Holt Wedding

1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-1-4835-0805-4
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 180 Seiten

Will the bride make it to the altar? New York Times bestselling author CHERYL HOLT-with her fast pacing, dazzling dialogue, fascinating characters, and infuriating villains-will keep readers guessing to the last page.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Holt, Cheryl

Leseproben

THURSDAY…

Linda…

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“To meet you, too. I wish we could have gotten together before today.”

Linda stared at Matt’s mother, Christine, and smiled through the lie. Back in Los Angeles, she’d extended several invitations to Christine to come for supper, but they’d all been rebuffed. Now that she and Christine were sitting across the table from each other, Linda was so relieved that Christine had had the sense not to accept.

This woman was about to be Nicole’s mother-in-law? Seriously?

Christine oozed misery, and evidence of her unhappy life was written on her face. She had to be fifty, but could have been seventy, but dressed as if she was twenty. The flowery outfit she’d chosen for lunch was too small, too frilly, and made her look ridiculous.

And that brittle, bleached blond hair! Oh, Lord…

Don’t be such a snob, Linda scolded.

It was a rare occasion when she socialized with someone like Christine. Her friends were the rich, entitled wives of movie producers and Wall Street hedge fund managers. Her own life had been blessed with incredible prosperity, and she was ashamed of her arrogant condescension.

But honestly! It was one o’clock in the afternoon, and Christine was drunk. She was slurring her words, her eyes rheumy and unfocused. The smell of alcohol on her breath could have stopped a train, and since she’d been seated—fifteen minutes that seemed like an eternity—she’d finished off two cocktails, having specifically ordered double shots of rum from the waiter.

What was Nicole thinking? Did she realize the family mess into which she was wading?

“I appreciated your invites,” Christine was explaining, “but my car’s broken down, and what with my ex-husband never sending my alimony checks, I just couldn’t swing the repairs. I wanted to come out to Calabasas—I would have loved to check out your house—but it was impossible for me.”

“We understand,” Linda wanly said.

Don took a long swallow of his iced tea to hide his shock and dismay. He frantically glanced around, searching for a reason to leave Linda alone with Christine.

“Would you excuse me?” he mumbled. “I need to…ah…use the restroom.”

Though Linda flashed a glare that could have killed, he slid away and escaped. She watched him go and could barely keep from jumping up and racing after him.

They were on the resort’s verandah, six pretty tables set with white linen, as the wedding party prepared to have the official gathering that would kick off the festivities: a lunch with toasts and speeches. The guests were trickling in, but Christine had been the first to show up.

“I’ve seen your husband on television,” Christine said, “but he’s better looking in person.”

Linda forced a chuckle. “He was always handsome, but he’s improving with age. He doesn’t even have to work at it.”

“Men are so lucky,” Christine bitterly complained. “Everything is so easy for them.”

She reached for her water glass, but her drink was in the way, and she knocked it over. The fruity liquid spread across the tablecloth and dripped onto the floor.

“Dammit!” Christine muttered.

“It’s all right,” Linda hastily said. “We’ll have it cleaned up in a snap.”

She waved to a waiter, but he was already hurrying toward them. With a few brisk swipes of his towel, he had the remnants wiped away. As he walked off, another waiter approached and put a new drink in front of Christine. Linda nearly admonished him.

Christine didn’t need another drink. Didn’t the waiters have eyes? Couldn’t they be a little less efficient?

Linda was floundering, desperate for a rescue, but Don hadn’t returned and Nicole was nowhere in sight. Matt and his brother still hadn’t arrived, though Nicole had had sporadic phone calls from them as they’d driven down the coast. Linda had begged Nicole to remain on the verandah to greet her guests and introduce everyone, but she’d sneaked to the lobby to watch for her fiancé.

Linda wanted to ring Matt’s neck—and Nicole’s, too. She wasn’t usually superstitious, but if the meal was a catastrophe—and so far it had every appearance of going in that direction—Linda was terrified that it would bode ill for the couple’s future.

“Well, well,” Christine suddenly fumed, “the dog finally staggered in from the junkyard.”

Linda glanced over and saw a man who resembled Don: sixty, tall and fit, ruggedly handsome with a weathered face and full head of white hair. He could have been an aging actor who’d made a name for himself as an outlaw in old westerns.

He had a striking girl on his arm. She was as tall as he was, six feet at least and model thin, with long black hair and big green eyes. She was preening, eager to be sure she was noticed.

“Bastard!” Christine hissed, then she cringed. “Sorry. I forgot that I promised Matt I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“Who is that?”

“My ex and his new…wife.”

“Oh.”

Linda had heard plenty about this fiasco, and she had many opinions about husbands who left their wives for younger women. In her circle, it was a shameful scourge, and she was old-fashioned in thinking people shouldn’t split up. She was fortunate that Don was trustworthy and reliable. In all the years they’d been together, she’d never received the slightest hint that he’d so much as peeked at another woman.

If it had been up to her, she would have ignored Ken Jones, but she and Ken—and the new wife—were about to be related by marriage. Linda pasted on another smile and pushed back her chair.

“Would you excuse me for a minute, Christine? Nicole stepped out, and I have to play hostess.”

“Ken will seem charming, but don’t let yourself be fooled. He’s an asshole.”

Linda sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She went over to the mismatched couple, and as Christine had warned, Ken was very charming. His wife was flighty and annoying, but Linda was a master at breezing through awkward situations.

Nicole had sworn that Matt’s parents could put aside their differences at the wedding, so Linda had intended to place Christine and Ken at the front table with her and Don. But Amanda wasn’t supposed to have attended, and clearly, Christine couldn’t socialize with Amanda or her ex-husband. It was a recipe for disaster, and in light of Christine’s rapidly increasing inebriation, a fight might break out.

Linda hastily altered the seating, wedging Ken and Amanda in with the groomsmen, which the twins enjoyed. Then Linda headed to her own chair, her irritation escalating because Don still hadn’t returned.

As she approached her table, the resort’s event planner, Heather Benjamin, eased over and stood very close so she could whisper in Linda’s ear. Heather was thirty, blond and tanned and gorgeous, efficient in ways that made Linda feel old and tired.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Bennett,” she murmured, “but the chef wanted me to speak with you. He’s been holding the food for an hour. If we delay much longer, he’s afraid the meal will be ruined.”

“I’m sorry too, Heather. Everything seems to be going wrong today.”

“Don’t be sorry. These things happen. Any sign of the groom?”

“No, but I’m told he’s almost here.”

Heather was too polite to say, Screw him, so Linda said it for her.

“I don’t think we should wait.”

“It’s up to you.”

“Let’s start serving.”

“Great.”

“And please send my apologies to the chef.”

“I will.”

Heather marched off to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the stone tiles, and Linda spun toward her table, refusing to second-guess. The bride and groom weren’t present, the bride’s father was missing, and the poor kitchen staff was struggling to keep the food hot and edible.

If Nicole complained about Linda’s decision, Linda would bite her head off.

She braced, mustering the strength she’d need to deal with Christine, but to her surprise, a man had slid into Don’s seat. He was about Linda’s age, average looking, short and bald and nondescript, but he had the kindest brown eyes.

“Are you Linda?” he said as she eased into her chair.

“Yes.”

“I’m Dale, Ken’s brother.”

“Matt’s uncle?”

“The one and only.”

“How very nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He gave her hand a supportive squeeze. “I see you’ve been chatting with Christine.”

“She was the first to arrive.”

Christine scowled. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”

Apparently, he was accustomed to Christine’s abrasive manner.

“You can join in whenever you feel like it,” he blithely replied.

“He thinks he’s my babysitter,”...