BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3) (4 page)

That evening, I was surprised to get a call from Gary. Perhaps, I thought, absence
does
make the heart grow fonder. He was calling from a hotel outside Chicago. Having picked up the accordion – a “special order,” he explained – then he’d continue on to Indianapolis for another pickup and then on toward home, unless he ran out of steam and had to spend another night along the way.

“So why don’t we plan on a Wednesday night practice? Will that work for you?”

“Fine with me,” I said, wondering how to approach the topic of the bouquet delivery. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Another reason I called,” he continued, “was because I received an email from Tiffany Ashcroft. Her fiancé does have a preference for their first dance at the reception. It’s called ‘Since I Fell for You.’ Not the Buddy Johnson song, in case you’re familiar with that. It’s from the doo-wop era. I’ll forward her email with the link so you can check it out.”

“Cool. Anything else?”

“Nah. I’m kind of beat. I ordered a pizza. I’ll see if I can find a movie on the tube; otherwise, I’ll call it a night and get an early start. Anything new happening with you?”

“Well, now that you ask, I did receive a special delivery at work today.”

“Oh, yeah? Like, a book order? CDs?”

“No, something more organic,” I teased. There was a pause, after which I thought Gary would come clean.

“Well, that’s nice,” he said. “Oh, it sounds like the pizza is here.”

“Yes, it was very nice,” I blurted. “It was an anonymous gift, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Gary said coyly. His voice became strained as he walked about the room. “A fan, perhaps? You should probably get used to that sort of thing, Melody. After all…how did that guy put it? You really know how to squeeze that box, or something like that? Hey, sorry, but I’ve got to go. The pepperoni is calling.”

“Enjoy,” I said, feeling slightly deflated. Why didn’t he just ‘fess up and take credit for the flowers? Maybe the act was so alien to Gary’s nature that he felt he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. After all, if you can’t express to someone how you feel about them, how are you going to own up to something as romantic as sending a bouquet? I guess that’s why he wanted to remain anonymous.

Later, I received the email and checked out Charlie’s song request. It sounded like something from the doo-wop era, with the standard C, A-minor, F and G pattern. The lyrics, not surprisingly, detailed how smitten the singer was with the object of his affection.

Since I fell for you, my whole world is spinning around,

Believe me, ‘cause it’s true, I may as well have hit the ground.

Etcetera.

Had Gary fallen for me? Not like a ton of bricks, all sudden-like, but more of a slow-motion tumble, a Peckinpah spill that had played out over the years we’d known each other? Did he now find himself like a beetle turned over on its back, helplessly smitten, his world spinning around?

For that matter, had I? Had the teenage crush I’d felt for him and kept down all these years, subjugated by logic and low self-esteem, now wriggled free? It was beginning to feel that way. I wasn’t trying to force it to happen, but now that the possibility of our relationship evolving beyond friendship inched toward reality, I found myself very much wanting it to happen.

The problem, of course, is that both Gary and I were apprehensive about compromising that friendship by injecting a romantic element that the other might reject. Someone had to make the first move. Unfortunately, it looked like it might be up to me

Tuesday contained an element of déjà vu. Again, upon my return from lunch, another gift awaited me. This time, a large parcel sat on my desk. A label warned that the contents should remain refrigerated. The return address only showed the name of the company.

“It’s a gift basket!” Margaret exclaimed. I was relieved that she didn’t appear to be having an allergic reaction to the package. Two older, female patrons looked up from their magazines as if they were awaiting the unveiling.

I cut along the cardboard seams with a letter opener and opened the flaps. Lo and behold, as they used to say. It
was
a gift basket, filled with an assortment of chocolate goodies and an adorable little Teddy Bear.

“Isn’t that just the cutest thing?” Margaret gushed. The two women glanced at each other and smiled.

