Newlywed Dead (12 page)

“That may be true,” Toby said, and picked up his water glass. “But if marriage is the intended outcome, then it is only fair to be myself during the courtship. If I put on airs for the courtship, she will be sadly disappointed once we marry. Don't you think? Divorce can be so expensive.”

“You think she'd divorce you over bad manners?”

“I've heard of divorces for something as simple as sneezing wrong,” Toby said absently. “Of course, I will ask for a prenup before we wed.”

“Yes,” I said, and tried not to shake my head. “That is really romantic.”

“Romance is overrated when looking for a bride,” he said.

“Really, Toby? After attending my proposal events you still think that romance isn't important?”

“I didn't say romance wasn't important,” Toby said.
He wasn't all that good at direct eye contact, so I couldn't see what he was thinking. “I said it was overrated.”

“People take dancing lessons so they can dance at their wedding,” I informed him. “Manners are a lifelong skill that need to be practiced whether you are courting someone or not.”

He blew out a long breath that was almost a sigh. “I'll have my assistant Francine schedule me for the proper class.”

“Wonderful.”

“And dance classes as well. I didn't realize there would be dance expectations at a wedding.”

I tilted my head and studied him. “Haven't you ever gone to a wedding, Toby?”

“No,” he said.

“No one you know has ever invited you to a wedding?” My tone went up at the end of the sentence. I couldn't imagine having never been to a wedding.

“A few of my colleagues invite me to their children's affairs, but I'm certain they have no expectations that I would actually show up. Usually the invitation is merely a bid for a gift. I have my assistant send along something appropriate and that takes care of the matter.”

“Oh, boy,” I said, and took a sip of my water. The man had a lot to learn.

After our meal, I excused myself to go to the ladies' room. On my way I saw Mrs. Fulcrum and Mrs. Thomson. It seemed Samantha Lyn and Clark's moms were more in love with each other than their kids.

“Hello, ladies,” I said as I stopped by their table. Neither one had eaten, which was obvious by the picked-at plates of food that had been pushed aside for coffee and gossip. “How are you?”

“Pepper,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “How nice to see you here. Are you a club member?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “I'm here with a friend who needs mingling advice.” I waved toward Toby, who had removed his napkin and was currently thumbing through his cell phone.

“Oh, you know Mr. Mallard?” Mrs. Thomson asked. “I heard he was a member of the country club, but I'd never seen him here.” Her expression was full of curiosity.

“I suggested that he come,” I said. “It's good for him to get out more and meet people.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Fulcrum said, her gaze thoughtful. “I understand he's single.”

“Yes,” I said. “Toby's a great guy.”

“Maybe we should go say hello,” Mrs. Thomson suggested.

“I can introduce you, if you'd like,” I said. “But first I'm off to the ladies' room.”

“Of course, dear, yes, do stop by on your way back. We would love to meet your host.”

“One more thing,” I said as I straightened. “I was wondering if you knew anything more about the bartender who died at my sister's reception.”

“Terrible,” Mrs. Thomson said. “The hiring manager
should have never hired her. I've had a word with the board about that.”

“I'm sorry?” I wasn't sure why she felt that way. “Why?”

“The club has standards, dear,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “Drug-addicted employees are below those standards completely.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Thomson said with a nod. “I didn't like her from the start. She had the look of a drug addict. I understand she died of an overdose.”

“I don't mean to speak ill of the dead,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “But it's her own fault. She should never have mixed drugs and alcohol.”

“Typical addict,” Mrs. Thomson agreed. “Those people get what they deserve.”

“Oh,” I said, unable to digest how horrible these two women were. “Addiction is a disease.”

“Well, it's a disease we don't want at the club,” Mrs. Fulcrum stated. “Seriously, I've made it my mission to see that whoever hired her gets fired. They should have more sense than that.”

“I understand she went to college with some of the members her age,” I said. “Morduray College is quite picky about who gets in, isn't it? I understand Ashley was a good student.”

“Oh, dear, Morduray is my alma mater. They must have lowered their standards. I will have to have a talk with the Dean of Admissions,” Mrs. Thomson said with a rude frown. “Hiring that woman caused the club all kinds of
grief. Not to mention ruining Warren Evans' wedding reception. When Samantha Lyn and Clark get married, I'm going to go over the staff myself and ensure that no one looks out of place.”

