To the Grave (30 page)

Catherine whimpered slightly.

“Sorry, honey. You promised and you never break a promise if you can help it. You have to wake up now.”

Catherine moaned, her eyes remaining firmly shut.

“Catherine, we have to be at the church in an hour. Wake
up.
”

Catherine's heather green eyes flared open and she burst out, “Oh shit, dammit, hell!”

Marissa took a step back, then dissolved into giggles. Her sister rarely used “bad” language, much less shouted. Even Lindsay jumped up and fled the room. “Does that mean you don't want to get up or that I should get out of the area while I'm still on two feet?”

Slowly, Catherine's eyes focused. “Oh. Marissa.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I'm so sorry!”

“No harm done. Except maybe to your relationship with Lindsay. She took off like a rocket.”

Catherine threw off the comforter and sat up, looking mournful. “I scared her and she was really beginning to accept me.”

“She'll get over it. She doesn't hold grudges.”

Catherine sagged and said in a voice verging on pitiful, “Are you sure we have to be at the wedding rehearsal in an
hour
?”

“Yes.”

Catherine groaned. She looked and sounded so tired, Marissa felt a wave of sympathy. “Look, Catherine, you're worn-out. Let me take your place tonight. You show me exactly what to do, which is very little, and you go back to sleep.”

“No,” Catherine said reluctantly. “Patrice will be expecting me, and tomorrow is her big day. I don't want to disappoint her. Besides, it's the rehearsal
dinner
she's excited about, not the rehearsal itself. I can't miss it after all the planning she's done to make it as perfect as the wedding.” She clambered out of bed. “After a quick shower, I'll be a new woman.”

*   *   *

After exactly fifty minutes, Catherine descended the steps to the family room wearing a shimmering pomegranate-colored silk knit jersey dress with long sleeves, a wide burnished-gold belt around her slim waist, a two-strand diamond-cut gold necklace, and matching earrings. Marissa, who sat in the lounge chair directly across from the stairs, blinked twice, raised her eyebrows, and said, “My God, you look beautiful! I wish James could see you in that dress!”

“Oh, he will.” Catherine walked into the family room and looked at herself in the mirror hanging over the hearth, fluffing her long hair and touching a smudge of lip gloss at the corner of her mouth. “I'm not the kind of woman who can wear a dress once and throw it away. Considering what I paid for this, I'll still be wearing it in twenty years.”

“Providing you don't put on twenty pounds,” Marissa teased. “The way you've been eating this week just astounds me!”

“I have a nervous appetite right now. When all of this trouble is settled, I'll go back to eating normally.”

“Which isn't enough. A woman
can
be too thin, you know, no matter what the Duchess of Windsor so famously said, and I'd say people getting murdered and attacked right and left constitutes more than
trouble.
”

Catherine turned to look at Marissa. “I'm trying to put on a happy face tonight for Patrice's sake. And for Ian's. I think he's glad his father is finally remarrying and settling down after all of these years. In spite of everything—even James nearly being killed—I want this wedding to be as joyful as possible.”

“Catherine, you're a saint.”

“I know,” Catherine said dryly. “Now, I want you to smile, be charming, and live up to the fine example set by your big sister.”

*   *   *

Catherine and Marissa arrived at the church only ten minutes late. Patrice seemed nervous, frequently tweaking and twisting pieces of her curly blond hair, expressing horror over the attack on James, following the sympathy by saying she'd been afraid Catherine had changed her mind about attending. Lawrence—calm and handsome—asked questions about James, cursed the person who'd shot him, and thanked Catherine for deciding to fulfill her duty as maid of honor after what had happened.

Ian, who was Lawrence's best man, acted calmly charming. Catherine was glad he kept a suddenly slightly shy-acting Robbie close by his side instead of depositing her in a pew while visiting with his father and three of Lawrence's friends, who would be groomsmen. Robbie wore a simple blue-gray sheath with a strand of seed pearls and matching earrings with her hair pulled up in its usual French twist. She had the prettiness of good bone structure and smooth-skinned youth, but Catherine longed to take the pins out of Robbie's hair, to let down the shining mahogany brown mane and play up her large, dark blue eyes. In a few minutes, she could turn from pretty to beautiful.

