Newlywed Dead Page 2

  “We’d like a scotch neat, a Cosmo, a glass of white wine, and . . .” George paused and looked at me.

  “I’ll take white wine, too,” I said. Ever since I’d broken up with my longtime boyfriend Bobby, I’d tried to remember that there was more to adult beverages than beer. So far I had ventured into the wine territory and sort of stuck there. Wine was a safe choice. I felt it made me appear sophisticated, hiding my ignorance of alcoholic drinks, and I liked it most of the time.

  I watched in fascination as the bartender—her name tag said Ashley—created the Cosmo. She poured from two bottles at the same time into a shaker, adding cranberry juice and a fresh-squeezed lime, and shook the concoction for thirty seconds before straining it into an elegant martini glass. I made a mental note to think about 1950s cocktails for the next engagement party I planned.

  The bartender handed me the two white wines while George took the Cosmo and scotch, and we said good-bye to Judge Abernathy and threaded our way back through the growing crowd.

  “Here’s your wine,” I said, and sat the drink down next to Kelli, who had returned to sit next to Whitney. “George has your Cosmo.”

  “Oh, yum!” Whitney said, and took the drink from George and sipped.

  “How is it?” I asked, sipping my wine. I didn’t want to sit down. The music had picked up to a fast happy dance.

  “Cosmos are great!” Whitney said. “Haven’t you ever had one?”

  “No,” I said with a short shake of my head.

  “You poor thing,” Kelli said. “We need to educate you.”

  “Speaking of educating,” Whitney said, “Kelli’s got a friend who wants to propose to her boyfriend.”

  “Really?” I turned to Kelli.

  “I know it’s sort of different,” Kelli said, “but my friend has been dating this guy for five years and he’s clueless about how and when to propose.”

  “Have they talked about getting married?” I asked, worried. The last thing I wanted to do was plan a proposal for a couple that wasn’t all in. Toby—my friend and onetime oblivious client—had taught me to be cautious. Poor Toby had assumed that marriage was like a business merger, and all he had to do was propose and a smart woman would say yes because he was a billionaire. Luckily, I had been able to show him that romance was a huge factor in the proposal business.

  “Oh, yes, in fact, my friend is pregnant,” Kelli said. “She thinks it would be great to propose and then let him know she is in the family way.”

  “We couldn’t talk about this in the car because of Carlton,” Whitney said. “All this wedding talk makes him nervous. We’ve only been dating a year and I don’t want him to think I’m pressuring him.”

  “Okay, it all makes sense now,” I said, and dug my card out of my clutch. “Here’s my card. Have your friend call me to set up an initial appointment. You can come, too, Kelli, if that will make her feel more comfortable.”

  “Is this friend someone I know?” George asked.

  Kelli laughed. “No, she’s a girlfriend from the aid society downtown where I volunteer.”

  “Whew,” George said with a twinkle in his eye. “You had me worried for a moment there.”

  Kelli smacked his arm. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want to be the one who does the proposing,” George said. “Even if you are knocked up.”

  “Stop,” Kelli said. “We’ll have this discussion another time.”

  George grinned and reached down, planting a kiss on her lips. “I’m simply letting you know I want to do the guy thing when the time comes. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Kelli said. She turned to me with concern in her eyes. “It’s not crazy for a girl to propose, right?”

  “No,” I said. “I just pulled off a successful proposal for a girl who wanted to surprise her man.”

  “See, I told you,” Kelli said.

  “Seriously, call me on Monday and we’ll set up a time to meet and talk about some of the things I’ve done.”

  “Great!” Whitney said. “I told you Pepper could help.”

  Carlton approached the table. “What’s great?”

  “That you are here,” Whitney said, and stood. She took one more sip of her drink. “Come on, dance with me.”

  “Okay,” Carlton said as Whitney took his hand and pulled him out to the dance floor. George and Kelli went out to dance as well. I wandered over to the bar to see if the bartender made any other cocktails I could use at one of my engagement parties.

