To start with, don’t panic,” Violet said. She was always fantastic in a crisis because, after a long and storied career as one of the first black actresses to win a Tony Award, there wasn’t much that she considered impossible.
“Panic? Me?” Lindsey asked. “Why would I do that? Just because my tiny wedding that was supposed to be an intimate gathering is now a much bigger affair with a cake that’s too small and not enough food and nowhere near enough tables and chairs to seat everyone on an island that probably can’t have that many pe—”
“Breathe,” Nancy interrupted her. Lindsey sucked in a great big gulp of air. She was feeling the tiniest bit woozy.
“I need to call Sully,” she said. “How am I going to explain this? I’m a librarian. I’m supposed to be more organized than this.”
“You were dealing with a stalker at the time when you were arranging for your invitations to go out,” Paula reminded her. “It was an easy mistake to make.”
“Easy. Difficult. Stupid. Hard to tell the difference right now.” Lindsey said. She couldn’t even wrap her brain around this change of plans.
“Come on,” Nancy said. “Let’s go set up the crafternoon room for our meeting. We can discuss it while we work on your wedding favors, which we need to get going on, especially now that we’re going to have to make a lot more of them.”
“Wedding favors?” Lindsey asked. Since when was she having wedding favors?
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Paula said. She was their resident crafter. She tossed her seasonally dyed cranberry red braid over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I picked something so easy even you can do it. Pine cone fire starters. They’re amazing.”
In short order, a bewildered Lindsey found herself sitting at the table in the crafternoon room with her closest friends, discussing Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, while dipping pine cones in melted colored wax. The lunch Nancy had provided was a typical British repast of hot tea and sandwiches, specifically curry chicken salad and cheese-and-pickle sandwiches, which Nancy had assured Beth, when she arrived, would be followed by Scottish shortbread and English thumbprint cookies.
“When did you decide to make wedding favors?” Beth asked Lindsey, as she dipped her pine cone into the peppermint-scented blue wax.
“I didn’t,” Lindsey said. “This is Paula’s idea, and it’s a good thing, too, because apparently there are more guests coming to the wedding than I’d planned on.”
“You sound stressed,” Nancy said. “There’s no need to be. We have everything under control.”
“But how?” Lindsey asked. “I was planning on a tiny wedding, and now it looks like a good portion of the town is planning to come. How am I supposed to know how many people to provide for? This is a nightmare. And what if it’s just the beginning of bad things happening to our wedding?”
“Easy, Lindsey,” Mary Murphy said. She was Sully’s sister and shared his reddish brown curls, deep dimples and unflappable disposition. Since she owned the local restaurant in town, she was excellent in a foodie crisis. “Ian and I are making the food, and we can adjust to whatever you need.”
Since their restaurant, the Blue Anchor, was the only restaurant in town, it was a given that they would cater the wedding, but Lindsey hated that she had just tripled their workload.
“But I want you to enjoy the wedding,” Lindsey protested.
“We will,” Mary assured her. “That’s why we have employees. It’ll be fine. It’s just as easy to cook for one hundred as it is for thirty.”
Lindsey stared at her.
“It is,” Mary insisted. Then she grinned. “Especially, when I’m not doing the cooking.”
“I feel like an idiot,” Lindsey said. “I don’t even know how many people we should be cooking for. And your poor parents. They’re opening up their home for our wedding, and I’m quite sure they didn’t bargain on a wedding of this size. And around the holidays, too. Ugh.”
Just before the crafternoon meeting had begun, she’d called the woman at the stationery store, who had confirmed Lindsey’s fear that she’d left the wrong list. Lindsey had accidentally given the calligrapher their original guest list before they had decided to keep it small. Lindsey felt like a complete moron. How could she have messed up the invitations to her own wedding? It boggled. And because she hadn’t included an RSVP, she really didn’t know how many people were planning to show up, given that people tended to bring plus-ones and all.
“My parents won’t care,” Mary said. “They adore you. Don’t you worry about it.”
“I am worried,” Lindsey said. “This is so unlike me, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Listen,” Paula said. “There’s no need to panic. The Briggses are having their annual party on Saturday, at which the entire town shows up. You and Sully could make an announcement at the party, letting people know that there was a mistake and invitations were sent to too many people and that you need to rescind some invitations. Sorry, not sorry.”
