“She means well.”

  My soon-to-be-husband raised his eyebrows at me as he pulled into the parking area of a casual restaurant.

  “Why are we stopping here?” I asked.

  “Because we haven’t eaten anything since early this morning. You don’t want to faint from hunger in the middle of saying ‘I do,’ do you?”

  As soon as Dylan turned off the motor, I threw my arms around him. “I’m so glad I’m marrying you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Do you have everything?” I asked Dylan. We’d arrived home forty-five minutes ago. Having showered and dressed, we were now in the process of carrying our wedding finery out to the car.

  “I think so—tux, shoes, shirt, cummerbund.”

  “Socks? Tie?” I asked.

  “Those too.”

  I walked slowly, careful not to trip, and mentally ran through the list of what I was bringing to Victor’s home: my makeup kit, my tiny pocketbook that held a lipstick and not much else, and everything I’d be wearing tonight. I checked over everything I’d placed on the back seat of Dylan’s car, then went back inside the cottage to find out what was keeping Dylan.

  It had felt strange to come home and not have Smoky Joe rushing to greet us, but given today’s unexpected events, I was glad that he was safe at Marion’s. Considering all the tumult and activity, I knew our wedding was no place for Smoky Joe. Still, part of me wished he would be there. Just as I wished Evelyn could attend. But ghosts, like cats, were not on the guest list.

  “I’m ready when you are,” I said.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” Dylan said.

  I looked around the cottage. When Dylan and I returned later tonight, we’d be a married couple. Though we’d be spending the summer here, this was no longer our home. Come the fall, we’d be moving into our new house—the next step in our new life.

  “Carrie?” Dylan turned, wondering why I hadn’t moved.

  “Coming.”

  Dylan drove at a leisurely pace to Victor’s house. I knew that, like me, he was aware that this fifteen-minute drive was a bridge from our old life to the one ahead of us. It was six o’clock, but since our band, photographer, and caterers had no problem with the two-hour delay, we were doing fine timewise.

  I was bubbling with anticipation as I gazed out at the houses we passed, at the trees and flowers and the other cars on the road. An ordinary sight on a late June afternoon, but one I meant to keep as a special memory as we set out for our wedding.

  “This was some day we’ve had,” Dylan said.

  I laughed. “Yeah! Following Albi as he tailed his brother to the hidden loot. Then Garrett Grimm stealing it, only to lose half the money to Fred Rawlins and Leslie Thompson.”

  “You know what they say,” Dylan joked. “Follow the money.”

  “I’m glad everything worked out in the end,” I said. “All the bad guys are in jail.” Captain Donahue had called half an hour ago to inform us that Bruce “Buddy” Colgan had been arrested and was being charged with a variety of crimes.

  Dylan took my hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you’re here, safe and unharmed.”

  We were silent for a while.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked when we stopped for a red light.

  “Not at all.” He turned to beam at me. “I can’t wait to marry you in front of all the people we love.”

  “Me too. Tomorrow night we’ll be on our flight to Athens.”

  Dylan laughed. “Don’t rush away the next thirty hours. They might prove to be the most memorable time of our lives.”

  I wrapped my arms around Dylan. “Maybe for a short while, until we start our honeymoon.”

  I felt a thrill of excitement as we pulled into Victor’s semicircular driveway. The florist’s van was the only parked vehicle here because Victor had posted a large sign that said, “Parking Only for Our Bride and Groom; Deliveries Can Stop Here Temporarily.” Six cars filled the driveway that led to the three-car garage,

  Dylan had no sooner cut the engine than Victor, Babette, Angela, and Steve spilled out the front door. They greeted us in a flurry of hugs.

  Angela pulled me close. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Victor told us what you went through.”

  “Being Garrett Grimm’s kidnapping victim was scary. Especially when the guy manipulating him told him to kill me.”

  “I can’t believe you and Dylan nabbed a bunch of criminals on the day of your wedding.”

  “Believe me, we didn’t plan anything of the kind. It just … happened.”

