Powdered Murder (14 page)

I looked at myself in the mirror, remembering what I used to say to my reflection when I was thirty pounds heavier. I usually gave myself some sort of speech about how beauty came from within. It wasn't easy to seem confident when I was disappointed that I wasn't as stick thin as Joy or as toned as Patrick's latest girlfriend. But tonight was different. I'd made the decision to change, and I did. The dress looked amazing. But the moment Patrick stepped back into my life I'd slowly been realizing that while I had definitely changed on the outside, I hadn't completely changed on the inside. I still had insecurities, even as an accomplished, fit, thirty-something. Patrick made me nervous and less confident. I cared way too much about what he thought of me.

I fixed my hair so that long, dark waves fell past my shoulders. I usually kept my hair tied up, in a braid, or under a beanie or baseball cap. My eyes darted out the window at the small town of Bison Creek. It was lit up by street lamps and it looked oddly serene from up here. I hadn't spotted John or the black BMW all afternoon. After questioning Ada and gulping down my tea, I'd come straight back to the resort and found it to be mostly empty except for the employees who were working the wedding.

I nodded at my reflection and decided it was time to make my entrance downstairs. I was anxious about a lot of things as I calmly walked down the staircase and into the staff hallway. I took my time, contemplating what to say to Patrick other than congratulations on your marriage. Maybe that was all I should say?

I left the staff hall and my heart pounded as I neared the event room that was decorated in all white for the special occasion. The guest list was small consisting of the wedding party and Patrick's parents, but Joy had dreamed big. Outside, the patio and chair lift was illuminated with lights so that a brilliant glow brightened up the tall, arched windows. Like many rooms in the hotel, there was a brick fireplace outlined with fresh greenery that made the room smell like Christmas trees. All the trim was a sophisticated looking dark wood and it contrasted neatly with the tan walls. The ceiling extended up, drawing my eye to a deer antler chandelier – an intricate piece of art work.

A long dinner table was set up in the center of the room and it was much longer than I had expected. There were bowl-like glass vases forming a line in the center of the table. Each bowl was filled with a bundle of peach roses in full bloom. Every display was carefully laced with lights so the bowl lit up as well. It was an impressive technique I had never seen done before.

The china dinner plates were white, but they were sitting under wooden mats that matched the name tag holder at each seat. The cloth napkins were gold, matching the table runner. The corners of the room had been filled with furniture and more greenery so that the place almost made you feel like you were in a magical winter garden of sorts without the cold or the snow. There were brown leather sofas and tall antique armchairs placed in all four corners. They reminded me of a mini study where Dad would retreat for some peace and quiet before bed. I surveyed the room again and again, in awe over every detail that had been thought out. Joy was a gifted event planner.

The first person I noticed was Lila. She was sipping a glass of red wine wearing a lacy black dress that started up at her collar bone and extended down to her mid-thigh. Her hair was curled and voluminous. Compared to her slender figure, fragile arms, and sunken face, she looked like she was wearing a wig that was two sizes too big. She spotted me and examined my outfit as she walked over, her heels clanging on the wood floor.

"Essie," she said casually, looking me up and down. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Excuse me?"

"That dress is very daring." She half smiled and kept her wine glass close to her chest. "If I wore something that revealing, everyone would think I was out for attention."

"Well." I swallowed her dirty compliment. "I had it in my closet so…" I cleared my throat and looked at her wine. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she answered. "Much better actually. Your sister sent a masseuse to my suite. A beastly man who calls himself Ivan. He fixed me right up." She took a relaxing breath and glanced around the room as servers began bringing out silver buckets of chilled spirits. "Turns out my back was full of knots."

"Imagine that," I muttered.

I spotted Bebe looking graciously at a server. She smiled as he handed her a glass. I glared in her direction, desperately hoping she would see us and immediately come over. Bebe studied the room first before she finally singled us out.

"Gold," Lila quietly complained. "Of course Bebe would wear something angelic like that. With her blonde hair and light complexion she looks like a ray of sunshine and I look like…" Lila touched her lacy, black dress. "An undertaker."

