Strong Spirits [Spirits 01] (41 page)

      
The dratted detective gave me the shock of my life when he showed up at Quincy and Edie’s wedding. Had they actually invited
him
? When I asked, Edie said, “Of course.” I’ll never understand some things as long as I live.

      
Edie had asked me to be her matron of honor, by the way, but I declined the offer with genuine thanks. I told her the truth: I didn’t want to leave Billy alone in a herd of strangers. To tell the truth, I was also certain I’d cry, and I didn’t want to be the only weepy member of the wedding party. Edie understood.

      
It was a beautiful wedding. Mrs. Kincaid had one of her underlings build an arch, under which Father Frederick stood. The arch had been slathered with fall flowers. Edie wore an ivory satin gown (I would have been a little put out if she’d worn white, given what I’d glimpsed by accident that one time). It had a dropped waist and lots of beads and was perfectly gorgeous, especially since she’d had her hair bobbed, and she wore a short veil that went so well with the dress, I almost wished I could get married again and borrow Edie’s ensemble.

      
The reception was held in Mrs. Kincaid’s drawing room with Aunt Vi catering along with the help of several girls hired for the day. All of this, I’m sure I need not say, was paid for by Mrs. Kincaid. What a swell lady she was. The food was as delicious as ever.

      
After we’d all eaten as much as we could hold, a band started playing and people began dancing. Although I used to love to dance, I didn’t dance at the reception because of Billy’s problems. I’m sure he wouldn’t have enjoyed seeing me having a gay old time dancing with other men.

      
Ma and Pa and I were chatting with Edie’s mother (who’d also been crying throughout the ceremony) when I realized Billy wasn’t with us. Somewhat alarmed (every now and then, when were at parties, Billy got spells during which he’d become depressed and wheel himself off somewhere to hide) I turned to survey the room.

      
“What is it, Daisy?”

      
“Billy’s taken himself off somewhere.”

      
Ma knew what that meant. She took my arm. “Try not to worry, Daisy. I’m sure he’s only gone to talk to someone he knows.”

      
That was the problem: he didn’t know any of these people. Since the war, his mobility had been so limited that the friends he’d had in high school, and who were still alive after the war, were out of touch with him, except for an occasional letter or drop in. He hated it when old friends popped by, because he didn’t like people feeling sorry for him.

      
Because I didn’t want to upset Ma, I said, “That’s probably it.” I didn’t believe it. I feared Billy had become discouraged by watching all the fully functioning people in the room and decided to wheel himself home. My heart thumped like a bass drum as I searched the crowd for him.

      
I was wrong. Ma was right.

      
There he was, across the room, and darned if he wasn’t laughing it up with Detective Sam Rotondo. Billy had seldom looked happier. “Oh,” I said to Ma. “There he is.” I jerked my head in the general direction of Billy and Sam.

      
“Ah,” said Ma. “I see.” She smiled one of her warm, unimaginative smiles. “Isn’t that nice?”

      
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s real nice.”

      
“He’s a good man, Sam is,” opined my father as if he were Saint Peter at the Holy Gate passing judgment on a newly departed human.

      
“Right,” I said, even as my insides were churning unpleasantly.

      
But I suppose I was glad Billy and Sam were friends. God knows, Billy needed friends.

      
After watching the two men chatter like a couple of male magpies for several minute, my brain in a whirl, I decided their friendship was fitting. They both drove me absolutely crazy. They might as well do it together. But suddenly I had an idea. If I could get Billy to persuade Sam Rotondo that I wasn’t an evil person . . . well, it was worth a try.

      
And I’ll try anything once.