“That doesn’t seem like it would be incredibly rude?” Lindsey asked.
Paula shrugged. “Um, no. Rude is showing up at a wedding when there’s been a mistake in the invites. It’s your wedding. It should be the day that you want not what other people expect.”
“She’s right,” Beth said. “And I am more than happy to go around town informing people that there was a mistake and they need to rethink their plans to attend your wedding.”
Lindsey smiled. “Thank you, both. I appreciate the thought, I do, but I don’t want to offend anyone. This was my mistake, and I need to own it.” She sighed. “It’s just that I’m not really into the whole princess-for-a-day thing. I’m an introvert, and speaking in public is not my bag. In fact, I hate it. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the vows in front of the people I love and trust, never mind even more people.”
“We know,” Violet said. “We’ve seen your process for gearing up for the annual speech you give at the Dinner in the Stacks fund-raiser. It isn’t pretty. But, somehow, we’ll manage this, and you’ll have a beautiful wedding.”
Lindsey felt her shoulders drop. “Thank you.”
The table fell silent as they all dipped their pine cones into the wax and let them set on the parchment paper Paula had set out. With each dip, the wax on the pine cones became thicker, and Lindsey could see that they would indeed make lovely mementos for her wedding. The best part was that they were useful and not something that would take up room or gather dust. In fact, she was going to take one home tonight and try it out in her fireplace.
“These really are lovely, Paula,” she said.
“Thank you.” Paula smiled, and then a teasing light lit her eyes and she said, “Since Lindsey is too preoccupied with her wedding to offer some Dickensian facts, I have a few items to share about A Christmas Carol.”
“Do tell.” Violet encouraged her with a wink.
“Did you know that it only took Dickens six weeks to write A Christmas Carol?” she asked. “He started in mid-October of eighteen forty-three and finished on December second.”
“Six weeks? It’s about thirty thousand words long, isn’t it?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, and it was adapted to the stage by Edward Stirling six weeks after it was published,” Violet added. “It came to New York shortly thereafter.”
“Fascinating,” Nancy said. She glanced at Lindsey. “Did you know all of this?”
Lindsey shook her head. “No, but I did know that he named Scrooge’s sister Fan, or Fanny, after his own favorite sister.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Beth said. She tied a cotton string, which would act as a wick, around another pine cone as she prepared to dip it. “I heard that Dickens did readings of A Christmas Carol right up until three months before he died. In fact, he used to drink a sherry with a raw egg beaten into it before his readings. Maybe you should do that before your vows.”
Lindsey grimaced. “Thanks, but I don’t think Sully wants me to throw up on his shoes mid-ceremony.”
The others laughed, as she intended, and she was surprised to find she felt better. They would get a handle on the wedding. Maybe not everyone who got an invitation was planning to attend. It could be that there wouldn’t even be that many people at her wedding. She could always hope. Right?
The Briggs party was well underway when Sully and Lindsey arrived. Parking was at a premium, so they left their car at the bottom of the hill and walked up the narrow street to the estate, which perched above the surrounding area like an osprey on its nest surveying the land around it for predators and prey alike.
Lindsey enjoyed the Briggses’ mansion—as a guest. It was a modern, hurricane-proof glass structure that offered a 360-degree view of the islands in the bay and the town surrounding it. Steve and his wife, Jamie, lived alone in the eight-thousand-square-foot concrete, steel and glass structure, with hired help coming in daily to do the cooking, cleaning and yard work. With ten bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, it seemed like a ridiculous amount of space for just two people, but Lindsey supposed she shouldn’t judge. Maybe they needed that much space to coexist.
She’d only seen Jamie Briggs at previous annual parties, as Jamie wasn’t in residence very often in Briar Creek, preferring life in their Manhattan apartment to the small seaside town. The few times Lindsey had met her, Jamie had struck her as being a bit of a drama queen, but that could be because she was more high-maintenance than any person Lindsey had ever met—and being a public servant, she’d met her share.
“How long have Steve and Jamie been married?” she asked Sully.
They were halfway up the hill. Sully wasn’t even breathing heavily, and Lindsey was mouth-breathing as she tried not to audibly pant and wheeze. Although she rode her bike to work every day, inclines were not her favorite thing, and this was a steep one.
