Murder With Ganache: A Key West Food Critic Mystery (23 page)

My mother nodded vigorously. “And we’re both a little at loose ends since we don’t have any jobs to do for the wedding.” Hint, hint.

Silence.

I sighed. “We’ll meet you over there in about fifteen minutes?”

We returned to the houseboat and explained the plan to the others. My father, Allison, and Sam took Rory back to the hotel for some relaxation by the pool. By the time my mother and I changed our clothes, Ray’s parents had arrived at our houseboat.

“Oh we’ve come at a bad time,” said Ray’s mom, looking at my faded jeans with holes in the knees and the ratty yoga pants I’d lent to my mother. “You’re just going out.”

“I’d love to have you stay and visit,” said Miss Gloria. “We’re serving chocolate ganache for breakfast.”

My mother got a wicked glint in her eyes. “Or, we’re helping Connie clean the Hemingway House,” she said to Alice. “Would you like to come along?”

“Love to come!” Alice replied. “Will the cats be involved?”

•   •   •

To say that Connie was surprised when Ray’s mother showed up with us was a gross understatement. But she distributed cleaning supplies without comment and managed to assign Alice tasks that would keep her at a distance. Donna Vanderveen rounded out our crew, telling stories about the cats and the history of the house as we worked. We whisked through the rooms of the main house, vacuuming up cat hair, dusting, and mopping, and then climbed the stairs to the second-floor office in the small building behind the house. A calico cat was asleep on the edge of the sloped roof at the top of the stairs.

“That’s Audrey Hepburn,” Donna explained. “She guards Hemingway’s office.”

Inside, a striped tabby snoozed in the chair where Hemingway used to read the pages he’d typed that morning.

“Meet Harry Truman,” Donna said, prying him out of the easy chair. “Sorry to turn you out, old pal, but we have work to do here.”

I dusted the surfaces of the desk and the keys of Hemingway’s little manual typewriter, awed by a sense of history. If he could turn out masterpieces on this machine, I should have no complaints writing fast for
Key Zest
using all my modern technology.

Ray’s mom sidled over closer to Connie, trapping her in the corner of the office nearest the desk. “I’m so very sorry things haven’t worked out with Ray,” she shouted over the noise of the vacuum. “I want you to know that Charles and I have no hard feelings. In fact, we’d like you to keep half the money. Use it in good health.”

Connie turned the vacuum off and stared at Alice. “What money?”

“Surely Ray told you? We sent the two of you a check for five thousand dollars. To use however you wanted. The wedding, a special trip, a boat, your business—we wanted you to choose whatever was most important to you.”

Connie looked baffled, pained, and a little sick, as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Would telling her the truth about her father hurt worse than what she was feeling now? I didn’t think so.

“Listen,” I said. “No one wanted to tell you, especially Ray. But Keith stole the money. He left the island after Ray told him he had to come clean.”

It took her a minute to process this news.

“So Ray wasn’t overreacting about Dad,” she said.

“He didn’t want to say anything. He knew how much it meant to be reconciled with your father,” Mom said. “But we insisted you should know the truth.”

Connie sank to the floor, slumping against the wall cross-legged. “I can’t believe this. I know it sounds silly, since my father’s the one who left me, but it felt like I needed my family at our wedding. And when Ray insinuated that Dad caused the problem between them, I thought he couldn’t handle the competition, that he wanted to be the only man in my life.”

I had a hard time holding back tears, and Mom looked like she was struggling the same way. “Of course you did,” Mom said. “That’s what your father led you to believe.”

“Now I’ve thrown everything away, especially an amazing husband.” Connie dropped her head to her hands. “In exchange for my only blood relative, who turns out to be a thief and a major zero.”

“Oh honey,” my mother said, kneeling down and squeezing Connie tightly. “We are your family. And Ray is your family. And Ray’s family is your family—can’t you see how much they adore you?”

“It’s true,” said Alice, who was no longer trying not to cry. “We do.”

“Gosh,” I said, “no family is perfect. Even mine.” Mom snickered and reached up for my hand. “Sometimes the family we adopt turns out stronger than the one that donated the DNA.”

