Wedding Duress (Events By Design Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Read online

  They stared each other down for a few brief moments while the tension in the room became almost as thick as the aroma from the pollen had been. The awkward silence in which both members of the wedding party and the prestigious Events by Design team waited on tenterhooks was also palpable.

  “We’ll see about that. I have ways of contacting her myself, and I assure you she will take my call. And when I let her know how your incompetence nearly killed the most important bride this firm has ever worked with, I can promise you there won’t be any more mistakes from you.”

  Stacy didn’t know whether to faint or dance a jig. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Jeremiah’s slight shake of his head, urging her to behave herself. Let the old bat call Abigail…unless she had connections with the other side, she wouldn’t be successful, although after spending some time with this woman, Stacy wasn’t too sure she didn’t have the talents and the proper tools to conjure up a spirit or two.

  Stacy tried not to let the fear in the pit of her gut show on her face. Thank goodness for prescription-strength deodorant, one of the tools in every event planner’s toolbox. Of course, if anyone ever found out that Abigail was not only dead but that she’d been dead for a few years now, there would be hell to pay in the reputation department. People paid a lot of money to Abigail’s firm because of her expertise, her track record of perfection, and—let’s face it—because everyone had to keep up with the Joneses when it came to putting on the glitziest event. The Prudell name was ninety percent of what they paid for, and the fact that Stacy and her staff knew how to throw one heck of a party was only the remaining pitiful ten percent.

  “As you wish,” Stacy said, switching gears now that Diana was going to remain alive. “Now, for this next part, I require the bride… alone.” She stared pointedly at the mother of the bride, daring her to object. She forced her voice to become even, holding her head up higher and looming over the group in her intentionally astronomically high heels. “This part is a surprise, the moment when everyone’s breath is taken away, and only the bride can be a part of it.”

  Stacy took a tiny sliver of sick pleasure in clapping her hands and ordering everyone out of her office. Diana Barber, whose color had looked better but was improving, had remained strangely quiet through the whole ugly exchange, and after shutting the doors behind the grumbling group, Stacy turned towards her bride at last.

  “Well, that was unpleasant. I do apologize.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Diana said in a quiet voice, finally sitting up and holding her head carefully in her hands. Stacy wet a cloth napkin from the ice water pitcher on her tea cart and handed it to her. “I’ve learned over the years that’s it’s better to just let her keep going once she gets herself good and worked up. She’ll wear herself out eventually.”

  “I see. I’ll have to remember that for the next disagreement,” Stacy answered with a supportive smile. She patted Diana’s knee before reaching for the famed book, the oversized binder that every event the company arranged had assigned to it. It contained the full artist’s renderings of the day, complete with color schemes, flowers, seating charts, menu and full-color photographs of the foods, and more.

  “Here. Let’s take a walk through your special day, huh?” She watched Diana’s face carefully for any signs of disappointment or discontent, but she was thrilled by the slow progression in her expression, moving from merely happy all the way up to elated and overjoyed by the time she reached the end.

  “It really is going to be perfect, isn’t it?” the young woman finally asked softly, a tear in the corner of her eye as she turned the pages, her face lighting up more and more with every new piece of the picture. Stacy nodded.

  “That’s our plan. We want your day to be as magical as it can be, as perfect as it would be if you had a magic wand to wave over the entire event.” She tried really hard not to sound like a company brochure, but after witnessing the entire scene when the bride took ill—possibly due to an error on her company’s part—she was willing to promise her the moon at that point.

  “Well, I know you’ll do a great job. It’s going to be amazing, I just know it. Let’s just hope we don’t have any more surprises!”

  Chapter 3

  Surprises wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the next three days. As the wedding countdown continued and as Stacy grew more and more tempted to reach for the nearest bottle of anything strong, more “surprises” happened at every turn. If it wasn’t the wrong shade of periwinkle in the ribbon that would festoon the backs of the chairs, causing a clash with the sorority colors, it was salt instead of sugar in the sweet tea for the bridesmaids’ brunch. If Stacy didn’t know better, it would seem someone was out to sabotage Abigail’s company, and she had a fair idea who might find these little tricks harmless enough to be acceptable while still effective enough to make her let her guard down.

