Something Borrowed, Something Bleu (19 page)

“My mother’s planned the
menu, and she’s blocked out all the cabins for the whole week, so there’ll be plenty of room for people to stay. Of course, you’ll have final say on the food, but I can’t imagine you won’t love it.” Barr had finally called from Wyoming.
“That’s great,” I said, my voice weak. “Tomorrow I’m going shopping for a dress with my mother.”
“Anything you pick out will look beautiful on you. Remember that it’ll be November, though. Of course, we’ll be inside, so you don’t need to actually dress for the weather.” It was the closest Barr had ever come to babbling.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I sat cross-legged on the bed with Kitty Wampus on my lap. He stretched and purred. I’d finally given in after he refused to stop sleeping on my pillow, even after I’d covered it with a cloth soaked with peppermint oil. Felines usually hate peppermint, but not this one. I had to give him credit for persistence.
“At least we’ve decided on rings,” he said. “We can cross that off the list.”
I wasn’t much on diamonds, so we’d commissioned a jeweler in Cadyville to make us one-of-a-kind platinum rings with Montana sapphires in them.
“Cross them right off,” I repeated, amazed.
“Say, I’ve asked Randall to be my best man,” Barr said.
Uh oh. Randall was Barr’s brother. Who was currently dating Barr’s ex-wife.
“Does that mean Hannah needs to be in the wedding party?” I hated even asking the question out loud.
“Oh, God no. I’ve already explained that would be too weird for you, and she completely understands. She’s offered to tend bar at the reception, though.”
Too weird for
me
. Great. Tend bar. Excellent. She’d just better not think she could tend Barr, if she knew what was good for her.
“Um, speaking of the reception, just how many people do you think we should invite? Anna Belle is getting all het up about the guest list and sending out invitations.”
“I thought about that as I drove. I’ve got at least fifteen people I’d like to come, if they can. How about you?”
I sighed, low so he couldn’t hear it over the phone. Surely it was a good sign that I was more excited about being married than the actual wedding, right? I mean, my vision of the wedding had been down-to-earth and very simple. But if this was going to make everybody happy, I’d be happy, too.
“I’d invite a few people from Cadyville, but I doubt most of them would come out to Wyoming in November for a wedding.”
Silence greeted my words, and I realized how I must have sounded. “They just won’t know what they’re missing. And I’ll be sure to talk Tootie into it. She’s the most important one besides Meghan and Erin.” Petunia Hanover was Erin’s great grandmother, and a close friend.
“I’ll pay for her and Felix, both. Make sure you tell her that.” Felix was Tootie’s ninety-something-year-old boyfriend.
I laughed. “Okay. Enough with the wedding details. I’ve had a full, rich day since you left. Listen to this.” And I proceeded to tell him about the various interactions with the Dunner family.
When I was done, he whistled. “That Ogden is a conundrum, isn’t he? You feel okay about his son now? Or are you still worried?”
“Well, father-son talk or not, we’re locking the house up tight tonight, and I’ll be sleeping lightly.”
And we did, battening down the Watson hatches from attic to basement.