“And don’t forget, your mother is with you every minute of every day. And she always will be,” said my mother, who now had a firm grip on Connie’s shoulders. “Now listen to me, do you have any questions about Ray as your life partner?”

“No,” said Connie softly. “But after what I’ve put him through, I’m not sure he feels the same way.” She stood up, brushed off her shorts, and turned to Ray’s mother. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything.”

Alice laughed. “You’ll have a lifetime to make mistakes. Let’s call him right now—see if you can coax him back down the aisle. I don’t want to lose my chance at the best daughter-in-law that I could have imagined.”

They hugged, and Connie ran downstairs to call Ray. She perched on the filigreed metal bench by the pool that Hemingway’s wife had built in a low moment of their marriage. Within a few minutes, she was back, bursting with excitement.

“The good news is that the wedding’s on again. The bad news is we canceled all the arrangements so there’s no way to go forward.” She made a sad face. “I’m sorry, Hayley. We worked so hard on all that stuff.”

“Fort Zachary Taylor beach is definitely out,” I said. “They must have had a waiting list for that spot a mile long. The lady was on the phone with the next bride before I even finished telling her what happened.”

“We’ll get creative,” Mom said. “We’ll think of something. What about the Casa Marina? They must host some lovely weddings.”

“We checked the prices there early on,” I said. “Not in the budget.”

“Would you consider getting married here?” Donna asked. “It’s short notice, but we had a couple cancel yesterday—they were supposed to have the ceremony on the grounds tomorrow night. Reception too. As long as you like cats.”

“I love cats!” Connie yelped.

“I’m calling Jennifer Cornell right now,” I said, “to see if they can raise your reception from the dead in twenty-four hours.” Then I felt a rush of dismay. “But there’s no way we can bake all those lime cupcakes.”

Connie took hold of both my elbows and gave me a little shake. “You saved my marriage. Don’t even think about the cupcakes. You know Ray would be happy with sticky buns and bacon-covered doughnuts.”

The most dangerous food is wedding cake.

—James Thurber

The guitar player and the violinist shifted from “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” into Pachelbel’s
Canon
. I turned to Connie, whose eyes had filled with tears at the sound of the first few haunting notes. I reached up to settle the circle of tiny white roses into her curls.

“One last thing,” said my mother. “I had this made for you. She’s here with you, I’m sure of that, but now she’s
really
here with you.” She placed a delicate filigreed locket in Connie’s palm.

Connie clicked it open, then gasped, tears spilling from her eyes again. I peered over her shoulder. Mom had placed a photo of Connie’s mother wearing her wedding dress inside the necklace.

“I thought of having a tiara made for you like the one she wore on her wedding day,” Mom said, “but I thought you’d get more use out of this.”

Connie embraced my mother. “This is amazing. I love it! How can I ever thank you?”

“Live happily ever after.” Mom grinned and hugged her again.

When they broke apart, I fastened the necklace around Connie’s neck and tweaked the billowing folds of flowered organza that fell from her waist to her feet and finally, dabbed at the dampness on her cheek.

“No more crying,” I said. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Then I dried my own eyes and tugged at the neckline of my rose-colored dress, which plunged a hair lower than felt decent. But my mother insisted when we bought it that the color brought out the green in my eyes and the red glints in my hair and there would never be a bridesmaid more lovely than I was in that dress. My mother. She could drive me crazy, but I sure was glad to have her. My heart nearly swelled to bursting, and I grinned in her direction.

She brushed an imaginary speck of lint off my shoulder and patted the cowlick that she’d sprayed into place earlier as we got dressed upstairs in Mr. Hemingway’s bedroom.

“Both of you girls look beautiful,” my mother said. “Go on, Hayley, they’re all waiting. You don’t want to leave a nervous groom too long at the altar. He might change his mind.”

“Some of us should have taken that opportunity,” my father grumbled, but softened the words with a smile in Mom’s direction. Then he offered his elbow to Connie and my mother offered hers on the other side. Connie looped her arms through both of theirs, and I handed her the nosegay of white roses.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

She flashed a radiant smile. “So ready.”