Catherine also saw Tom, one of the deputies Eric had assigned to provide protection for her after the attack on James and her. Tom did a good job of being inconspicuous, but Catherine noticed his sharp gaze constantly shooting around the room and back to her. She trusted Jeff and she felt so much safer having him near. She couldn't stop thinking that if someone like Arcos was seeking revenge for Renée's murder, she was a likely candidate for their rage. After all, everyone knew she loved James and if they thought Renée posed a threat to her relationship with James—

Suddenly the minister appeared and announced magisterially that they were ready to begin the rehearsal. For a moment Robbie looked uncertain, and Catherine realized that besides herself, the young woman knew only Ian and Marissa. Catherine watched Robbie begin sidling toward the back of the church before Marissa caught her arm, murmured something to her, and then walked with her to a pew closer to the front. They settled side by side, and within moments Marissa had Robbie giggling. Dear Marissa, Catherine thought. Sometimes she drove Catherine crazy with her headstrong, stubborn impulsiveness; usually, though, Catherine was impressed by Marissa's strength, her perceptiveness, and her consideration for others. Tonight Catherine wanted to hug her for so quickly sensing Robbie's insecurity and putting her at ease with humor and comradeship.

The rehearsal went off so effortlessly, Catherine felt as if she'd practiced it a hundred times. Only a slight quaver in Patrice's voice betrayed her nervousness. Lawrence was in good spirits—even making a couple of humorous remarks to the slightly stiff young minister—while Ian acted relaxed and happy, often smiling at Patrice and his father and even casting a couple of grins at Robbie.

For the rehearsal dinner Lawrence had rented one of the smaller dining rooms at the luxurious Larke Inn. “Lawrence is handling the rehearsal dinner, and I'm in charge of the wedding and the reception. Neither of us is asking the help of friends and certainly not one of those wedding planners. That's what happens when two control freaks get married!” Patrice had laughed to Catherine a few weeks earlier.

“I think that's wonderful,” Catherine had told her sincerely. “This way, the entire wedding will reflect the taste of only you and Lawrence. That's what I hope to have … someday.”

She'd blushed, accidentally having said enough to make her meaning clear, but Patrice had merely smiled, not winked, or teasingly mentioned James, or in any way tried to embarrass her. Many people called Patrice brash, but Catherine had always thought the woman showed a great deal of sensitivity at just the right times.

Within an hour, the rehearsal was so polished that the wedding party was headed for the Larke Inn. Although Patrice had kept the wedding party small, she and Lawrence had invited family members of the wedding participants as well as friends to the dinner. After they'd been seated in the dining room, Catherine estimated the number of guests at around forty.

Lawrence had reserved one of the Larke Inn's smaller dining rooms. It faced west, allowing a magnificent view of Aurora Falls through a glass wall. The water looked almost magical as it cascaded in front of strategically placed white lights, and out-of-town guests went straight to the windows, exclaiming over the beauty of the falls.

Although the outside temperature had dropped to an unusually low forty degrees, the room felt warm with its walnut wainscoting and amber carriage lights. The golden linen–covered tables were topped with fat, yellow candles surrounded by circlets of dark red and orange silk maple leaves. Inside the door stood a round glass table with a large floral masterpiece of burgundy and orange tiger lilies, gold and brown sunflowers, purple asters, and bronze and red snapdragons. Colored silk maple leaves lay scattered artfully around the arrangement as if they'd just tumbled from a towering tree. From the ceiling hung around twenty small, gold iridescent stars, obviously representing Star Air—tributes to the Star Air executives whom Lawrence had invited.

“Really striking,” Marissa murmured in awe to Catherine as they entered the room. “I know Patrice told you they weren't using professionals to plan the wedding, but are you sure Lawrence came up with this decorating scheme by himself?”

“Are you joking?” Catherine asked Marissa before looking at Lawrence standing by Patrice's side and holding a drink, laughing casually, the picture of the relaxed professional socializing with the ease and sophistication of long years of practice. Then Catherine glanced at Ian, seeing his smile, his hand tightly holding Robbie's, and the glow in Robbie's dark blue eyes. They make a great couple, she thought. Robbie would be
so
right for Ian: capable, intelligent, pretty, refined yet fun, totally lacking the egotistical demeanor of most of the girls Lawrence pushed Ian to date—

“You're Cathy Gray, aren't you?”