_____

Since I’d be trying on fancy dresses, I stuck to a bowl of berries for breakfast on Saturday morning. Our appointment at the bridal shop was for ten o’clock.
“What kind of a place is this that you have to make an appointment?”
My mother sniffed. “Exclusive, that’s what kind. Ginger carries the most unique dresses. You’ll love them.”
“Hmmph.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! It’s your wedding.”
“Sorry.”
I liked to play dress up as much as any female; it was Anna Belle’s machinations that bothered me. It was silly, of course. Would Erin be the same way with Meghan, caught in that struggle to break away and be her own adult? I hoped not. Silently, I vowed to stop resisting and count myself lucky to have a mother who actually enjoyed event planning. Running my own business was my forte, but organizing special occasions was not. Left to me, we’d end up with a pile of Twinkies bought at the last minute instead of a real wedding cake.
Mmm … cake.
“How about carrot cake?” I asked.
“You’re hungry?”
“No. For the wedding cake.”
Anna Belle’s face lit up. “Of course. That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll call Cassie and—” She looked at her watch. “No, it’ll have to wait until we get back. We’d better get going.”
In the car, I related some of my conversation with Barr the evening before, including his excitement regarding the reception menu his mother had in mind.
“Well, he ought to be excited. She wants to serve filet mignon,” Anna Belle said.
“Yum. With garlic mashed sweet potatoes, too. Starting with roasted red pepper bisque. Oh, and the appetizers! Okay, I’m officially into this whole wedding thing.”
She didn’t clap her hands, but then again, she was driving.
The little bridal shop was in a converted house on Mulberry Street. Small and quaint on the outside, it was elegant but friendly inside. Ginger met us at the door and had several dresses ready for me to look at. A couple of them were white, fluffy affairs, but the one I immediately fell in love with had a fitted lace bodice and low neckline. The long sleeves reflected the flowing skirt sans train, and it was a dark purple-brown.
“This color is crazy for a wedding dress, but it’s so beautiful.” I fingered the layered skirt.
Anna Belle frowned. “Don’t you think it’s a bit dark?”
“Aubergine is very chic,” Ginger said. “It’s wonderful with your skin, and makes your green eyes positively glow. Try it on.”
I did, and loved it even more.
“Well, it does look quite nice on you,” my mother said, pursing her lips. “And you are getting married late in the year.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. “No, wait. How much is it?”
Ginger cited the amount so casually it took a moment to register. When it did, the blood drained out of my face.
“Oh. Well. I, uh …”
“We’ll take it.” Anna Belle shook her head and consulted the ceiling. “Most women would take hours to choose the right dress, but trust you to pick the first one you try on.”
I bristled.
But her smile was good natured. “Very efficient of you.” She tugged at the dress fabric. “It could use a small tuck in the waist and a bit of letting out around the bust.”
“Not a problem,” Ginger assured us and opened the armoire in the corner which held her measuring tape and pins.
“Anna Belle,” I whispered. “It costs too much.” Actually, Barr could afford it, but I hated to ask him to dip into the money he’d inherited from his uncle earlier that year, especially for a dress I’d only wear once. And I sure couldn’t afford that extravagantly beautiful garment on my own.
“This is my present to you.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’”
“I can’t let you do that.”
She looked stricken. “Please? It can be your something new.”
Desire warred with guilt, but when she put it like that, how could I say no?