  Mom stopped me on the way.

  “Your dad’s gone to get our coats,” Mom said. “We’re going to take Aunt Betty home. It’s been a long day.”

  Aunt Betty was my father’s sister. She was ten years older than my father and lived in a nearby suburb. My mom’s family was much larger. She had six brothers and sisters scattered all over the United States. Warren had offered to fly them all in and put them up at the W Hotel downtown so that Felicity had a good showing of family on their special day. When you have a family as large as mine, there are the inevitable family feuds. That said, we all come together when there is a family crisis or a wedding. My aunt Sarah had come with her husband, Bill, and their three teenagers. Then there was Uncle Tom and his wife, Chrissy. Their two kids were ten years older than me and hadn’t come. Aunt Karen brought her partner, Sue. Uncle Alan brought his wife, Emma, who he had met and married in the UK. Uncle Joseph came alone because Aunt Lilly had left him for a doctor. Finally, Uncle Lee was a confirmed bachelor. My uncles left within fifteen minutes of Felicity and Warren leaving. Aunt Karen and Sue were in the far corner talking with some friends of Warren’s family. They loved to talk politics, and from what I could see they found people who agreed with their political views.

  “Where are Aunt Sarah and Uncle Bill?” I asked, looking around.

  “Sarah and Bill left right after Felicity,” Mom said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t get to say good-bye.”

  “They’ll be at the house tomorrow for brunch,” Mom said. “You’ll see them then.”

  Dad walked up with Mom’s coat in his hands. His own coat was thrown over his rented tux. “Ready?”

  “Where’s Aunt Betty?” I asked looking around him.

  “She’s waiting at the door. The music is getting to her,” Dad said as he helped Mom into her coat.

  “It was a wonderful wedding,” I said, and gave my parents a hug and a kiss. “Felicity looked so happy.”

  Dad ran his hand over his bristled hair. “Who would have figured we would be part of high society?”

  “I think we fit in just fine,” Mom said, and patted Dad’s hand. “Did you say good-bye to the Evanses?”

  “Yes,” Dad said. “They want us to come for dinner in two weeks.”

  “Wonderful, I’ll talk to Emily tomorrow. You did remind them we are having a brunch tomorrow at the house, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, they said they wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Perfect,” Mom said, and turned to me. “Well, honey, we’ll see you in the morning. Are you bringing Gage?”

  “I’ve asked him,” I said. “But his mom just got out of the hospital, so I don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”

  “That’s right, poor thing. Terrible to break your ankle so badly you need surgery.” Mom hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Tell him hi for us.”

  “I will.”

  Dad gave me a bear hug. “See that you get home safe.”

  “I will.” I hugged Dad back. He was a solidly built man, and at five feet ten inches, he was just two inches taller than me.

  “Text when you get home,” Mom said over her shoulder as they left.

  “You’ll be asleep,” I called after her.

  “Text anyway.” She waved at me.

  I shook my head and glanced at the time on my phone. It was only ten P.M. There were still two hours of party left. I was not old or dead. I needed to try to mingle some more. But first I wanted to text Gage and see how he was.

  I made my way back to the bar area. There was only Ashley tending the bar. There were two guys ahead of me. I pulled my phone from my clutch and did a quick check. Gage had texted at eight P.M. to say he hoped I was having a good time. I texted back. “Wish you were here.”

  “Hey, lonely lady,” Ashley said. “Can I get you something?”

  “What?” I said, and looked up at her.

  “You look like you could use a drink, and here I am, a bartender with lots of free booze. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Oh.” I put my phone away, embarrassed to be caught texting at a wedding reception. “I don’t know,” I said with a sad shake of my head. “Do you know any good 1950s cocktails?”

  “Well, that’s an interesting question,” she said, and leaned her elbows on the counter. “Are you looking for a martini? Or something classic?”

  “I’m sorry, that was vague,” I said and held out my hand. “I’m Pepper, the bride’s sister.”