“A good drug screening the morning of the wedding will take care of that,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “I implement it at all my Xi Omicron Mu functions. It helps keep the riffraff out. We'll write that into the contract.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” I said, and bowed out. I walked to the restroom, my thoughts saddened by the animosity of those two busybodies. As far as I could tell, Ashley hadn't done anything to either of them. At the most she had chided Clark for attempting to indulge in underage drinking. Instead of cursing Ashley, they should be thanking her. It was also clear that Mrs. Thomson thought college, even at a small private institution, was merely a place to find a rich husband. I sighed. What decade did she drop out of?

*   *   *

Later that afternoon, I had a meeting with Laura about her cooking class proposal. I picked a nice class that took place in an old Victorian home setting. It was time to take Laura through the venue and give her an idea of how the proposal would work and why it was okay to have Jen and Brad and a few other couples participate in the class.

“Wow, this place is great,” Laura said as she entered the parlor of the house.

“I thought you would like it,” I said, and gave her a quick hug. “Here, let me take your coat.” I waited for her to take
off her puffy down coat. The weather was darn cold today. The gray sky and bare black branches of the nearby trees were the perfect backdrop for the blue and white twinkle lights the homeowner had strung from the trees and along the wraparound porch.

I hung up Laura's coat with mine on a wrought iron coat rack near the door. I showed her through the parlor to the twin dining rooms that flanked the center foyer of the house. The place was tastefully decorated to show off the original dark wood trim.

“Wow,” Laura said. “This place could host a huge party.”

“That's the idea,” I said. “The kitchen is through here.” I opened the door to showcase the large open kitchen. It was clearly an add-on to the back of the house. The room could hold up to ten people cooking at the same time. The kitchen was set up with two sides that mirrored each other. Both sides had a professional Viking stove with a shining stainless-steel hood. Then there were twin stainless-steel ovens in the wall. A giant Sub-Zero built-in fridge flanked a pot sink. The décor was turn of the twentieth century with black and white subway tiles for a backsplash. White painted cabinets reached up to the ten-foot ceilings. Twin islands faced each other. They had butcher-block countertops with an inset vegetable sink and a portion of marble for rolling out pastry dough. The entire room spoke of a love for cooking.

Angela, the chef and homeowner, waited for us in the kitchen. “Laura, this is Angela Hart. Angela, this is Laura, our prospective proposer.”

“Hi, Laura,” Angela said. I met Angela when I did an event for my old employer. The employer who let me go due to budget cuts. I had no regrets about my old job. The best thing I got out of that job was my connection to great people like Angela, who ran her own small business. She was a middle-aged woman about five feet tall and nearly as big around. Today she wore a chef's jacket and black pants. Her gray hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense bun and she wore little makeup. She didn't need to, as her skin was porcelain and her cornflower blue eyes twinkled.

“This place is fantastic,” Laura said.

“Thank you,” Angela said.

“I thought we'd keep it intimate,” I explained. “Angela worked up a nice menu in honor of your Kung Pao chicken.”

Laura laughed. “I hope you're prepared for mistakes.”

Angela smiled. “I'm always prepared.”

“Angela suggested that we have four other couples for the class to fill the kitchen and make it feel like a real event. As I mentioned, I picked out four couples that will be in on the event, including my clients Brad and Jennifer. Everyone will be in on the proposal and will have strict instructions on how to act. I promise no one will give away your surprise. Now, the dining room on the left will be decorated to match your apartment where you first started dating.”

“Oh, my gosh, mismatched blue plates and white cups?”

“Exactly,” I said. “I have a friend who works for a prop house. I forwarded him the pictures you sent me. We'll be able to re-create the setting down to the decorations on the fireplace.”

“Wow,” Laura said. “That's awesome.”

“I've got a copy of the playlist of your favorite songs. We'll have music on in the background. Once dinner is made, we'll all gravitate to the dining area. When Monica's favorite song comes on, you'll propose. Meanwhile, your friends and family will be waiting in the other dining room.” I pointed toward the second dining room across the foyer. “When Monica says yes, we'll open the doors and your family and friends will be there.”

“I've got a matching dinner menu for the engagement party,” Angela said. “We'll cater it completely. So there's no need to fear that you are cooking for it.”

“Sounds perfect,” Laura said, with tears in her eyes. “I'm starting to get excited.”

“So am I,” I said.

We went over a few of the details and Angela had a tiny tasting menu prepared so that Laura could decide on the dishes and desserts for the family. Laura and I sat at a small table in the parlor with a cup of peppermint tea to finish off the tasting. “So, are you happy with the plans?” I asked.

Laura's face lit up. “I think it's going to be perfect. Just as I asked, intimate and yet reminiscent of our first meeting.”