_____

The brief coolness of the early morning had vanished, leaving a heavy feel to the air and blazing temperatures that threatened to climb even higher as the afternoon wore on. Clouds hovered on the northeastern horizon. Virga wisped down from their undersides like gray fur, the potential rain evaporating before it hit the ground. It was not a phenomenon I’d ever seen in the Pacific Northwest. Here, precipitation teased the parched land below. At least the spreading clouds might offer some relief from the heat.
My flight to Seattle would leave the following afternoon. This was my last chance to get answers from Tabby, my last chance to give my parents some closure. I wondered whether she knew who had killed her husband, then reminded myself that was Schumaker’s problem. My focus had to be on my family in the limited time I had remaining in Spring Creek, however frustrating it was to leave while Joe’s murder remained unsolved.
Now that I knew about the quit claim deed, Tabby might spill what had happened. At least I hoped so. Was she as skilled a liar as she was a cheese maker, or could it be that she really didn’t know Joe had blackmailed Ogden Dunner? The latter was pretty hard to believe. As the Subaru seemed to find its own way down the county road, I thought about Tabby’s face when she spoke of her daughter and cared for her animals. She might have decided never to fall for another man after Bobby Lee’s death, but her love for Delight radiated a fierce intensity.
A similar expression had settled on her face when she spoke of Bobby Lee. Her refusal to help me get to the bottom of what had happened eighteen years ago made me want to shake her until her teeth rattled, but it was hard to truly dislike someone who felt that way about my brother.
I’d expected to see more vehicles in the T&J Dairy parking lot, but found only the milk delivery truck and Tabby’s Jeep. Merry yellow streamers of crime scene tape festooned the area behind the classroom where we’d learned to make mozzarella, but a rattle and clank from within the building alerted me to someone’s presence inside. Leaving my heavy tote bag in the car, I walked the few steps to the door. It was ajar a few inches, and I pushed it open. Inside, I discovered Tabby stacking crates of empty bottles along one wall.
Photographs, scissors, a glue stick, and an assortment of scrapbooking supplies covered the long table in the center of the room. At one end a large poster board stood on an easel, already half covered with pictures of Joe Bines.
“Hi,” I said.
She whirled to face me, one hand over her chest. “Oh. Sophie Mae. You scared me.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” I pointed to the poster board. “Joe’s life in pictures?”
“It’s for the memorial service.”
Leaning in, I saw the collage captured a progression in time. Joe as a baby sitting on his mother’s lap. His third-grade picture, already showing a devilish glint in his eye. Around fourteen, posing in a baseball uniform and grinning high, wide and handsome. A similar grin as he leaned against the door of a forest green pickup,
First Truck
in fancy script across the bottom of the picture. He’d been almost good looking as a young man, before the hard living and tobacco chewing. Before the blackmail and bar fights.
Tabby watched me from the other side of the table.
Straightening, I took a deep, bracing breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. I folded my arms and considered her. “That letter really threw a monkey wrench into things, didn’t it?”
She sighed. “Why are you here?”
“Did you hire someone to kill Joe?” It was the first time I’d really thought of that; just my luck the brakes between my brain and my mouth chose the perfect moment to fail. Again.
She blanched under her tan. “I don’t have to listen to your wild accusations. I think you should leave.”
“No.”
Anger flared across her features, widening her eyes and her nostrils. Her lips parted to reveal even white teeth.
“You do have to listen to this,” I said. “I’m sick and tired of getting the runaround. Nice and reasonable haven’t worked with you, Tabby. Now I’m simply at the end of my rope. You’re going to answer my questions, or else you’re going to answer Sheriff Jaikes’ questions about that letter.” I shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
“Why do you think I know something about Bobby Lee? I
don’t
.” She blinked rapidly as sudden tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“You do. Damn it, Tabby, I know you do.” I heard the pleading tone in my voice and stopped. Cleared my throat and tried again. “I know a few other things, too. For example, that Ogden Dunner quit claimed this land to Joe. Then lo and behold, you married him even though you admitted to me you never loved him. But you got the dairy you always wanted, didn’t you? Were you behind the blackmail? What did Joe have on Dunner that could make a man give up his family’s land?”
Her throat worked as she tried to swallow. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Joe and I weren’t even married then.”
“But you knew about it, didn’t you? You told me the other day this dairy was your idea, and that you love it. As far as the daily work went, Joe was more of a detriment than a help. But Tabby, your name isn’t even on the deed. Is that how you run a business?”
“It’s mine now.” Her chin raised in defiance. “Stop looking at me like that. You don’t know as much as you think you do. I didn’t kill Joe, but this place belongs to me now that he’s dead.”
“Of course you didn’t kill him. I’m your alibi, for heaven’s sake. That still begs the question of why Ogden Dunner gave Joe this land.”
Her chin swung back and forth. “I don’t know.”
“You loved Bobby Lee. So did I. You owe me an explanation if this involves him.”
The anger flared again. “I don’t owe you a thing, Sophie Mae. You’re the one who started this whole mess.”
“Oh, no you don’t. This mess—your mess—was here all along. I just wanted some answers about my brother, and you could have simply told me the truth. He wrote that letter to
you
. Only you understand what he meant by ‘it wasn’t your fault,’ and ‘don’t blame yourself.
“But then you had to tell Ray Dunner there was something about him in that letter. Something incriminating. Did you know that jerk showed up at my parents’ home yesterday, forced his way past an eleven-year-old girl and waited inside until I came home?”
Tabby’s eyes widened at my mention of Erin.
“Then he demanded the letter. He even threatened me.”
Her jaw set. “I had nothing to do with any of that. He called me because you came into his car lot and acted like I’d sent you there. How dare you involve me in your lies, Sophie Mae? I had to tell him something. So guess what? I told him the truth. I told him you were trying to find out what Bobby Lee meant in that stupid letter. It’s not my fault if Ray came to the conclusion that you tracked him down because of something your brother wrote. You poked that bear, and he came after you. What did you expect?”
I stared at her, speechless. Then my fist came crashing down on the table. The collage supplies jumped. So did Tabby.
Ow.
“I may have poked that bear, but you
sent
him after me. To get me to stop asking questions? Did you sic him on Joe, too?”
Her eyes widened.
“I talked to Krista Jaikes.” Frustration lent a rasp to my words. “She told me about that night.” I gestured behind me. “Down there, by that river. You’ve lived where it happened all this time. How does that make you feel?”
Her fingers crept over her mouth.
“She knows there weren’t any runaway siblings, no Tom and Jane Smith. She knows who was really there.”
I was half-fishing, though I’d thought about it a lot. The look in Tabby’s eyes said I was on the right track. “There was Tabitha Atwood and … Joe Bines.” It could have been Bobby Lee, but he wasn’t the one who blackmailed Ogden Dunner.
“They’re going to reopen Gwen Miller’s case.” Yes, a flat-out lie. Tabby didn’t notice. I didn’t have any qualms about telling it, and I wished to God it were true. Maybe that was the key: needing to believe your own lie. “And they’ll be asking questions. Lots of questions.”
She still didn’t say anything.
“Tabby! Gwen Miller is dead. Bobby Lee is dead. Joe is dead. They have to be connected.”
Fear shone from her eyes.
“Aren’t you frightened?”
And I could tell I’d hit home. Tabby Bines was downright terrified.
“Please, please: tell me what happened. Was Bobby Lee there? Was Gwen Miller the reason he killed himself?”
“No,” she whispered. “He came later. To pick us up. I called him. I was scared.”