The music started and stopped twice. It reminded Jess of what happens during intermission at musicals when they want everyone to put down their drinks and come back to their theatre seats for part two of the show.
Part two of my life.
From where Jess sat in the bride’s dressing room, she could see a portion of the parking lot through the window. The minute she spotted Mia’s blue Toyota whipping into a parking spot, Jess felt herself relax. She just needed fifteen minutes—no, make that five. Five minutes to hold her dear girl—the only person left in their loving family of four—to remind her that today only changed things for the better. It wasn’t a speech, exactly, but she’d put some thought into what to say. There just hadn’t been a moment before now to say it.
The music started again and stopped. Was whoever was operating the sound system attempting to corral guests into their seats? Fact was, it was more than a little irritating. Jess stood and walked to the full-length mirror in the room.
The gown was beautiful. The beadwork and sequins looked like pixie dust sprinkled against a background of pale tea-colored satin. Jess sparkled when she moved.
Not at all like I felt the first time I did this. I got married in a simple dress. I knew nothing then. Except the caliber of the man I was to marry. She smiled in memory. That hasn’t changed. I knew it then, I know it now. The only difference was I was alone forty years ago when Gaspar and I wed. And today I have our Mia.
She walked to the door and peered down the hall. Surely Mia knows to come to me? Where was she? Mindy emerged at the end of the hall, her gown bag over her shoulder.
“Mindy, dear,” Jess called to her. “Have you seen Mia?”
Mindy made a face and Jess felt her heart sink. She’d hoped that her soon-to-be stepdaughter had come around to Jess marrying her father.
“Well, if you see her, please tell her I’d like a word.”
Mindy walked past without answering, which Jess thought was at least an improvement over a snide comment. She sighed and closed the door.
Why do I feel sad today? Why do I feel like something bad is about to happen?
She went back to the mirror and looked at herself. All she could see was the beautiful dress and a perfectly miserable middle-aged woman.
A sharp rap on the door made her jump and she hurried to it and pulled it open. Ned stood there, smiling, expectant.
“You ready?” he asked.
“So soon? Is it really time?”
“We have a few minutes. You okay, Mrs. K?” He frowned and stepped into the room.
“Have you seen Mia? I know she’s in the church. I saw her drive up.”
“Want me to track her down?”
“No. I just wanted to have a word. It doesn’t matter.”
The music started up again. Ned grinned.
“Look like they’re giving everyone plenty of warning, huh?” he said.
“I hope it’s plenty of warning.”
Ned took her arm and tucked it under his and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mrs. K,” he said. “She’ll be here.”
*****
What in the hell is Jeff Wojinziky doing at my mother’s wedding?
Mia pushed through the crowd of people, her heart pounding in her throat. Did Mom know him? Is Maxwell related to him?
The closer she got, the more obvious it was that Wojinziky did not want to be where he was. He leaned against the wall nearest the portal to the church as if waiting impatiently for someone. Surely, he hadn’t come alone. Did he bring his wife?
The minute she was close to him, Mia tossed her dress bag over her shoulder to free up both hands and grabbed him around the waist. He immediately jerked away but she hung on. He swung around to face his attacker and she loosened her hold to latch onto one of his hands. He was a big man and the moment of surprise was receding quickly. He flung her away from him, making her fall backward into an elderly couple standing near.
Mia gasped and fought to keep her feet as the couple squawked and scurried away. Her purse and dress bag slid to the floor.
“What the hell, you crazy bitch!” Wojinziky said, staring at her—but also looking around as if worried someone had seen him. He rubbed his arms where she’d grabbed him. He looked like he was trying to rub away the memory of the feel of her hands.
The crowd fell away in her vision and it was only him. He glared at her, then turned and plunged down one of the halls.
The agony of her discovery crept up her back like a raging sore, obliterating all sound and thought. She looked down at her hands and saw they were shaking. What she had felt, what she had experienced when she finally touched him, was anger and hurt and bone-deep disappointment. The kind of disappointment that defies any one occasion or moment in time but lasts and lasts, an indelible feature of your life, your very nature.
But he wasn’t a killer.
Someone next to Mia tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned—like a robot, not seeing or caring—they handed her the dropped garment bag and her purse. She heard them talking to her, but could make out nothing of what they said. She nodded in response and took the items and walked down the hallway toward the restroom.
The last five months of tracking him, looking for clues and leads, poring over the files, even the door-to-door visits with Jack—all of it had been for nothing. The one thing she knew for sure, the one premise she used as her bedrock—that Jeff Wojinziky had killed Victoria—was a fantasy.