“Perfect,” I said, looking out at the guests. The chairs that we’d helped set up earlier were now filled with Ray’s parents, my family, and our Key West friends and coworkers. I took a deep breath and started down the path between the rows of folding chairs toward Ray and Rory, his new best man, who’d stepped in when Ray’s best buddy turned out to have plans he couldn’t change. They both wore flowered shirts and tan linen pants, and flip-flops—a tip of the hat to Ray, who wasn’t getting his pirate wedding on the beach. Lieutenant Torrence waited underneath the arch in a long white robe with a gold stole draped around his shoulders. When I’d called to tell him I couldn’t come in to make my formal statement because we were desperately searching for an officiant for the wedding, he’d reminded me that he was an ordained minister as well as a cop. I’d booked him on the spot.

Two of the Hemingway cats, Captain Tony, handsome in brown and white stripes, and the orange tiger, Rudy Valentino, lounged on either side of him, furry clergy attendants. Which he did not look altogether happy about—he was not a big fan of cats. Evinrude would be outraged when he saw the pictures. Cats in the wedding that weren’t part of the family? Ridiculous.

When I reached the arch, I smiled at the guys. In fact my cheeks were sore from all the smiling I’d done over the last twenty-four hours. The violin’s intensity picked up and Connie floated toward us between my parents, her mother’s diamond earrings sparkling to match the tears in every eye. After they kissed her and took their seats with Allison and Sam, Connie watched with an aching look of joyful gratitude. She handed me her bouquet, her lips trembling.

“Thanks for the loan of your parents,” she said.

“I’ve got more than enough to share,” I whispered back. She smiled, turned, and took Ray’s hands.

Torrence looked at each of them and then out at the guests. “We are gathered here today in the sight of God, friends, and family, to witness the marriage of Connie Arp and Ray Hanson.”

In the background, I saw Fats Waller and his son, Tennessee Williams, hop up on the table where the wedding cake was displayed and begin licking the icing. Fats Waller swatted the bride and groom off the top layer with his oversized paw. Donna darted over to shoo the cats away from the cake. She replaced the figurines and then rearranged some flowers to cover the bare spots.

Under the arch, Captain Tony wandered up onto the platform and sniffed at the bottom of Torrence’s clerical robe. The lieutenant toed him away and continued with the ceremony. The vows, the rings, the new Mr. and Mrs. . . .

“Love is a risk,” he said as he neared the finish. “Love is I take you as you are, not as I wish you would become.” His gaze swept the crowd. “Let their joy be our joy. Let them be the love in our world.”

•   •   •

The “Hemingway dinner” that Jennifer had resuscitated from the canceled contract sounded hokey on paper, but there was a reason it was the most popular menu in the Small Chef’s repertoire. We stuffed ourselves with coconut shrimp and crabmeat-encrusted grouper, and finally the gorgeous white cake with a chocolate ganache glaze, and toasted Connie and Ray’s future. After their first dance, Ray’s pals swung into a version of “The Tennessee Waltz” so sweet it broke my heart.

Wally came up beside me. “Would you like to dance?”

“Thanks, but no,” I said. It had taken me all weekend to realize how mad I was at him. Too mad to worry about hurting his feelings or even losing my job. I stood up, feeling my face get hot and my lips tremble.

“I thought we were friends who cared about each other. Weren’t you the one who told me ‘family first’ when Rory went missing? But every time I turned around this week, you piled more assignments on me. On a schedule no reasonable person could meet, even if the world wasn’t crashing down around her ears.”

I took a breath to say more, but Wally cut me off. “You’re right. You have every right to be p.o.’d. I allowed Ava to bully me.” He scratched his head and adjusted his glasses. “The thing is, I was bending over backward to prove I didn’t have anything but professional feelings for you. And it’s simply not true.”

“Oh,” I said, my breath catching in my throat. Then I started to laugh. “You did a good job of disguising that.”

He grinned and held his hands out to me. “We’ll figure it out. I promise. But for now . . .”

I took his hand and followed him out to the dance floor. And when my mother nudged my father and lifted her chin in our direction, I shut my eyes and made a vow.

Love is a risk. Yet my parents managed to take it a second time. Someday soon maybe I would too.