“Seven years?” Sully said it as a question, making it clear he was guessing.
“Is she also from around here?”
Sully glanced at her, and Lindsey noted that he slowed his steps, clearly catching on to the fact that she was about to pass out. She would have continued trying to bluff, but to what purpose? She let her wheeze out as she paused and turned to him to hear his answer.
“No, Jamie is a Darien girl,” he said.
Lindsey nodded. Darien was one of the many towns that made up the Gold Coast of Connecticut. It stretched from Greenwich to Fairfield and was inhabited by people who were known mostly for being loaded. Manhattan financial guys, Kennedys and celebrities like Robert Redford, Keith Richards and Martha Stewart resided in the area, making it extremely exclusive.
Briar Creek and the Thumb Islands did not have that sort of cachet. It suddenly made sense that Jamie Briggs was seldom seen there. The annual party was her one moment to acknowledge the people of her husband’s hometown, which he loved so well, and then she could disappear back into her glam life in the city.
“Ah,” Lindsey said.
Sully paused to look at her. She was wearing a green knit dress and black suede boots. Her curly blond hair was long and loose, and she wore a black wool pashmina over her dress for warmth. The wind coming in off the water was bitter, but she hadn’t wanted to deal with a coat. Sully was wearing a black blazer over a white dress shirt and jeans, having also skipped wearing a coat. Given the workout they were getting walking up the hill, they really didn’t need jackets to keep them warm.
“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She grinned. She sucked in a breath of cold air that burned her lungs. “And you look especially handsome.” He smiled, and she narrowed her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re stalling me with compliments so I can catch my breath?”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Is it working?” he asked.
“A little.” She took in another deep breath. The sound of the party drifted down the hill. It was clearly in full swing. This was good. They could go in, say hello, and skedaddle. Sully took her elbow and helped her up the remaining climb, which included a wide stone staircase that led to the house.
It wasn’t that Lindsey didn’t enjoy parties, it was just that if she had her choice between going to a party or staying home, curled up by the fire with Sully and Heathcliff while reading a good book, well, the book and her boys won hands down. And right now, she was reading a really good one, the latest in the series by Deborah Crombie, a police procedural set in Notting Hill, and she really wanted to be with Gemma and Duncan solving a murder rather than trudging up a hill to a party that was going to be—
“There they are! Happy Christmas to the bride and groom!”
In the doorway stood a tall man wearing a bright green tunic over striped tights, pointy shoes and a hat that had a long curving point with a jingle bell attached to the end. Lindsey blinked. She had not expected an elf to greet them.
Sully broke into a grin at the sight of his friend. “Steve, you look . . . er . . . very merry.”
“Right?” Steve Briggs asked, holding his arms wide. He reached forward and shook Sully’s hand. “Jamie said I looked ridiculous, and she refuses to be seen with me, but I can’t help it if I’m feeling extra festive this year. So many great things are happening. Like you two getting married.”
“Well, I think you carry the outfit off really well. Not many men have the legs for tights,” Lindsey said. She stepped forward and gave him a hug.
“Yeah, just me and Will Ferrell,” Steve joked. He struck a pose, kicking up one foot behind him while framing his face with his hands. Lindsey and Sully laughed, and he straightened up with a twinkle in his eye. “And don’t you worry, when I officiate your wedding, I promise to wear the requisite dark suit and tie and be appropriately somber.”
“Maybe keep the hat,” Sully suggested with a grin.
Steve laughed and clapped him on the back. “Only for you.”
He moved aside and gestured for them to enter the house, turning to greet the next guests. Lindsey blinked as she took in the festive scene that opened up before them. A massive tree filled the center of the main room. It was covered in blue and silver ornaments and white twinkling lights. Giant silver snowflakes hung from the vaulted ceiling, giving the room a real winter wonderland feeling, accompanied by the holiday tunes that a DJ was cranking out from the high-tech sound system in the corner.
Food stations and several bars were located all around the room, which was particularly crowded. The large glass doors on the far side of the house were open, and Lindsey could see more food stations and a bar service out there under scattered heat lamps. Another massive tree and more decorations filled the yard, along with several bounce houses that had been set up on the lawn for all the children in attendance. Lindsey had a feeling that was where she’d find Beth, and she pointed in that direction to Sully, who nodded.