“It sure is, Margaret,” I agreed. A little
too
cute, I thought to myself, but he meant well. A card inside identified the sender only as ‘An Admirer.’ “Would you care to try something here before I pop it in the fridge?”

“Oh, it all looks scrumptious, Melody. Thank you, but no…it’s too personal a gift to share.”

I looked up at the two ladies, beckoning with the basket, but they just smiled and looked down at their magazines. I walked to the break room with my gift basket, wondering how long it would take this tiny spark of interest to fan into a wildfire of gossip capable of engulfing the entire town. I hoped that when Gary returned, he’d step out from the shadows so we could address things face-to-face; otherwise, I had no recourse but to play coy as inquiring minds approached me seeking more titillating tidbits of information.

***

I was almost relieved when Wednesday passed without yet another delivery. I sensed that Margaret was somewhat disappointed that there were no singing telegrams or skywritten declarations of love.

“Did you find out who your secret admirer is, Melody?” she asked when I’d returned from lunch.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “He still hasn’t revealed himself. Have you heard anything from your sources about the charges against Bob Christian?”

“No, and I just spoke with them yesterday,” she said, gathering her things to leave. “As soon as I get any information, you’ll be the first to know.”

That evening, the Gary Van Dyke Quartet (Minus One) convened once again in the Van Dyke basement. Tommy Blaine raised a can of Red Bull to acknowledge my entrance, but Gary didn’t even look up from sorting through a stack of sheet music. Undeterred, I set my accordion down and walked over to him.

“Welcome back, Gary,” I chirped, and gave him a big hug. I felt his body tense. Tommy froze in mid-chug, staring around the can at this public display of affection. Earlier, I’d fantasized about planting a smacker on Gary’s lips, but decided to trust my instincts, leaving that emotional escalation to remain in the realm of fantasy.

Oh, well, nothing ventured….

Getting down to business, we practiced for the next hour, running through a dozen tunes, including the ‘first dance’ number, “Since I Fell for You.” Gary crooned the lyrics in a silky, sincere voice, and Tommy threw some bluesy licks between lines. Tommy nailed an incredible solo mid-way, but when we finished, Gary decided to cut the solo and instead Tommy would just repeat the opening bars.

“The longer they dance, the more awkward it’ll get, so let’s keep it tight,” Gary explained. Tommy took it well, just nodding. He knew he had other opportunities during the set to shine.

All told, we had a repertoire of over fifty songs of all kinds: waltzes, some funkier pop pieces, some swing, and many that fell between ‘a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll.’ We relied on the sheet music for many, something that most of your wedding-frat party variety bands would never do, but then we were a pretty subdued ensemble. We didn’t unison dance while we played, and we didn’t employ any pyrotechnics. We weren’t ‘show biz’ at all. We just played the music well and hoped that the audience felt this was enough.

During a lull, the basement lights flicked off and on, and Mr. Van Dyke – I’m sorry, Zak –walked halfway down the stairs. “I’ve got a pot of tea steeping. Anybody game?” he called out.

Gary and I nodded at each other. “Tea sounds great!” I responded.

“Well, while it’s working its magic, I’ve got something else for you, Melody.” Zak was only visible from the knees down, and as he descended, I saw that he was carrying something. When he turned the corner, he held a gorgeous, green button accordion.

“Melody, I hope that you won’t mind, but I took the liberty of assuming that you might find this little gem as delightful as I do. It’s a chromatic – perfect for the
musette
you and I both love, as well as just about anything else you’d care to play. It’s my gift to you for all your hard work on the Accordion Extravaganza project.”

I was floored! Accordion players are like guitarists in that, even though their chosen instrument is extremely versatile, different instruments offer different characteristics, unique qualities that inspire us with a fresh perspective. That’s why, when they can afford it, some musicians have entire rooms dedicated to their collection of instruments. It’s addictive. And those who can’t afford to stockpile an arsenal of instruments dream of being able to do so.