  “And maid of honor,” Ashley said, and eyed my bridesmaid’s gown.

  “Oh, right,” I said. “You’re very observant.”

  “It’s part of being a bartender,” she said. “I’m Ashley Klein, by the way. Now, martini or something classic?”

  “Surprise me,” I said. “I don’t know anything about cocktails. I’ve been sort of stuck in beer for most of my life.”

  She eyed me knowingly. “Well, then, let me fix you something better than beer.” Ashley pulled out a shaker and filled it with crushed ice, gin, cherry brandy, lemon juice, and club soda She shook it and strained it into a martini glass, then pushed the glass toward me.

  “This is a Singapore Sling.”

  I picked it up and took a sip. “Wow!” I said as I let the tartness tingle my taste buds a second time. “This is awesome.”

  “Thanks,” Ashley said with pride. As I sipped my newfound favorite drink, I noticed that she looked to be in her mid- to late thirties, but when I talked to her she seemed as if she might be in her mid-twenties like me. Maybe she seemed older because of how scary skinny she was.

  “Do you bartend at weddings often?” I had to ask. She really didn’t seem the type that was hired for such events. Her stained teeth and the lines in her lips gave away that she was a heavy smoker. Her hair was dull blond and thinning, but her eyes were bright.

  “I’ve done a few weddings. Some higher end ones, but this is my first gig here,” Ashley admitted. “I usually bartend at the Elks Lodge or when someone gets married at the fire station. When this opportunity came up, I had to take it. Christmas is coming up.”

  “I know,” I said, and sipped my drink. “A girl has to work.”

  “That’s right,” Ashley said. She glanced around to ensure the other bartender was gone and leaned against the bar. “What do you do for a living, Pepper?” she asked me. “Or is that a bad question. I mean, considering the crowd.” She waved her hand. “You don’t seem like a trust-fund girl.”

  I laughed. “What gave it away? The hair or the shoes?”

  Ashley laughed. “You’re the only one here all night who talked to me like a person.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad. I mean, they are my family, and we’re not trust-fund people.”

  “Oh, gee, now I’ve gone and offended you,” she said and straightened. “I’m sorry. It’s just that most of these people don’t seem as nice as you.”

  “It’s all right. It’s a wedding. Most people get nuts at weddings,” I said. “Right?”

  “There’s truth in that,” Ashley said, and leaned on the bar. “So your sister married into society?”

  “Warren’s a great guy,” I said, not sure why I felt the need to defend him. “He actually got me started in my business. I’m an event planner. I plan engagements and engagement parties.” I pulled out one of my cards and handed it to her. “Perfect Proposals.” I sipped my drink.

  “Huh. People plan proposals?” Ashley said. “You mean like flash mobs and airplane banners and such?” She looked up and something seemed to catch her eye. She paused a moment. “What was I saying?” Then suddenly she gripped the bar and closed her eyes. “Whoa.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” I set my drink aside. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “It’s nothing,” Ashley said with her eyes closed as she rubbed her left temple. “Just a minor spell. I get them sometimes. You see, I had a head injury once. Sometimes flashbacks come up when I see a certain color or even smell something. My doctors said they were triggers and I shouldn’t worry.”

  “Was it a bad injury? What happened?”

  “I don’t really remember,” Ashley said. She slowly opened her eyes and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. “I woke up in the hospital. The last thing I remembered was riding in a homecoming parade—”

  “Wait, homecoming parade,” I said. “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-five,” Ashley said, and tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know people think I look older.”

  “So you were at college riding in the homecoming parade and what happened?” I asked, trying not to let her see that I thought she was older, too.

  “Apparently, sometime between the parade and when I woke up, I was attacked. Shot, actually.” She lifted her lank hair and showed me a thumbprint-sized scar just above her temple. “My best friend was killed that night. They tell me we were together. I survived and she didn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  She shrugged. “It was a couple of years ago and I can’t remember what happened. It’s usually no biggie except when I have one of these spells. It hurts like a lightning bolt went off in my head.”