"Don't be stupid," I replied. "That dress makes you look dignified." I couldn’t find the right words to say other than the dress made her look conservative compared to the rest of her wardrobe.

"True," she agreed. If this was Lila's way of fishing for compliments than it was working. She was awfully good at it. "But is it
too
dignified. I don't want to come off as too snotty when I meet Patrick's parents."

"You haven't met the Jayes?"

"Not officially," she answered. "A web chat with Patrick here and there, and they send cards."

"But you haven't spoken with them in person?"

Bebe joined the two of us with a giant smile on her face. I noticed that even in formal attire, she was still wearing the white wristband she sometimes snapped against her wrist. She'd attempted to hide it with matching gold bangles.

"This place looks amazing, y'all." Bebe held up her glass before taking a sip.

"Excuse me, girls." Lila left without even acknowledging Bebe. Bebe shook her head but kept the smile on her face.

"She seems calmer," Bebe commented.

"Really?" I folded my arms. "I don’t see much of a difference other than she's keeping most of her comments to herself at the moment."

"Oh, Essie," Bebe teased. "What would I do without you?"

"Where do you think she's going?" Lila left the room and walked quickly down the hallway.

"She's going to change her dress, honey." Bebe's eyes widened when she studied my ensemble. "Have you seen yourself? You look like the cover of
Maxim
."

"I do not," I argued, feeling my face go warm.

"You do and she's jealous." Bebe lowered her voice when Patrick entered the room escorting his parents.

When the Jayes first moved to Bison Creek, Joy and I used to think of Mr. and Mrs. Jaye as a real life cowboy and cowgirl. It was the way they talked, the way they invited all their neighbors over to sample homemade sweet tea, and the cowboy boots Mr. Jaye wore in place of snow boots. They were a town spectacle back then, but over the years they'd adapted to mountain living as if they had been born here. The only thing that didn't fade away was their southern accents.

Patrick's mom, Anne, was carrying a plate of one of her specialties. She called them Mississippi mud bites, and they were chocolate dessert bars that tasted a lot like a mix between fudge and brownies. Mrs. Jaye looked around the room and clutched her plate tighter as if a little embarrassed that she had brought a homemade treat to such a formal affair. Patrick's mom was petite and her clothes hung loosely from her body like curtains of fabric. She wasn't always so skinny. Her major weight loss was a recent thing.

Patrick's father kept his arm around her. He was taller and his hair was the same shade of dark blonde as Patrick's. He was a simple man, and he spoke with an especially thick, southern accent. Being a former lawyer, he was dressed a little more appropriate for the dinner. But Mr. Jaye was impossible to read.

He normally looks at me like I'm hiding something. It makes me want to spill all my secrets even though I'm not eight years old anymore. But he looks at everyone that way. Everyone except his wife, and his little boy. In his eyes, the world is guilty until proven innocent.

"Essie," Patrick gasped. His tie matched the color of his hazel eyes. "You look great."

"Thanks."

Bebe looked from me to Patrick and bit the corner of her lip.

"You look very handsome, Patrick," Bebe complimented him.

"Thank you." He took a step back and let his parents move forward. "I would like to introduce you to my parents, Anne and Buford."

"Hello," Mr. Jaye replied.

"Oh, Gwenessa," Anne said quietly. "What a beautiful dress."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jaye." I looked at her homemade plate of sweets. She uncomfortably tried to cover most of it with her arm. "Are those what I think they are?"

"Oh I … uh…" Anne blushed, glimpsing back at the dinner table.

"I haven't had one of those in a long time," I went on. "May I?"

"Yes, of course." Patrick's mom gratefully handed me the platter. I folded back the plastic wrap and picked up a square. On any other day I wouldn't eat something this rich and sugary because then I would have to eat another, and another, and another after that. Anne's dessert was the exception to the rule, along with my homemade granola bars that I make once in a while. Her eyes lit up as I took a bite right then and there and raved about how good they were.

"Oh my," Bebe commented. "My grandmama used to make something like that." She copied me and took a bite of one too. Anne's flustered cheeks slowly began to return to their regular shade. "Mrs. Jaye,
you
should be fixin' our meal tonight."