  Angela laughed. She put her arm around my waist, and we dashed up the steps to the front door, like two school girls. “Now it’s time to forget all that, my BFF. You are now in wedding mode.”

  I halted. “Just a minute. I have to get my gown and stuff and bring them inside. They’re in the car.”

  “Not to worry. Babette and Steve will see to everything.” She urged me to walk faster. “Monica Dale is here to do your hair—and mine, Tacey’s, and Julia’s. Earlier, she was pacing up and down the kitchen, mumbling to herself. If we don’t hurry, I’m afraid she’s going to take off.”

  “Monica Dale!” I echoed several decibels louder. Monica Dale was an import from a top-echelon Manhattan salon, where she worked for a short stint after catering to the Hollywood stars for many years. She was now the main attraction at my local beauty salon but saw very select clients.

  “I had no idea Kathy was sending Monica over to do our hair,” I said. “She’d told me she could only spare one of the younger stylists because Saturday was her busiest day.”

  “Monica happened to catch your latest adventure on TV, along with everyone else in the salon. As soon as Kathy bragged that you were a customer and Monica found out today was your wedding day, she insisted that she was doing your hair, and left Kathy to reschedule her appointments.”

  I laughed. “I suppose notoriety has some advantages. When I tried setting up an appointment with Monica, I was told I’d have a two-month wait.”

  I gasped when I saw that Victor had placed vases of yellow tea roses, their petals edged in fuchsia, amid white hydrangeas in all the downstairs rooms. They would blend in beautifully with the lilac, white, and fuchsia flowers in gold-colored vases rimmed in teal that Dylan and I had ordered for the wedding ceremony and the dining tables inside the tent.

  Tacey came running to me, and I swung her around. “You’re getting so big, I won’t be able to do this much longer,” I told her.

  “Cousin Carrie, I heard on TV that you and Dylan caught a lot of criminals!”

  “Well, we helped,” I said.

  “I’m glad the bad guys are going to jail.”

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  My little cousin slipped her hand into mine. “Now we have to go have our hair done. Right, Angela?”

  “Right, honey.”

  Julia hugged me. “Monica’s waiting for us in the large upstairs bathroom. I suggested she first do Tacey’s hair, then Angela’s and mine to save time, but she insisted on doing yours first because you’re the bride.”

  “Then let’s not keep her waiting. But first I must peek into the living room to make sure everything’s set up properly.”

  “Victor oversaw that, so I’m sure all was arranged to your specifications,” Angela said, “but I know you can’t resist checking on it yourself.”

  Everything was just as I’d pictured it—the chairs set in rows with an aisle wide enough to allow two people to walk side by side; and a tall vase of flowers on both ends of the area in front of the bay window, where Al would officiate the ceremony. I had the sudden urge to visit the tent outside, to check on that too, but I would have to do that later. I was keeping Monica waiting.

  * * *

  “Hmm.” Monica stood behind my chair as we both stared at my wet head in the mirror. She was a short, burly woman with fierce dark eyes and long black hair that hung down on both sides of her chest. I tried to tell myself that her hairstyle or lack of one was no indication of how well she could shape other people’s hair. I’d seen for myself the results of Monica’s haircuts on various library patrons. They were truly works of art.

  And now she was clipping up a section of my hair and snipping away on another. I glanced down at the floor, shocked to see two inches of my hair lying there.

  “Hold still!”

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  Angela giggled. Julia smiled.

  “You look funny, Cousin Carrie.”

  “She does now,” Monica agreed, her accent pure Brooklynese. “But when I’m done she’ll be stunning.”

  Ten minutes later they were oohing and aahing over my hair. I had to admit that Monica was right. It looked stunning, framing my face while giving the crown the perfect height for the veil.

  “Next,” Monica said.

  “Can I be next?” Tacey asked.

  “Of course,” Angela, Julia, and I said in unison.

  Babette appeared and called me into one of the bedrooms, where she’d set up a table. Spread out was an array of nail polishes, glitter, and decorations as well as all the accoutrements that went along with manicures.

