oven door as Will came back in. At the same moment, a woman’s voice wafted into the kitchen, growing louder as its owner came closer. I whipped around, recognizing the voice instantly. “Mama!”

She appeared in the kitchen and I forgot all about the chicken and the wedding guests about to descend on the inn. “Tessa Cassidy,” I demanded, “where the devil have you been?”

Mama didn’t look distraught. Nor did she look as though she’d just missed her own wedding. In fact, she was wearing the dress I’d made for her, blinged-out boots, white cowboy hat with a tuft of tulle she must have affixed herself, and a good amount of makeup for her, which is to say she had on a dash of mascara and her lips were a shimmery coral.

Her cheeks matched her mouth, and from her Cheshire Cat grin, she looked as if she’d been up to no good and was mighty proud of it.

“Darlin’, don’t be sore.”

I jammed my hands on my hips, perfectly aware of how ridiculous I looked in my designer gown, heels, and colorful, ruffled apron. But I didn’t care. Mama had bailed on her nuptials, and she had some explaining to do.

“Don’t be sore? Mama, you left us at the church without a word. We were worried sick.” I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper for emphasis. “There’s a murderer around here, remember? I thought . . .” I gulped down the fear that I’d kept tightly bottled up inside me. “I thought something had happened to you.” I waved my arm up and down, gesturing to her dress. “And why in tarnation are you wearing that?”