He handed me the accordion and helped slip the strap around my neck. “Gary drove all the way to Chicago for this beauty. It’s forty-two years old and, like you, is unique. I wish you many years of enjoyment, Melody.”

“Thank you so much, Zak,” I said, tearing up. “It’s beautiful. I’ll always treasure this. And thank you, Gary, for your contribution.” I squeezed the bellows and then expanded it, and was surprised that it played the same note in either direction. Both of my accordions played a different pitch when the bellows was pushed or pulled.

“Yes, it’s unisonic,” Zak observed. “It’ll take time to get used to that, not to mention the button layout, but it’ll be fun learning, right?”

“Oh, sure,” I laughed. It would be challenging, but he was right – the fun would outweigh the initial difficulty.

“Well, that tea should be ready,” Zak said. The look on his face was priceless. He knew that he’d scored the perfect gift for me, and I hoped that he saw a glimmer of the appreciation that I felt. It was beyond words. If I was mistaken about Gary’s feelings toward me, I wondered if maybe the Van Dykes could just adopt me. These sessions in their basement made me feel more at home than just about anywhere else.

***

On a side note, when I brought the Chromatic home and showed Mom how generous Zak had been, she was nearly speechless, which of itself was priceless. She couldn’t help but admire the gleaming beauty of the instrument, but once she’d recovered, she made an attempt to save face.

“So what do you think that cost?” she asked. “I mean, it’s not a
new
instrument, is it?”

“No, Mom, it’s a
vintage
instrument. It’s nearly one-of-a-kind! And I’m not going to even bother trying to find out. It’s a gift!”

“I understand,” she said. “It was very thoughtful of Zak. I was just curious, is all. So how have your rehearsals been going with Gary?”

“Very well. In fact, he called off a third practice. I guess that means we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“I’m sure you’ll sound just terrific. I wish I’d gotten an invitation just so I could hear you. I haven’t been to a wedding in years! Just funerals, these days. I used to love attending weddings and receptions. It’s as if a little bit of the romance and magic rubs off on everyone there. I hope you’re not going to be so caught up in your performance that you end up missing that element.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said. “I have a feeling that there’s not going to be a lot of romance and magic in the air at this one. It’s pretty much a mercenary enterprise.”

Mom looked shocked. “Oh, that’s horrible! Is it her first time?”

“Yes, it is. She struck me as being very…pragmatic.”

“Hmmm. Well, there’s something to be said for security,” Mom said, changing tack while still finding a way to lecture me while doing so. “There are practical aspects to marriage as well as romantic ones.”

“I think I’ll retire now. It’s been a long day.”

“You’re not going to sleep with your new accordion, are you?” Mom asked as I scuttled away. She had good reason to ask:  as a child, I’d slept with Grandma Clementine’s. I guess I’d outgrown that level of attachment to my instruments, yet a part of me didn’t want to let go of my gorgeous, green gift.

When Friday rolled around, the thrill of anticipating another gift had waned, but I wasn’t complaining. How do you top a gift like the chromatic accordion, after all? Besides, my energy was focused on the wedding reception. I always get nervous before a performance, and as the event approached, my palms felt sweaty just thinking about it…in a good way.

There was still no word from Margaret or the media about Bob Christian’s legal fate. Maybe the prosecutor had postponed his decision. When I returned from lunch, Margaret had gone, but Chrissie was manning the front desk. I felt a little apprehensive when I saw her, wondering if Gary might have mentioned me in the context of their cooling relationship. I quickly got over it, though, when she appeared to be her usual upbeat self.

“Hi, Melody. Are you excited about Tiffany’s wedding tomorrow? You and Gary are playing at the reception, right?”

“Yes and yes,” I replied. “Were you invited?”

“I was, and I’ll be attending. She’s a few years older than I am, but we took a few classes together at the community college and used to chat. Did you hear that the guy she’s marrying is older than her dad?” she asked, wide-eyed.