  “Nathan, this is Tori. I think you two have met before?” she asked sweetly, knowing that they had met, and also knowing that Tori would eat Nathan alive if she found out he was behind any of the recent mishaps. Nathan was smart enough to turn a little bit pale as Tori glared at him fiercely. They shook hands, and he managed to stay upright as Tori crushed his fingers on behalf of her friend.

  “Um, yes, Tori. Good to see you again.” Nathan rummaged in the pocket of his khaki pants, but it wasn’t enough to cover up the fact that he was rubbing his sore knuckles. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve that welcome, but it must have been quite spectacular.

  “Nathan, always a pleasure,” she answered, keeping her tone as polite as possible, considering she was both pissed off at him and aware that his name was on her paychecks, even if it was forged by Stacy.

  “We were wondering if you’re aware of any missteps in our upcoming wedding,” Stacy said, shooting Tori enough of a warning look to tell her to tone it down a little bit. “We’ve noticed some… pranks… and would love to find the culprit so we can—”

  “—make sure he understands that his life is in very real danger,” Tori interjected, earning another exasperated look from Stacy.

  “—express to him how much we’d really love for him to stop, since we’re all very busy and working very hard right now on an important event.” Stacy paused, her heart sinking a little bit at the sight of Nathan’s blank face, or blanker than usual face. He looked back and forth between Stacy and Tori, unsure about their question.

  “Missteps? You mean, like, problems? And you think I did it?” He shook his head. “Why would I try to mess up your wedding?”

  “Oh, we thought maybe you were just having some fun with us. You know, fun… like when someone nearly threw the bride into anaphylactic shock by swapping out her flowers with a kind she’s apparently deathly allergic to.” Stacy’s voice trailed off sadly as she realized that the fun little pranks not only weren’t Nathan’s doing, but also weren’t all that fun.

  “And you immediately thought of me for some reason? Why would you think I would do something like that to you? To this company?” He looked genuinely hurt, and for a moment Stacy was ready to wrap him in a big hug and apologize.

  Instead, an ear-splitting scream from somewhere down the hall interrupted them. Stacy and Tori raced to see what was happening, followed by Nathan who was as confused as he was helpless. Mandy, who looked up to see three executives from the company—including its owner and her own direct boss—running towards the sound of a high-pitched, blood curdling scream, jumped up from her desk and followed them down the hallway.

  “What in the world—” Stacy began, but stopped in the doorway. The sight made the bile rise in her throat, and she pressed her fist against her mouth to hold back the vomit that she was sure was on its way up. Tori and Nathan stood behind her like mirror-image bookends, framing Stacy’s wilting frame. The catering assistant, still wearing her chef’s coat and a smudge of flour along her jawline, had mercifully stopped screaming like a vapid teenager in a horror movie, but was instead support
ing herself against the doorway, as though the sight was too much for her.

  “I was walking by,” the assistant said, panting between light sobs, “and I just happened to look in here. I can’t believe it. Who would do something so awful? I can’t even look at it anymore!” She dissolved into real sobs by that point, tears coursing down her cheeks and mixing with the flour, forming a gummy paste that ran to her jawline and dropped in moist globs onto her white double-breasted jacket.

  Stacy, Tori, and Nathan stood in silent awe, while Mandy dabbed at the corners of her eyes and reached to pull the assistant chef into a comforting hug. There were no words for the brutal scene in front of them: Diana Barber’s dress stood in the middle of the fitting gallery, still hanging on the dress form to avoid wrinkling, but the words, “Fat Cow” had been painted along the length of the front from bodice to hem in bright red letters.

