CHAPTER TWO

 

Blake has been true to his promise, and not only has he not left my side during the party, he has either held my hand or has had his arm around me every moment. My parents and brother are busy catching up with my cousin Becca Hart, her mother (my Aunt Susan, who is Dad’s late brother’s wife), and Becca’s boyfriend, Detective Jack Harrison. Blake’s parents are busy schmoozing with the mayor and with Ronald Mason, our boss at the Liberty Chronicle.

Blake and I are listening to John Barnes, Blake’s financial advisor, drone on and on about the stock market, until he stops abruptly and narrows his gaze at something behind my shoulder. He lowers his voice and asks, “Who the hell invited Mayor Taggart?”

I’d wondered why the mayor was at our party, especially given the fact that he and Blake have been feuding a bit lately.

Blake groans. “My mother. She invited everyone in town she thought had power and influence. I didn’t figure he’d show after everything that’s gone on. He hasn’t spoken to me since I wrote that article about his misuse of campaign financing.”

John says, “Him trumping up those allegations of environmental safety infractions against your family’s coal business spoke loud and clear. The man damn near bankrupted your company. That was retaliation at you, personally.”

Blake had moved to Liberty from Chicago a couple of years ago in order to take the reigns of his grandfather’s estate and holdings when his grandfather fell ill. Those holdings include a few coalmines in the area, which were always very profitable until Mayor Taggart got his panties in a twist and decided to try to shut them down.

“I haven’t seen him this evening when he wasn’t guzzling booze. I hope he won’t cause a scene,” Blake says uneasily.

I interject, “We’ve already got plenty of people here who would be more than happy to do that.”

Suddenly, a flash goes off in my face, stunning me for a moment. As I’m blinking, trying to get my sight back, a voice says, “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to surprise you there. Just trying to get a few candid shots for Mrs. Morgan.”

“No problem,” I lie, still seeing spots. Blake’s mother had also hired a professional photographer to capture every moment of the party. I think we’re even supposed to have a private photo session for the family after the guests leave. I can’t wait. Grrr.

John is still fuming about the mayor. “His blatant abuse of power is getting out of control. Someone needs to put a stop to it.”

Blake claps him on the back. “Yes, but not tonight, my friend. Tonight, we celebrate.” As one of the waitstaff walks by with a tray of champagne glasses, Blake grabs one and hands it to John. “Here you go.”

Smiling sheepishly, John accepts the glass and wanders off.

He’s not gone for a moment when my ex-boyfriend, Lee Robertson, swoops in and gives me a hug. He and Blake exchange a good-natured handshake.

“Hey, you two,” Lee says. “Fancy party.”

“Good to see you, Lee,” I reply.

“Thanks for coming in from Saint Louis,” Blake says.

Lee shrugs. “It was a good excuse to come visit my mom.”

As he’s speaking, a blonde woman carrying a tray of appetizers walks past him and winks.

I cock my head to the side. “You’ve been here how long and you’ve already made a lady friend?”

Chuckling, Lee says, “I’ve known Amber for a while. We’re going to hang out after the party and catch up.”

I smile. “Good for you.”

After giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, Lee says, “I’ll let you guys make your rounds. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Several feet away, I spot my best friend, Julia Simmons, and her husband Dillon talking to another of our work buddies, Hank Abshire, and his wife Renee. I drag Blake over to their group.

“Hey, guys!” I exclaim, giving Julia a one-armed hug because Blake still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” says Blake.

“We wouldn’t miss your hoity-toity party.” Hank gestures at Julia and me. “These two females have been yakking about it for a month at work. I can barely get my work done with their constant gabbing.”

“Oh, whatever!” Julia says. “You can’t get your work done because you spend all your time playing fantasy football.”

“Pipe it, woman!” He glances around the room apprehensively. “The boss is around here somewhere.”

Renee laughs. “You two. You bicker worse than siblings.”

Dillon is quiet. He hasn’t been overly friendly to me since I got Julia into a couple of rather sticky situations during all of my amateur sleuthing. Those days are in the past, though. I’m coming up on one year free and clear of dead bodies and murder investigations, and I couldn’t be happier.

Suddenly, Blake’s grip on my hand goes tight. I look up at him and notice he’s staring toward the entry hall. His brother has just arrived with a strikingly beautiful woman. Blake has become very still. That’s never a good sign.

I say to the group, “Thanks for coming tonight, you guys. We have to go mingle, but we’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Our friends chorus their congratulations, and I pull Blake aside. “What’s going on?” I ask.

Before he can respond, his brother Luke approaches us, seeming hesitant, his date practically hiding behind him. This has more family drama written all over it.

“Blake, Lizzie. Hello,” Luke says stiffly, holding out his hand to his brother.

Blake doesn’t let go of me to take his hand. In fact, he’s now close to cutting off the circulation in my fingers. “What’s she doing here?” is his response.