I couldn’t help smiling at that. “Well, some younger women have a thing for older guys,” I said, wondering if she’d take the bait.

“I suppose,” she said, wistfully. “I mean, she
could
love him, and I hope she does, but I don’t think it’s just a coincidence that he’s gotta lotta money.”

“
Touché
,” I replied. Looking down at my desk, I saw a lavender envelope, the kind used to house greeting cards. “What’s this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get out of your chair,” Chrissie said, rising. “A man dropped it off while you were gone. He didn’t leave his name, but he asked what the library hours were and said he’d be back around closing time.” Chrissie must have noticed the blood draining from my face. “I didn’t mess up, did I? I mean, the hours are public information, right?”

“Absolutely,” I responded, as I opened the envelope. The card displayed a cuddly – what else? – Teddy Bear (with a veneer of felt fur that was quite pleasing to the touch) with a sad and slightly stupid expression holding a heart. The caption read, ‘I Can’t BEAR to be without you!’ It was kind of sickening, in a way. Who would be sending me these mawkish gifts? Now I felt a sense of relief that it probably wasn’t Gary. Gary would earn extra points if he
wasn’t
behind all of this.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah,” Chrissie grinned, as if she were saving the best for last. “He said he was your
husband
!”

That was kind of weird. “But I’m not married,” I clarified.

“No,” Chrissie said, her smile becoming wider. “He said he
was
your husband!” She looked directly into my eyes, as if gauging my level of discomfort due to this revelation. I managed a smile.

“Well, that isn’t possible, either. I guess I’ll find out who this jokester is come closing time. Have you had a chance to check the drop box yet?”

Once she left, I plopped down in my chair and allowed my body to go slack. This was outrageous, but then Gavin’s behavior always bordered on the outrageous, so it fit. It had been three years since our marriage had been annulled, with no contact since, which had suited me just fine. Why was he here in Lake Hare, sending me wildly inappropriate gifts and playing some cat-and-mouse game like a goofy, love struck teen?

Thankfully, Chrissie had to leave at 5:00; otherwise, I think she might have hung around to witness my reaction when Gavin showed up. If there weren’t a handful of patrons present, I might have considered closing early. At least, the thought crossed my mind, but if Gavin had found me at the library in Lake Hare, of all places, he could have probably located Mom’s house pretty easily.

After locking up, I waited on the sidewalk at the front entrance. A black SUV pulled up and out stepped Gavin. His hair was shorter and he looked better groomed than was his wont during our time together. As he neared, he flashed that trademarked dazzling smile, but all I felt was a rekindled sense of loathing. The man didn’t have a sincere bone in his body.

“Melody,” he crooned, holding his arms out to accept a hug, which wasn’t going to happen. I stood with my arms folded across my chest.

“Gavin,” I acknowledged icily. “What brings you to these parts?”

“Why, you, of course,” he smiled, reading my body language and stopping a comfortable distance before me. “And a wedding. Business and pleasure, I guess you could say.”

“And what business do we have?” I asked.

“No, you’re the pleasurable part, believe me. I hate weddings, actually, no offense, but I’m pursuing a client – wooing, you might say – so that’s the business part. Charlie Hayes, the groom. I’ve got him in my sights, and managed to finagle an invite to the blessed event. My connection was Ray Heller; do you know him? He’s a very close friend of Tiffany’s, whom I’ve yet to meet. A very close friend.”

“Oh, that must be
Raymond
,” I replied, recalling Tiffany’s syrupy phone conversation. “No, I’ve just heard about him.”

“Nice guy. Anyway, I made an investment in his-and-hers gold clubs for the couple, and I hope that will lead to an outing with Mr. Hayes, where I can make a pitch for my marketing services. It’s a bit of a gamble, but my idea is that on a more relaxed turf, so to speak, Mr. Hayes might be more receptive to my ideas.”