  Nathan looked around nervously, afraid to speak in the face of so much gut-wrenching emotion. He finally recovered and said, “That’s it? That’s what the screaming was about?”

  All eyes turned to this callous individual. They seethed with rage at the thought that he could be so cold, so uncaring. It was as if they didn’t even know him anymore, and to be honest, most of them had had so little interaction with him that it was like seeing a stranger, one with a cruel, unloving heart.

  “What do you mean, ‘That’s it?’ Her gown! Look at what some vicious monster has done to her gown!” Tori screamed, her fists instinctively balling at her sides. She flung an arm in the direction of the ruined dress for effect, but quickly pulled it back, unable to bring herself to be even an inch closer to the ruthlessness of it all.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad, but it’s not like somebody got hurt or anything. The way that one was screaming you’d have thought there was a sledgehammer sticking out of someone’s head.”

  “Is that what it would take to break through your inhuman walls?” she demanded, her voice quivering with emotion.

  “Uh… I’m still not getting it.”

  “Her gown! It’s destroyed! Her perfect day is OVER!” Tori screamed, the tears coming faster as she thought of having to break the news to the families. “Oh god, Stacy, what are we going to tell them? How do we tell them?”

  Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but Stacy put a hand up to stop him before he could say something that further jeopardized his life. He would thank her later, she was sure. She turned her attention to Tori and said, “Okay, we don’t need to panic. Fortunately, we still have the backup gowns.”

  “Back up gowns?” Nathan asked in disbelief. “The bride has wardrobe changes for her own wedding? What is this, the Oscars?”

  Stacy ignored his flippant attitude and began listing off the other dresses for her employees. “There’s the second place to this gown—an exact replica, of course, even though it will still need to be fitted—and then there are the two alternate gowns from the photo shoots she did for the regional designers competition. We’re going to be okay. We still need to let her know so she can come in and have the replica fitted, but she’s going to be okay. She’s tough, she can handle it.”

  Stacy sniffed before taking a deep breath, her hand now pressed against her midsection as she struggled to compose herself. Nathan still looked confused, watching two women comfort each other through their tears, and two other women stand resolute. He shook his head and turned to go, muttering to himself as he left the scene of the crime.

  “This is why I didn’t want to run this company!”

  Chapter 4

  Later that afternoon, Nathan—who’d tried to escape to his country club for a little golf and a lot of drinking—was still held prisoner in Stacy’s office. She’d caught him trying to make his escape but insisted he be there when she told the bride and her official handler.

  “It will be better if there’s someone here from the family business,” she reminded him. “They’re bound to be hurt and angry, and the last thing we need is for them to demand to see your aunt. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “Yeah,” he replied sarcastically, “especially since she’s looking pretty rough these days.” Stacy slapped him hard across the shoulder, causing him to wince and clutch at his arm.

  “What was that for?” he demanded in a hurt voice.

  “Show some respect! Now hush, here they come.” Stacy stood up behind her desk and smoothed the fabric of her navy blue suit, straightening her pencil skirt and making sure it hadn’t ridden up past the tops of her knees. Miss Georgia and the crown she represented were the pillars of decorum, and it never served anyone well to have to deliver bad news while looking unkempt.

  “Miss Barber, thank you for coming all this way, and at such a terrible time as this,” Stacy said, extending her hand before placing a comforting arm around the bride’s shoulders. She led her to the chaise, the same one the young woman had recovered from a bout with allergies on, and sat beside her, speaking in hushed, reverent tones. “As I said on the phone, there’s been an accident. A tragic accident, I’m afraid.”

  Diana twisted a well-used white handkerchief in her hands while her escort looked around silently, her lips pressed into a tight line. She nodded her thanks at Stacy’s condolences.

  “Who would do such a thing? Do you think it’s a jealous pageant competitor? Someone from the competition?” she asked, obviously grasping at straws to make sense of it. From where he sat behind the ladies, Stacy watched as Nathan let his head fall back against the wall behind him with a loud thud, mimicking stabbing motions into his own chest. She shot him a look of pure venom before turning back to the bride.