They had to navigate their way through the crush, greeting their friends and neighbors as they went through the great room. Several people mentioned their upcoming wedding, and by the time they got outside, Lindsey’s face hurt from smiling. Still, it had given them the opportunity to talk about how it was a small ceremony, and no worries if people couldn’t make it, given the busyness of the holidays and all. Lindsey didn’t feel as if anyone was actually listening, but at least they’d tried.
“Drink?” Sully asked.
“Yes, please.”
He squeezed her hand and stepped up to the bar while Lindsey stationed herself under one of the heaters. Shrieks and giggles sounded as the bounce houses wobbled under the weight of their very enthusiastic inhabitants. Lindsey’s gaze swept over the lawn, and sure enough, there was Beth. She was sitting at a face painter’s table, having a woman, who was dressed as an ice princess, paint what looked like holly leaves and berries on her cheek.
Beth caught her eye and waved. Lindsey waved back, noting that Beth’s husband, Aidan, stood beside her with a matching holly leaf painted on his face. A fellow children’s librarian, Aidan was Beth’s perfect match. Lindsey had no doubt that their baby had won the parent lottery with those two and would probably come out of the womb with a board book clutched in its chubby fist.
At that moment, the contagious laugh of a young one sounded clear in the night air, and Lindsey glanced at the lawn to see Sully’s sister, Mary, and her husband, Ian Murphy, with their toddler daughter, Josephine. Ian was tossing Josie up in the air and catching her, much to her laughing delight, while Mary stood beside him, looking alert and acting as a spotter.
“There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor,” a deep British voice said from beside Lindsey.
She turned to find her friend Robbie Vine, a noted British actor, with his girlfriend, Emma Plewicki, who happened to be the Briar Creek chief of police.
“Quoting Dickens?” Lindsey asked him.
“British,” Robbie said by way of explanation.
“He’s been quoting A Christmas Carol for the past week,” Emma confided. “It’s kind of hot.”
Lindsey burst out laughing as Robbie turned a wide-eyed look on his girlfriend, who grinned unabashedly at him.
“Bah, humbug,” Sully said as he joined them and handed Lindsey a drink. He gave her a side-eye and asked, “Anything?”
“Sorry,” she said.
“You have to be British, mate,” Robbie said. He put an arm around Emma, nestling her close for warmth. Her dark head pressed against his reddish blond one, and it struck Lindsey anew that the two of them made for quite the good-looking couple, with Robbie’s movie star good looks and Emma’s delicate features and big brown eyes. She wondered if marriage was in their future, but knew better than to ask.
“It’s a good thing I like the strong silent type,” Lindsey teased.
“Silence?” Emma asked. “I’m sorry. What’s that?”
“Oy, hey there,” Robbie protested.
They all laughed at his mock offense.
“Are you two ready for your big day?” Emma asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Lindsey said. She refused to dwell on the invitation kerfuffle. Emma and Robbie were close friends, so their attendance had been a given.
“You’re tired of everyone asking about it, aren’t you?” Emma surmised.
“What? Oh, no,” Lindsey assured her, trying to look genuine.
Emma laughed. “I wish all criminals lied as badly as you.”
“Really? Was I that bad?”
“Indeed,” Robbie said. “It pains my actor’s soul to watch. Have you learned nothing from our time together?”
Lindsey made a face at him. She glanced at Sully, who was trying not to laugh. She was about to chastise him, but whatever she was about to say was lost as Beth and Aidan joined them, along with Mary, Ian and baby Josie.
The baby was passed around, and she charmed whoever’s arms she landed in but preferred her dad to all others. Beth and Aidan showed off their matching face paint, and Ian took off his Santa hat to reveal the reindeer face the artist had painted on his bald head.
Mary laughed at her husband, leaned close to Lindsey and asked, “Are you sure you want to marry into this crazy family? We come with Sully, you know.”
Lindsey grinned at her. “I wouldn’t have him any other way.”
As if he heard her while he was busy chatting about football with Aidan and Ian, Sully squeezed her fingers tightly with his. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, marveling yet again that he was soon to be her husband. A giddy thrill thrummed through her.