Catherine jumped slightly as a short woman touched her arm with a hot pudgy hand. “Yes, I'm Catherine Gray.”

“Maud Webster,” the woman announced with the familiar air of someone who'd never met a stranger. “My husband, Ed, is senior vice president of Star Air.”

“Hello. So nice to meet you, Mrs. Webster.”

“Oh, it's Maud. Ed told me you're the maid of honor. I know Patrice's sister is dead and she doesn't have any other close relatives. That's why she's only having a maid of honor—no bridesmaids.”

“Actually, no. Patrice does have relatives—a couple of great-aunts—”

“Oh, neither of them would do at
all
for a maid of honor. Too old,” the woman rushed on, less-than-subtly pushing Ian and Robbie out of her way in order to draw closer to Catherine. The young couple smiled in sympathy at Catherine before heading toward a group of other young people. Maud held a martini in her hand and Catherine had a feeling it wasn't her first. “Lawrence told my husband, Ed, that Patrice had picked what he called
a real looker
for her maid of honor, although he didn't think that was such a good idea,” Maud said loudly, although Patrice stood near them. “After all, Lawrence said, you don't want the maid of honor outshining the bride, and
you'll
certainly outshine
Patrice.
”

Catherine's cheeks grew warm with a blush. “Well, I don't know about that, but—”

“Oh, no false modesty with me, Cathy,” Maud said with a wink. “Say, wasn't it you who found a body a week ago?” Maud tried to sound as if the memory had just returned. “Yeah, it was you. Ed told me. He said there was a woman's body and she'd been the wife of a man you're dating!
And
she'd been murdered!”

Stunned at Maud's blatant bad manners, Catherine saw Marissa's eyes widen for a moment, then narrow before she quickly spoke. “My sister is seeing James Eastman, who is
divorced—
”

“But the body Cathy found was Eastman's wife's. Or
ex
-wife's, if you want to get technical.” Maud dismissed Marissa with a flick of a plump hand and frowned ferociously up at Catherine. “By golly that must have been a shock for you! Why, I wouldn't know what to do if I found a dead body! Probably scream and carry on. I scare easily.”

“Catherine, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” Patrice appeared, nearly elbowing herself protectively between Catherine and Mrs. Webster.

The woman drew a breath. “Cathy and I were just talking about—”

“I'm sorry James couldn't be here,” Patrice said to Catherine without a glance at Maud Webster.

“He's sorry, too,” Catherine managed. “He would have enjoyed tonight.”

“Have you talked with him this evening?” Patrice asked.

“Yes. I called as we were driving here from the church,” Catherine told her.

“How is he feeling tonight?”

“Fairly well.”

“Oh, that's wonderful! James simply amazes me. He's
such
a remarkable man!” Patrice sounded as if James had just won the Olympic decathlon. She stepped closer to Catherine, gracefully but forcefully pushing the egregious Mrs. Webster even farther away, and asked in a lighthearted voice, “What's he up to tonight? Having a party in his room?”

“Oh, I don't think he's quite up to a party,” Catherine said faintly, noticing Mrs. Webster trying to push her way back to her former position, a determined look in her small eyes. Catherine relaxed and started talking to Patrice with easy humor. “James said he's going to watch something educational on TV, but I'll bet anything it's a Lifetime romantic suspense movie.”

Patrice laughed. “He'll never admit to that, Catherine!”

“I know. I also know what movie they're showing tonight. I've seen it and liked it. I have a trick question all ready to spring on him tomorrow. He'll give himself away.”

“I wouldn't be too sure of that. After all, James is an excellent courtroom lawyer.”

“Ah, so he's cagy, huh?” Mrs. Webster pounced with loud verbal aggression.

“Maud, there you are!” A pleasant-faced man with lips stretched into an unnatural-looking smile approached them and firmly took the plump woman's arm. “I've been looking all over for you.”