  “I wouldn’t think so at this point, considering your reign is almost over. A competitor would have had all year to try to make a mess of things for you, so why wait until the end? It just wouldn’t make sense, not that anything about this tragedy does make sense.”

  She was certain she heard Nathan muttering to himself angrily, but knew there was no way she could have heard him correctly. He’d have to be the stupidest male animal alive to make disparaging remarks at a dark moment like this.

  “Can I… can I see it?” Diana said in a whisper before choking back another sob. Her handler immediately looked alarmed, and Stacy shook her head.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, dear. You don’t want to see it like this. I know you’ll want to remember it as it was, you know… before.” Diana nodded and her escort relaxed slightly, knowing that the bride wasn’t going to put herself through the trauma of viewing the grim scene. Nathan grabbed his necktie and mimed hanging himself with it.

  Finally, a good idea out of you, Stacy thought angrily, baring her teeth at Nathan and silently hissing in his direction.

  “But we’re going to put this behind us,” Stacy said, trying to brighten for the bride’s sake. “I’ve already called our in-house designer, and she’s bringing her team over right now to fit the second dress. You just stay here and take all the time you need, then when you feel ready we’ll go to the fitting gallery and get to work.”

  “It’s not still… in there, is it?” Diana asked, trembling.

  “Oh no, dear. We had it removed and the whole room thoroughly cleaned. There’s not a trace, I promise. It did have to be turned over to the police since it was a victim of vandalism, and we’ll need to file a report in order to send it over to the insurance company. But we’ll handle all of that for you.” Stacy patted Diana’s hand and stood up, gesturing to Nathan to follow her and give the bride some time to adjust to the loss. She moved to close the office door behind them and give Diana some privacy, but her escort blocked the doorframe, slipping into the hallway and closing the door to speak to Stacy alone.

  “I know you can’t be everywhere at once, and I know you have other events on your calendar, but what in the hell happened?” Mrs. Perkins demanded in a voice that was eerily similar to the mother of the bride’s voice. Stacy blinked at the blatant use of profanity from someone whose entire job revolved around reputation and
etiquette, and somewhere behind her Nathan snickered at the old woman’s language.

  “As I’ve said,” Stacy began, recovering quickly from the shock, “we are just as in the dark as you are. I’ve wanted to ask but I didn’t want to upset Diana, is there anyone who is out to get her? This is certainly not the first incident that has happened involving her wedding day, and it’s only escalating.”

  Mrs. Perkins shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm Diana. She’s a lovely young lady.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe an old sorority sister who has a grudge, or who didn’t get asked to be a bridesmaid?”

  “Oh no, we made sure to go through her wedding party list with a fine toothed comb. The last thing we needed is anyone besmirching the crown with old dirt. That couldn’t be it.”

  Stacy thought for a minute, her hand pressed to her chin. It was her signature thoughtful pose, the stance she took after years of Abigail drilling it into her head that she couldn’t possibly bite her fingernails. It was crude. Keeping her fingers at her chin alleviated the stress that nail biting used to do for her, but kept her from looking low-class. An idea occurred to her, one that stopped her in her tracks.

  “What if it has nothing to do with Diana? What if this is an old girlfriend of Ben’s?” Stacy suggested in a conspiratorial voice.

  Mrs. Perkins instantly jumped at the chance to spill the beans on the quarterback’s “colorful” past where girlfriends were concerned. She spent the next fifteen minutes rattling off a list of his many exploits and antics, ending with the three different times his parents had bailed him out of jail and paid an attorney handsomely to cover up the reports of his fondness for wild partying and college co-eds. By the time the older woman had finished dishing all the details, Stacy’s mind was reeling and—for the second time that week—she pushed down the urge to throw up in her mouth; who would possibly want to marry someone who’d been around the track so many times he might well have been an Olympic sprinter instead of a football player?