“Lindsey, Sully, there you are,” Nancy Peyton called to them as she strode through the crowd. Violet was right behind her. The two women were holding a plate of appetizers in one hand and a mug of some hot spiked cider in the other.
“Hello, ladies. Don’t you look lovely,” Sully said. Both Nancy and Violet took a moment to preen under his praise.
Violet was wearing one of her usual caftans, but this one was in a shimmering violet-silver that accentuated her tall, slim build and dark skin, while Nancy was wearing tailored black slacks and a snappy Christmas blazer in red-and-green plaid over a matching red turtleneck.
Violet looked at Nancy and then herself and said, “We do, don’t we?”
“I think so,” Nancy said. She turned back to Sully. “Nice of you to notice, however.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
“Now, down to business,” Nancy said. She gestured for Sully and Lindsey to follow her and Violet away from the others. “We’ve been working the crowd since we got here, trying to get an idea of how many people invited to your wedding are planning to attend.”
Lindsey had already explained the situation to Sully, and he’d taken it in stride as he did everything, assuring her that it would be just fine.
Violet found a vacant tall table, and she and Nancy unloaded their food and drinks onto it. “The good news is that some people have other plans, given that it’s the holidays and all.”
“But there are a few, mostly the older crowd, who feel as if it’s their duty to be there,” Nancy said.
Sully and Lindsey exchanged a look.
“This is what I get for marrying one of the town’s favorite sons, isn’t it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It could be that you’re the draw,” he countered. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride. Of course no one wants to miss that.”
Lindsey shook her head at him and turned back to Nancy and Violet. “The man is a charmer. Small wonder I’m marrying him.”
Both women sighed as they gazed at Sully, and Lindsey knew exactly how they felt. He was a keeper, no question.
Nancy blew the steam off the top of her cup and took a sip of her cider. She peered into the mug. “Oh, this has got some kick.”
Violet followed suit, and a slow smile spread across her lips. “Delicious. You should go get some. It’ll cure what ails you.”
“Right now, what ails me is not knowing how many people are going to pop up at my wedding,” Lindsey said. “Did you get any sense of that?”
Nancy took another long sip from her mug. Then she closed one eye as she focused on Lindsey and said, “We tried to get a head count, but some people were rather cagey. Our best guess is that you may have a little less than a hundred people at your wedding.”
“A hundred?” Lindsey gasped. “That’s almost three times as many as I’m prepared for.” She turned to Sully and said, “Let’s elope.”
He smiled. “Now, don’t panic. We’ll figure it out.”
“But I don’t want to have to speak in front of that many people even to say I do. Besides, I don’t think we can fit that many people on the island,” she said. “Elopement would solve all these problems.”
“Except the problem of our parents never forgiving us,” he said. “Bell Island is bigger than it looks. Tell you what, we’ll go out there tomorrow and assess the situation. We can figure out how many people actually will fit and then work from there.”
“We’ll go with you and help,” Nancy offered, and Violet nodded.
“Thank you.” Lindsey didn’t want to be a bridezilla, but she was having a really hard time accepting that her small wedding had morphed into something out of her control, even while knowing it was her own fault. Her librarian rage for order was making her bonkers.
“You okay?” Violet asked.
“No, I’m starting to freak out again,” she said.
Sully kissed her head. “Don’t. We’ve got this. Come on, let’s get some of that punch. It’ll make you feel better, at least temporarily.”
He took her hand and led her to the food and beverage table. A big steaming vat of the hot spiked cider sat on the edge of the bar, and he grabbed two mugs and filled them. He handed one to Lindsey and tapped his cup to hers.
“To being mister and missus,” he said.
She smiled and took a careful sip of the steaming beverage. The sweet tartness of the cider blended beautifully with the brandy, giving it a nice kick that mellowed under the influence of the ginger, cinnamon and cloves.
“You’re going to need something a helluva lot stronger than that if you’re getting married.” A woman’s voice spoke from behind Lindsey, and she turned around to find Jamie Briggs, Steve’s wife, standing there. Jamie turned to the bartender and said, “I’ll have a fifty-fifty dirty martini,” before turning back to them. She leaned against the bar, resting her elbow on the edge, as she looked past Lindsey and stared at Sully with unabashed interest.