“You always were a calculating bastard,” I smiled. “Speaking of Trojan horses, why the covert campaign of gifts to me? You know…the secret admirer ruse?”

“Well, it’s no secret that I admire you, Melody, especially when I read the Detroit Free Press article about your amateur sleuthing adventures. Yeah, they ran the local rag’s feature, and I was very impressed. When I found out that Hayes’ wedding was going to be held here, it was like….”

“Killing two birds with one stone?” I offered.

“Like kismet,” he said, “or an omen.”

“Gavin, believe me, I am not your good luck charm. There is nothing but bad karma between us. We were married for eight months, and you were gone on your job or with your girlfriends for four of those months. So please don’t try to spin our past together as some sort of magical fairy tale.”

“Oooh,” Gavin exclaimed, as if he’d just been punched in his midsection, though the smile never left his face. “You don’t pull punches, Melody. What can I say? We were both younger and a little immature. I didn’t realize that you’d still felt so much emotion.”

“I felt betrayed, Gavin. I haven’t thought about you at all in years, but now that you’ve shown up here, I resent that you think that I would forget that betrayal and let you charm your way back into my good graces. Not a chance. That would be like being bitten by a rattlesnake. If you don’t learn from the experience, it’ll happen again.”

Finally, the smile disappeared. “Hey, I told you, I was in town and I thought I’d look you up. I didn’t know that you still held a grudge. I’d hoped that I could take you to dinner and we could talk about old times.”

“No,” I said. “I’ve have a rehearsal. I’m playing at the reception tomorrow.” That was only half true, but with a guy like Gavin – a salesman through and through, who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer – it was necessary to lie.

“Oh, the accordion,” he grinned. “Man, that’s one thing I sure don’t miss about you, no offense. You still got that same cat, the one who didn’t like me?”

“Mao? Yes. She’s an excellent judge of character, as it turned out. I’ve got to go.”

“I understand,” Gavin said. “Well, if you change your mind – after the rehearsal – you can find me at the Hartford House, this boring old B and B. I should have waited till tomorrow to come up here.”

“Sorry I couldn’t entertain you,” I sniffed, and started walking.

“Hey, how’s your mother, Melody?” Gavin called out.

I wheeled back around. “What do you care? You’ve never met my mother, and she doesn’t know a thing about you. Nobody does, and that’s the way I want to keep it. Don’t be telling anyone else that we were married. It was annulled, remember? It never existed.”

“Easy, Melody, I was just being polite,” he chuckled. “Go on; don’t be late for your rehearsal. Hey, do you take requests? What if I ask you to play our song, Melody?”

I stopped and looked back. “We didn’t have a song, Gavin. Just do me a favor and stay away from me, okay?”

I didn’t want him following me, so I walked along Main Street until his car passed by, then I took the road to Mom’s. I was livid. He had some nerve! Did he think I was going to show him a good time during his layover? Maybe I should have referred him to Cat, our local escort provider. That was more Gavin’s speed.

As I marched along, a woman walking her dog across the street stopped and stared at me. I realized that I had begun speaking aloud as I grumbled about Gavin’s audacity. Well, to heck with her! Why is she eavesdropping on my conversation with myself anyway?

I entered through the kitchen and saw that the kitchen was clean and empty.

“Melody? Is that you?” Mom called from the living room. “I had a late lunch today, so I didn’t cook anything. Would you like me to whip something up for you?”

“No, thanks, Mom,” I replied. Great. Not that I had any regrets about declining Gavin’s dinner invitation. I opened a cupboard and grabbed a bag of potato chips. That would do the trick. I opened the freezer and saw the half gallon of peanut butter fudge ice cream. Yes! The gods were smiling down on me. I grabbed Mao and entered my room, kicking the door shut.

If I’d had a Do Not Disturb sign, I would have hung it over the doorknob, or better yet, Enter at Your Own Risk! I had some serious snacking to do! Some junk food and some cat affection, and I’d be right with the world.