  “Surprised, are you?” she said, seeing my astonished expression. “I worked in a nail salon more summers than I can remember. I love doing nails; I especially love decorating them.”

  I glanced down at my hands. “My nails aren’t very long.”

  Babette grinned. “Tonight they’ll be as long as you like.”

  She showed me a selection of acrylic tips. I chose the set I liked, and then she helped me pick a color. I opted for fuchsia for my mani and pedi. Babette asked what I’d like her to paint on my fingernails.

  “Butterflies on one hand; flowers on the other.”

  “Fun. Soon as your nails are dry, I’ll paint them on.”

  When she was done and her artwork was set, I hugged her tight. “Thank you so much for doing this, Babette.”

  “My pleasure, Carrie. You and Dylan are our dear friends. Victor and I are thrilled to be a part of your wedding.”

  Something in her tone made me study her face. She was glowing. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

  Just then Tacey burst into the room. “Please do my nails, Babette. Please paint them pink!”

  Victor entered close behind her. “Carrie, the photographer has arrived. He’s setting up his equipment on the back lawn and wants to know how soon you’ll be ready.”

  I felt a moment of panic. “Rienzo is here? But I’m not dressed! I need Angela and Julia to help me put on my gown so I don’t muss my hair, and I still have to do my makeup. They need to get dressed, and so does Tacey, and—”

  Victor rubbed my back. “Calm yourself, my dear. No need to work yourself into a tizzy. Rienzo can wait.” He shot me a wicked grin. “I think he’s come ahead of time because he’s eager to hear about your adventures earlier today. Frankly, so am I.”

  “Victor, dear, I think Carrie could use a glass of wine right now,” Babette said.

  “Coming right up, my love. And I’ll bring one for you too.”

  The smile they shared was brief but electric.

  “Can I have some soda?” Tacey asked. “Please.”

  “Why not?” Victor said, and took off.

  Tacey asked for a unicorn on each of her thumbnails, and Babette got to work.

  Victor returned with our drinks. I thanked him and took a hefty swallow of my white Bordeaux and immediately felt relaxed.

  “What is Dylan doing?” I asked.

  “He’s dressed and chatting with your dad and Merry. They’ve just arrived.”

  Men have so much less to do to prepare for their wedding, I thought.

  “Carrie, I placed your makeup bag in the smaller bathroom down the hall. It won’t take me as long to do Angela and Julia’s nails since I’m simply polishing them. They’ll help you into your gown and voilà! You’ll be ready to take photographs with Dylan.”

  “Thank you,” I said, wondering when Babette had become such an organized person. Or had she always been organized, and I simply hadn’t noticed?

  As though reading my mind, she winked at me. “It’s really not rocket science. Just a matter of getting you and your attendants dressed and ready for your photos with Dylan. By then your mother, aunt, and uncle, should have arrived, and Rienzo can take several family photos.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, I was standing on the back lawn in all my finery, with Dylan beside me, while Rienzo, whom I knew from Angela’s wedding the previous year, placed us about the lawn and garden and instructed us on how to pose and smile. I followed his directives precisely because his photos were extraordinary. I’d be thrilled if ours came out nearly as well as Angela and Steve’s.

  Some of our guests had joined us outside to watch Rienzo at work. Victor intercepted my mother just as she was about to interrupt a shot, her arms open to greet me in a melodramatic way. While he and Babette were our hosts, they had also undertaken the role of wedding coordinators, for which I now felt a surge of gratitude.

  After he’d shot several photos of Dylan and me amid the rose bushes and other flowers in the garden, Rienzo pointed at the gazebo.

  “How about I shoot a few in front of the gazebo with the Sound in the background.”

  Dylan and I looked at each other. “Up to you,” he said.

  I hesitated. It was only two weeks ago that we’d come upon Billy Carpenter’s body in that very same spot.

  “Today we helped find all the links connected to his murder,” Dylan murmured.