She opened the door to the ladies restroom and went to the sink counter. Without pausing to look in the mirror or check to see who else was in the room, she dropped her purse on the counter and unzipped her garment bag. Her mind was a whirl of noise and colors—but none of it from the restroom or the real world.
Disappointment has a color. It’s not just a feeling. And it’s dark.
She stripped off her jeans and sweatshirt, leaving them in a pile on the floor and pulled the bridesmaid’s dress out of the bag.
It didn’t matter that the single biggest let down of her life so far was happening on her mother’s wedding day. Put it away, process it later. Maybe it’s not as bad as it feels. Just don’t be the reason this isn’t the happiest day of Mom’s life.
Mia stepped into the dress and zipped it up. She kicked off her shoes onto the pile of discarded clothes and pulled the matching pumps from the bottom of the bag. When she stood up, she stared into the mirror.
With her pale face and windblown hair, she looked a little like a deranged serial killer herself.
The bathroom door swung open and Mindy walked in.
“You do know there’s a bridesmaid’s dressing room for that, right?” she said, shaking her head and pushing past Mia into one of the stalls. “Weirdo.”
How could I have been so wrong? Every other interaction with him—the very air around him—had vibrated with the truth of the damage he’d done to Victoria. How can this stupid gift let me down like this? Yes, he was angry. Yes, he was violent. But he’d never taken a life.
She stared again at her hands as if they had betrayed her.
“You got toilet paper in there, girly?”
The voice brought Mia out of the depths of her dejection in the space of a heartbeat. She snapped her head up. That voice. A voice you’d never forget. A voice that would make dogs howl from two counties over—strident, scratchy and discordant.
“Fuck off, grandma,” Mindy replied to the woman in the stall next to her. “A little privacy, if you don’t mind.”
Mia went to the remaining empty stall. She grabbed a roll of toilet paper and handed it under the partition to the woman. She held onto the roll until she felt the woman’s fingers on hers.
“Well, are you going to let go or what?” the woman snarled.
Mia released the roll, then went back to the mirror and stared into it, waiting. Jeff’s wife was in that stall. And Mia’s fingers still burned from the brief contact she’d made with her.
The touch of a murderer.
The stall door opened and a middle-aged woman with auburn hair filled the doorway. The same woman who was at Tracy’s funeral. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.
Not Jeff’s wife—Jeff’s mother. Mia pulled her cell phone out of her purse and typed a quick text. The woman came to stand next to Mia, set her purse on the counter and turned the faucet on.
“You’d think you kids could give the texting a break for just one hour. You’re all obsessed.”
“And you old farts are just clueless about technology,” Mia said in a tight voice, her eyes on the message she’d just sent.
The woman sputtered. “What did you say to me?”
“I know you,” Mia said, turning to her. “You’re Jeff’s mother.”
The woman stopped washing her hands and stared at Mia in the same way a Velociraptor observes its prey.
“You know my son?” she asked, her voice flat, her eyes cold.
“Oh, yeah,” Mia said. “We’re friends. Good friends.”
A pinging sound from her phone made her look at the screen. It was a single-word response from Beth, Jeff’s ex-fiancée.
<Yes :-( >
Mia looked at Jeff’s mother, who was now reaching for her purse, her eyes boring into Mia. The message Mia had sent Beth was brief and to the point.
<The real reason you left Jeff was his crazy mother, wasn’t it?>
*****
Mindy pulled her gown back down over her hips and touched the barely visible lump of the AV remote control wand that she’d tucked into her bra. She’d lucked out to find it in the AV room because it featured a volume control that would come in handy during those big “Jess” crescendo moments.
Now she just needed to practice a few innocent looks in the mirror for when it all went down. Not that her father would buy it for a minute. But it was worth a try. In Mindy’s experience, confession might be good for the soul but it was fucked up in most other situations.
What were those two talking about out there? She needed Mia and the old lady to split so she could be alone, but they seemed to be bonding or something. God, that crazy Mia would talk to anyone. Mindy would have to rely on her usual set of perfectly adequate expressions of innocence—the ones that had served her well enough up to now. She gave her dress a final tug and checked her shoes to make sure no toilet paper stuck to them and opened the door.
Mia stood in profile at the sink. The old lady stood in front of Mindy’s stall door.
She was holding a large gun.
And it was pointed at Mindy’s head.