I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t like it.

Luke darts a glance behind him at his companion. “Can we speak privately, Blake?”

Blake growls, “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Lizzie.”

Grimacing, Luke says quietly, “Aubrey is here because she’s with me. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”

Shit, shit, shit! Aubrey is the woman who left Blake at the altar, and now she’s dating his brother?!? The appetizers I ate earlier start churning in my stomach when I think about what this is going to do to Blake. My worry, however, is overshadowed by my urge to punch Aubrey in her stupid pouty lips.

Blake drops my hand. “This is low, even for you, Luke. And to tell me at my own engagement party after showing up two hours late?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I should tell you over the phone…” Luke tries to put his hand on Blake’s shoulder, but Blake roughly shrugs him off.

“I need some air,” Blake mutters, taking off for the door to the patio, leaving the three of us in a stunned silence.

Aubrey comes forward to stand beside Luke and offers her hand to me. “Hi, Lizzie. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

I make no move to shake her hand. I am in no mood to play nice anymore. “Sorry, but I can’t say the same. You know, we’ve had our fill of unnecessary angst tonight already. Please don’t add to it.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Luke stammers.

“Whether you did or you didn’t, bringing Blake’s runaway bride as your date to his engagement party was a dick move, Luke, and I think you know that. Maybe it would be best for all of us if you two left. Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about this tomorrow.”

Luke is staring at me, no doubt dumbstruck by my rude comment.

Bristling, Aubrey says, “You can’t throw Luke out of a party his parents are hosting.”

“Wanna bet? I’ve got several burly friends here, a couple of whom are cops.” And I would delight in throwing Aubrey out on her bony butt myself.

They both glare at me. Luke says, “We’ll let Mother know we’re no longer welcome here, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Knock yourself out.”

As they stalk away from me, I could swear I hear Aubrey say something about a “redneck slut.” Whatever. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.

Pleased with myself for finally getting to meet and tell that bitch Aubrey off in the same few minutes, I’m suddenly starving. I spy my co-worker Bethany McCool. She has a handsome server holding a tray of tasty looking desserts cornered over by the window. I head over, intent on filling my face.

I choose a miniature pecan pie from his tray and stuff it in my mouth. I mumble, “Hi, Bethany, thanks for coming to the party.” There was a time when Bethany would have come to my engagement party with the sole intention of ruining it. Not now though. We’re past that.

“Lizzie, hi!” she cries, grabbing onto the guy’s arm, causing him to bobble the tray and nearly spill his entire collection of pastries all over me. He manages to right the tray in time and gives me an apologetic smile. It wouldn’t have been the first time Bethany ruined a dress of mine. She doesn’t even notice, going on unfazed, “I want you to meet Bret Howell. Bret, this is my best friend, Lizzie Hart. Bret and I were just having the most interesting conversation about how the Liberty Chronicle couldn’t run without me.” (I need to point out here that this is not even remotely true.) Bethany looks up expectantly at him. “Weren’t we, Bret?”

“Um…yes, ma’am,” he says. His eyes, however, are saying, “Get me away from this crazy woman!”

Poor guy. I take pity on him and decide to put him out of his misery. “Sounds like a great discussion, you two, but the, um…head caterer lady asked me to find Bret and send him to the kitchen immediately. She said something about having a croquembouche emergency only he could fix.”

“Oh, that sounds serious,” Bethany breathes.

Bret mouths a “thank you” to me and begins to take off for the kitchen.

Bethany cries, “Wait, Bret, I didn’t get your number,” and lunges for him.

I don’t have any idea how, but I manage to get caught between the two of them. Bethany has evidently forgotten about the glass of red wine in her hand, and as she’s reaching for the back of Bret’s jacket, her glass starts coming straight at me. The whole scene screeches into slow motion before me, because what’s going to happen is inevitable. The glass tips and the wine flows out, splashing the red liquid down the entire front of my lovely new green dress. Why the hell not? Everything else has gone wrong tonight.

Bethany’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, no, Lizzie. I am so sorry. You know that was an accident, right?” Her buggy eyes are practically bulging out of her head in horror as she awkwardly blots at my dress with her napkin.

Bret has fled without so much as a backward glance toward us.

I sigh. “I know it was an accident. It’s not a big deal.”

“Good. Because I would never do that to you…well, not anymore. We’re besties now.” She lowers her voice. “Hey, since you seem to know the head caterer, do you think you could get her to give me Bret’s number?”

Sometimes it’s more difficult being Bethany’s friend than her enemy.

“I’ll see what I can do. I need to go change clothes.”

“Right.” She looks down at my dress thoughtfully. “Well, it’s no loss. That dress doesn’t really do anything for you anyway. It’s kind of old lady-ish, and the color washes out your skin tone.”

I can’t even. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.” I hurry straight up to Blake’s room, keeping my head down in hopes no one will engage me in another excruciating conversation.