“Hello, Sully,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”
She tipped her cheek in his direction, clearly expecting a kiss. Sully stepped forward and kissed the air near her, and Lindsey glanced down into her mug to hide her smile.
“It has,” he agreed. He put his arm around Lindsey and drew her forward. “You remember my fiancée, Lindsey?”
“Of course,” Jamie said, her voice a sultry low purr. Her gaze flicked over Lindsey dismissively. There was zero recognition in her eyes and even less interest. “All anyone is talking about is your wedding. So when’s the big day?”
“Next Saturday,” Sully said.
The bartender placed Jamie’s martini in front of her, and she reached for it eagerly. The drink suited her. Her honey blond hair was up in a sleek French twist with precisely styled chin-length sections left loose to frame her delicate face. Emeralds sparkled at her ears and throat, and a diamond ring the size of a compact car weighed down her left ring finger. Her clothes, a backless print blouse and flared trousers over stiletto sandals, draped perfectly on her size-zero frame. She was stunningly beautiful in that untouchable way that wealthy women seemed to cultivate.
“Excellent, then you have plenty of time to change your mind.” Her voice was flat as she sipped her beverage.
Lindsey blinked. She felt Sully stiffen beside her, but his voice was mild when he said, “I won’t be changing my mind.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jamie retorted. She turned and looked at Lindsey, meeting her gaze with her caramel brown eyes for the first time. “Marriage isn’t really in the best interests of a woman.”
Lindsey glanced at Sully. What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to say anything or just agree?
“In our case, I’d have to agree with you,” Sully said smoothly. “I am definitely marrying up in this relationship.”
“No,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. “I think we’re bringing equal strengths to our marriage.”
Jamie scoffed. “Check back with me in a few years, and we’ll see if you feel the same. Trust me, you marry a guy who you think is your Prince Charming, but it’s only a matter of time before he turns into a frog.” She glanced up at the house, where Steve’s big booming laugh could be heard. He was still in costume, standing with his older brother, Nathan Briggs, who owned the local automotive repair shop. Jamie rolled her eyes. “Believe me when I tell you, it never lives up to what you imagined. Ever.”
She downed the rest of her drink and put the glass back on the bar. Then she stepped away, pausing in front of Sully. She winked at him. “Same time next year?”
Before he could reply, she glided away on a cloud of expensive perfume that made Lindsey’s throat itch. She sipped her cider, trying to wash it away.
“So that was fun,” she said.
“Yeah, right up there with doing my taxes.” Sully’s voice was dry, and Lindsey smiled.
They watched as Jamie walked by Steve, leaning close to whisper something in his ear. He jerked away from her and gave her a dark look before turning his back on her and resuming his conversation with his brother, Nate. Even from across the terrace it was easy to feel the tension between them.
“Well,” Sully said.
“Yeah,” Lindsey agreed.
This was what she loved about their relationship. They had the couple mind meld going. Sully didn’t have to speak his thoughts; she knew he was thinking the same thing she was: that the Briggs marriage was troubled. It was pretty obvious. She glanced around the terrace, taking in the opulent beauty of it all. It never ceased to amaze her that the people who seemed to have it all on the outside seldom actually did.
She finished her cider and put the mug on the bar. It had warmed her from the inside out, and she felt the tingle of the alcohol go right to her head, making everything that had been worrying her fall away. She and Sully would manage the wedding. After all, the important part was that she was marrying her best friend. Everything else was just details.
Suddenly, the desire to be at home with him, sitting by the fire with Heathcliff at their feet, overrode all others. She turned to Sully and said, “Hey, are you ready to go home?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. He put down his unfinished cider and took her hand to lead her through the crowd.
They were halfway across the crowded terrace when a man shoved past them, knocking Lindsey into Sully. With his quick reflexes, Sully managed to catch her before she fell. Sully would have started after him, but Lindsey grabbed his arm. She had smelled the fumes of alcohol coming off the man when he slammed into her. This was not a fight worth pursuing.
The man was clearly oblivious to the destruction he left in his wake. He knocked aside two other guests as he stormed the steps to the upper terrace. When he reached Steve, he tossed the contents of his rocks glass into Steve’s face.
“You bastard!” the man cried.