"Oh, that's very kind of you." Mrs. Jaye nodded.

"I hope you don’t mind if we hoard a few," I added.

"Please do." She nodded and her husband carefully took her arm and led her to the dinner table to find her seat. I took another bite of Anne's delectable dessert and savored the sweetness running down my throat.

"Thanks." Patrick grinned. "I tried to explain to her that this was a formal thing, but you know how my mom is. She said she had to bring something. Southern hospitality."

"You're a lucky man," Bebe said, nudging his shoulder. "My mama doesn't cook at all anymore."

Patrick raised his eyebrows and glanced at the door. Two more guests appeared. I stared at their faces, a little confused before placing a hand on my chest. Patrick watched me with a worried look on his face.

I wasn't worried anymore about losing my cool and binge eating every sweet thing in sight anymore, because my appetite had been shot.

"Is it okay that I invited them?" he asked. "It was my mom's idea actually. The second she heard you were in the wedding party she called your mom."

"It's fine," I answered, watching my parents approach us.

I don't have anything against my parents, but ever since I came home from college my relationship with them changed. I became less like their child and more like a good family friend. That's around the same time I started searching for my birth mother. A journey that was cut short when the lady at the adoption agency told me my records were lost years ago in a fire. If I'd started my search earlier, I might have had a chance at finding her. Now I'll never know.

Both my parents have dark hair and dark eyes like me, but they are tall and statuesque like Joy. Sometimes I literally feel like they are towering over me. My mom has the same facial features as my little sister, but her demeanor is calmer like mine. Dad's the one who is quick to get angry. He has a very short temper. I guess that's why he seems more understanding of some of Joy's fits. He knows what it feels like to become so frustrated that you feel like you're on the brink of exploding.

We live in the same town, but I usually only see them about once every other week. Their work takes them both out of town a lot. They own several properties in neighboring counties, including a campground in the next town over.

My mom stared at my dress, but she didn't say anything. I knew what she was thinking. She probably thought that showing off my figure was my own last attempt at getting Patrick's attention, but that wasn't the case. Unfortunately, my childhood crush wasn't something I was able to hide from them.

"Hi, honey." My mom was dressed in her best church clothes. "You never mentioned that you were in the wedding party."

"Didn't have time, I guess."

"Where's your sister," my dad asked. "If her events usually look like this one, they'd better give her that promotion." Dad didn't kid much. Whenever he made a comment, sarcastic or not, there was truth to it.

"Haven't seen her," I admitted.

"Can you believe that Mr. Kentworth?" Dad muttered. "Making Joy work all those extra hours and he is
still
considering other applicants. Incompetent little—"

"Nathan," my mom snapped. "Keep your comments to yourself for the next couple of hours. You never know who is listening."

"Fine," he grunted.

"We are going to go find our seat, honey." My mom smiled at Bebe and led my dad towards the alcohol.

"It is interesting meeting other people's parents," Bebe said. "You always think that yours are the only strange ones."

"Until you meet someone else's," I finished.

"Exactly."

"I'm going to find our seats." Bebe walked to the table with poise and elegance. She read each name card and stopped when she found hers. I surveyed the room again, but there was no sign of Joy. I grabbed Eli's coat as he rushed past me with more drinks. For once, he was doing the actual job he was hired to do.

"Eli," I muttered. "Where's Joy?"

"Haven't seen her," he responded. He looked towards the door leading to the kitchen. "But I overheard one of the other assistants telling Mr. Kentworth she'd called Joy a few times, but she still hasn't responded."

"What?" I thought back to when I last saw her. She was yelling at Wade and I made the decision to leave rather than get involved. That might have been a poor decision on my part. "She must be having car trouble." I glanced at Eli and he shrugged.

"Don't look at me.
I'm
not her sister."

He pulled himself away from my grasp and resumed his serving duties. My stomach started churning as my mind ran through a few scenarios. One ended with Joy waltzing through the doors in front of me with a smile on her face. One ended with her being sister-napped by Donna's killer. And one ended with me getting a call from the fire department saying that my apartment had been burned to a heap of nothing. I glanced at the time on my phone.