only moved closer to the board table, grasping her fiancé’s hand and dragging him with her as she lifted a sketch of Julia’s gown, which Edie’s mother, Viv, a seamstress, had been commissioned to help design and make. “So, this is a picture of the gown Julia Darden’s wearing?”
“Uh…yes,” Edie managed. “It is, but as you and Reggie probably understand, we’re keeping her and Lorenzo Santini’s plans as private as possible.”
“But most of the preparations have been made public in Celebrity Weddings magazine,” countered Stacy, “which is why Reggie and I are hiring you.”
“I appreciate that, but…” Vaguely, Edie gestured toward the front room again, wishing these two would take the hint, so she wouldn’t have to become more explicit. While what Stacy had said was true, other notes on the table pertained to less public matters, such as the security strategies for the Darden wedding, and that really was private. Thankfully, the notes involving security weren’t in plain view.
“Since you do like Julia’s dress,” Edie ventured, “I’ve got a sense of your taste now, and have some others I’d like to show you. In fact, in the next room, I’ve got photographs I believe you’ll be very interested in seeing, Stacy—”
Suddenly, Edie’s heart missed a beat and her voice trailed off as she glanced through the conference-room doorway, across the reception room and through the front windows. No one’s there now. And yet for the umpteenth time this morning, Edie sensed something amiss. Just now, she could have sworn someone had been at the windows, staring inside. She tried to take a deep breath, to calm herself, but it was no use. Her senses had gone on alert. All the colors in the room seemed brighter; the objects were outlined in sharper detail, except for Stacy and her fiancé, who might as well have vanished. Should she call the police?
Since October, shortly after Julia Darden’s wedding had been announced, someone had started threatening the heiress’s life. During a meeting about wedding safety, the head of the Darden’s security staff, Pete Shriver, had shown Edie some of the poison-pen letters sent to Julia, and he’d even stationed a man on Edie’s block for a few weeks to watch the shop, until Edie had convinced him it wasn’t really necessary. Being watched around the clock had only made Edie more nervous; besides, Julia was the target, and as the wedding had neared, she’d quit coming into Big Apple Brides. Lately, Edie had been going to Long Island whenever she had business to discuss, and now, with only two weeks until the day, most preparations were taking place on the site of the event, anyway, which was the Dardens’ estate.
Edie would be so glad when all this was finally over. Puffing her cheeks to blow, she exhaled, now wishing it hadn’t started to snow again. The weather had been so unpredictable that she still didn’t know whether to expect another blizzard or blooming spring flowers, come April first. One day last week, the temperature had hiked to seventy degrees only to plummet to thirty once more.
Well, everything’s going to be fine, Edie assured herself, shaking her head to clear it of confusion. And yet, she was scared. A few weeks ago, an unidentified intruder at the Darden estate had fired gunshots while Julia and Edie’s sister, Marley, had been jogging in the woods. According to Pete Shriver, the incident was probably some sort of scare tactic. As he’d put it, “If someone wants you dead, they can usually do it, Edie. But this guy’s only sending letters and shooting bullets that never seem to find a human target.” Pete had said that the bullets found lodged in the trees indicated the perpetrator had aimed high, which meant he hadn’t really been shooting to kill.
Not that such information gave Edie comfort. She was a wedding planner, for heaven’s sake. A diehard romantic. That her hearts-and-flowers business would wind up involving bodyguards had never once occurred to her.
Welcome to my life, she thought now. Her pulse was still skyrocketing, and as she worriedly licked her lips, she scanned her eyes slowly over the premises—first over the interior of the reception area, the neat desk, the muted carpet, the shelves lined with wedding-planning books. And then she looked through the windows. On one, the words Big Apple Brides were painted in gold. Draped with satin swags, both glassed cases brimmed with wedding items: champagne glasses, a hope chest, garters and bouquets. A winged mannequin wore a gown of white feathers, a bed waited in invitation, and roses were strewn across the floors. The effect was pure fantasy, inviting couples to come inside the shop and create their ultimate dreams.
There! Her heart beat double time. Yes…she recognized the man who was walking past now! She’d seen him more than once this morning. It wasn’t her imagination. He didn’t look dangerous, though. In fact, he was the picture of respectability, wearing a dark gray wool coat open over a light gray suit. His hair was short. Now he passed the window again, as if trying to decide whether or not to come inside.
A walk-in? Yes, she thought with sudden relief. That was probably the case. Ten to one, he was considering proposing to his girlfriend. After Stacy and Reggie were gone, he’d probably come inside to get estimates for a wedding. While paying for the event was the bride’s family’s responsibility, traditionally, the escalating cost of creating a perfect day was prompting more grooms to pitch in, sometimes even bearing the whole cost.
Good. Edie was so desperate for clients that she suddenly felt tears pushing at her eyelids. Not that she’d cry. Still, she simply couldn’t stand one more thing in her life going wrong. And since starting Big Apple Brides had been her life dream, she really wanted it to fly. If the guy didn’t return, Edie decided, she’d call Pete Shriver, just to make sure he hadn’t put another security man on detail outside her shop without telling her.
What a day! Months, she mentally amended. Ever since she’d been hired to plan the Darden wedding, her life had spun increasingly out of control. The latest challenge was that her assistant, Cheryl, had quit. In itself, this would have been upsetting, but Cheryl’s reason for leaving made things much worse. She’d run off with a man she’d met at Big Apple Brides—a man who’d come into the shop with his fiancé to plan their wedding. Now Cheryl was vacationing with him in St. Martin.
Unbelievable, Edie thought, suddenly fuming. Even worse, the stack of résumés faxed to her by a head-hunter had hardly turned up the perfect replacement. Besides, Edie couldn’t pay enough to attract the sort of assistant she really wanted. Before hiring the head-hunter to screen applicants, most people who’d responded to her newspaper ad had shown up with tattoos and visible piercings. One had brought her dog. Another was addicted to chewing grape gum and was furious when Edie had told her she couldn’t read novels on the job.
The man outside had vanished, so Edie turned her attention back to Stacy, who was saying, “Oh, Reggie, look, here’s the list of songs Julia Darden’s playing. I really do like her dress. I think I’d like to have one just exactly like it. What do you think, hon?”
“Please,” Edie managed, still feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. “We’re going to have to move out of the conference room—”
“But we’re hiring you because you’re planning the Darden wedding,” persisted Stacy.
“Of course,” Edie agreed, glad for the business, “but I want to help you consider all the possibilities for your own wedding. So, if we could…”
Just as Stacy replaced the drawing of Julia’s dress, a male voice sounded from behind Edie. “The dress really is stunning.”
Edie turned, and when she saw the man framed in the door, she felt as if her whole world was sliding off-kilter again. It was the guy who’d been lurking outside. He breezed past Edie, heading for Stacy with a proprietary air as if he owned the place, and Edie wondered what was going on. Was he an acquaintance of Stacy and Reggie’s? Had he been waiting for them? He was