  “Like just now.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Weird, but it’s the third time it’s happened in the last hour. It usually doesn’t do that.” Ashley scanned the crowd as if she were looking for someone.

  Maybe she was looking for the trigger for her flashbacks.

  “Is it someone who’s here that’s causing it?” I asked. “Or a smell, maybe? Maybe it’s the dance floor lighting.”

  Ashley merely winced, clearly preoccupied with whatever was going on in her head. A young guy and a girl made their way to the bar and I stepped back to let them order their drinks. I slipped two dollars into Ashley’s tip jar. She seemed to really need the cash.

  The guy was really young, but very wealthy. I noticed he had a preppy haircut and was wearing a Valentino tux. His shoes were highly polished soft leather, surely from Italy. If I knew anything, I knew my designers. I sighed at the fact that someone so young could dress so well. Clearly they came from Warren’s side of the family.

  “I’ll take a martini,” he said with a snicker. His blue gaze was rowdy, his mouth pulling into a sneer. “Shaken, not stirred.”

  “Stop it, Clark,” the girl with him said, and frowned. “He wants a Coke.”

  “No, I want a martini.” He ran his hands down his lapels. “I’m wearing a tux. I should get to drink a martini.”

  “You know I can’t serve you,” Ashley said. “You aren’t old enough to drink, so stop coming over here and pretending that I should serve you.”

  “Aw, come on, one martini is not going to hurt me,” Clark said.

  “It can hurt you,” Ashley said sternly. “It kills brain cells.”

  “It kills brain cells,” Clark mocked. He turned to Ashley and narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to tell my mother that you talked back to me and refused to serve me. She’s a Fulcrum. Everyone knows you don’t mess with a Fulcrum. You’re going to find your butt out the door faster than you can down a shot of whiskey.” Clark stormed off.

  The girl stayed. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “I’ll take that Coke.”

  Ashley poured cola over ice and the girl sipped it from a straw, chatting with Ashley. The music had turned from a slow waltz to a fast swing beat, and I couldn’t really tell what they were talking about, but it seemed like Ashley knew the girl and the boy who had stomped off.

  I perused the room, but saw that there was no opportunity to mingle. I checked my phone but Gage hadn’t answered my text. Sighing, I pulled my attention back to Ashley. The young girl had left and we were alone again. “I thought you said you hadn’t served here before,” I shouted over the loud music. “But you seemed to know those two.” I nodded my head in the direction of the table where Clark had flung himself into a chair next to a woman who looked like she was in her early fifties.

  “Oh, yeah, no,” Ashley said. “This is my first time here. I met Samantha Lyn and Clark when I was bartending Clark’s cousin’s wedding in October.” Ashley grabbed a bar towel and wiped down the bar. “Samantha Lyn was bored and came over for a cola then and we struck up a conversation—sort of how you and I are talking now. I have a sense for people, and Samantha Lyn has her head on straight. She’s a nice kid.”

  “Oh,” I said, and sipped my drink. “Funny how you saw them at two weddings in a few months’ span.”

  “It’s a small world,” Ashley said. “With a country club scene this expensive, it’s a little inbred, if you know what I mean.”

  “No,” I said, and shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “There are only so many people in the area who can afford the fees. That means that whenever you attend one of these functions you tend to see the same people over and over again. It’s sort of like attending a small college. After a while everyone knows everyone else.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Sounds like you attended a small college.”

  “I did,” she said, “but before you ask, I didn’t graduate.” She pointed to her head. “Graduating sort of got blown away.” She tried to make light of her injury but she failed and could tell I saw through her. “Really,” Ashley said. “Bartending weddings brings in good money, and the people aren’t all bad. Take Samantha Lyn—” She pointed toward the dance floor where the young girl was dancing with a reluctant Clark. “It’s too bad that she’s mixed up with Clark. He’s trouble—a real momma’s boy. I don’t know what she’s doing with him. If you ask me, she’s out of his league.” Ashley shrugged.