  “Yes, we did.” I turned to Rienzo. “Fine. Let’s take a few photos there.”

  “Excellent!” Rienzo agreed, and strode down the lawn to the gazebo.

  As we followed Rienzo, I realized our misadventures with Garrett Grimm, Fred Rawlins, and Leslie Thompson would be forever entwined with memories of our wedding day. As Dylan had pointed out, we’d helped solve the case.

  I smiled.

  “Keep that smile!” Rienzo shouted, focusing the camera on me.

  “What were you grinning about?” Dylan asked when Rienzo was done taking a battery of photos.

  “I was thinking we make a great team combating felons and killers.”

  “Made a great team—past tense.”

  “Save the chitchat. Now stand in front of the gazebo with your arms around each other,” Rienzo instructed.

  When he was done, he called over my parents and their spouses to join us for some family photos. Then we included a few shots with Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco, and Julia and Randy and their kids. Then a few of me with Angela, Julia, and Tacey; and of Dylan with his best man, Mac; his groomsmen, Randy and Gary; and Mark, our ring bearer.

  Suddenly it was ceremony time. We all made a dash to the house. I clutched Dylan’s hand. With the other, I patted my tiny pocketbook that held a lipstick, a tissue, and the printed-out page of my vows.”

  “I’m nervous,” I said.

  “Thinking of ditching me and turning into a runaway bride?”

  I scowled at him. “If I were planning that, I’d be sailing off in my boat that I’d stashed down in the Sound.”

  “That would have made a clever getaway. So what’s bothering you?”

  “My vows,” I admitted. “I feel stupid reading them from a piece of paper, but what if I forget some of them?”

  “How many are there?” Dylan asked. “Ten? Fifteen?”

  “I don’t remember the exact number.” But I did remember. There were four. “What about you? Did you come up with more than one or two?” I asked.

  “Maybe two.” He squeezed my fingers. “Later you can write down the vows you forget to mention, so I can hold you to them.”

  I knew Dylan was trying to make me relax, but my heart lurched as we climbed the steps to the deck. I was growing more nervous by the second. It didn’t help that as soon as we entered the kitchen, Mac, Gary, and Randy swept Dylan away while Victor and Babette directed our guests to the living room.

  Thank goodness Angela and Julia suddenly appeared. Angela had my makeup bag. They hustled me into the dining room, where they powdered my nose, added lipstick, adjusted my veil, and gave me a once-over. Then they each hugged and air-kissed me and left me on my own.

  Before I could feel abandoned, my father came into the dining room, followed by Babette. He wrapped me in his arms. “This is the happiest day of my life, Caro.”

  When he stood back to look at me, there were tears in his eyes. I felt tears welling up in mine as well.

  “Don’t cry,” he said. “Your mascara will run.”

  “I won’t if you won’t.”

  Babette offered us each a tissue. “You guys are the sweetest. I can tell the two of you have been close from the time Carrie was born.”

  Jim and I burst out laughing, which puzzled Babette, but now wasn’t the time to explain that her assumption was far from the truth. But these days we were very close, and that was what mattered.

  The first strains of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” filled the house. I peered into the hall, where the members of the wedding party were waiting their turn to walk down the short aisle we’d created in the living room. Slowly, the hall emptied out. Babette had my father and me follow her into the hall and wait outside the living room. The music took on a more dramatic flair.

  “Your turn,” Babette said, urging us forward.

  The flutters in my stomach that had just calmed down started up again.

  Tucking my hand in the crook of his elbow, my father shot me his cocky smile. “Caro, my love, we’re doing this walk in style.”

  Chapter Thirty

  My father and I stepped into the living room turned wedding chapel and started down the short aisle. I looked around and found myself grinning back at all the familiar faces. We stopped halfway down, and Dylan came to meet us. I was surprised and touched when he and my father embraced, something they hadn’t done during the rehearsal yesterday. Dylan took Jim’s place and led me to the altar we’d created in front of the large bay window.