“Good, I'm glad. So we're all set. Are you ready for your big day?”

“I'm ready,” Laura said with a happy smile. “Everything is going to be perfect.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

My cell phone rang as I left the Victorian house and headed toward where my car was parked on the street. It was Clark's mother. “Hello?”

“Hello, Pepper, this is Mrs. Fulcrum.”

“Hello again, Mrs. Fulcrum. What can I do for you?”

“Mrs. Thomson and I want to get the ball rolling on the engagement. It seems so silly that the kids should have to wait. We were thinking it could be done tomorrow.”

“I'm sorry?” I said as I unlocked Old Blue and climbed inside. “Tomorrow? That's rushing things, isn't it? I mean, it takes time to plan out a big fancy proposal. I need to have a venue and props and such. I haven't had time to really talk to Clark and Samantha Lyn about their relationship.”

“Please,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “What's there to talk
about? They are two young people completely in love. I'm sure you do these romantic things all the time.”

“Yes, but you asked for sparkle and glitz and video recordings. That is not something I can just do in twenty-four hours.”

“I'm sure you can if we pay you enough.” Mrs. Fulcrum's tone was no-nonsense. “I've already got a wedding planner hired and she tells me she can pull off the wedding of the century in thirty days. If she can do that, you can pull off a proposal in twenty-four hours.”

“The kids are so young, why the rush? We should let them savor this time in their lives,” I said. “What is the name of the wedding planner? Because I'm not sure you got a good one if she thinks she can do all that in one month.”

“Oh, please, we all know money talks, now. I'm giving you free rein. In fact, money is no object. I expect you can pull something off quickly.”

I scratched my head. “It's just that Samantha Lyn seems kind of upset over the death of Ashley. Can you give me a couple of days? To make it special?”

“Oh, please! Samantha Lyn barely knew the girl.”

“Did you know her, Mrs. Fulcrum? Because it sounds to me like you did.”

“It sounds to me like you are obsessed with a drug addict. Listen, Clark is going to marry Samantha Lyn in thirty days. Either you can do the proposal or I'll find someone else to do it. You have until the end of next week.” She hung up the phone.

I stared at my phone, not sure at all what the right thing
to do was. If I went through and planned this thing, then Perfect Proposals stood to earn a lot of money. If I held my moral ground and refused, Mrs. Fulcrum would just find someone else to take her money. I sighed long and hard.

Maybe I could convince Samantha Lyn to say no. I dialed the girl's cell.

“Hey, Pepper, what's up?” Samantha answered her phone. It was clear she had marked my number in her contacts.

“Hi, Samantha,” I said. “Mrs. Fulcrum just called and she wants me to move forward with the proposal planning. Before I do that, I need to check that you are okay with this. I mean, you mentioned that you told Ashley you wanted to break up with Clark. I can't in good conscience plan a proposal event if you don't want to marry the boy.”

She paused for two heartbeats. “It's okay, Pepper,” she said. “I want to marry Clark.”

“Really?” I tried not to wince. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sure, I'm sure,” she said. “I talked to the moms and it really is for the best. They aren't going to stop until we're married.” I could hear the defeat in her voice. “Whatever our moms want. It will be the next great adventure.”

“Listen,” I said. “Do you know anyone who takes Xanax?”

“Sure,” Samantha Lyn said. “Clark takes it. Both our moms take it. Heck, half the people I know from college take it. It helps with all the stress they're under to get good grades and get good jobs.”

“Huh,” I said. “Then you know you shouldn't mix the drug with alcohol.”

“Yeah, I tell Clark that all the time. He just rolls his eyes at me.”

“You are a good and caring person, Samantha Lyn.”

“Thanks,” she said. “It's nice to hear that someone thinks so. Listen, I have to go. I'm sure whatever you come up with for our proposal will be wonderful. If I were you, I'd spend whatever money my mother and Clark's mother are offering. I'd rather you get it than some lame event planner I don't even know.”

“Thanks, Samantha,” I said. “I'll try to make it beautiful.”

“You're the best. Bye, Pepper.”

She hung up and I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. I would have to come up with a proposal event that would please the mothers and perhaps remind them of just how young Samantha and Clark really were.

*   *   *

Next up was a meeting with Brad. He asked that I stop by his office to discuss how the plans were going for his proposal. I took the Metra train downtown and walked the short distance to his office building. Brad worked near the lakeshore just off Michigan Avenue. It was a swanky forty-floor building. I entered and pulled off my hat, letting the fresh snow that covered me shake off onto the floor.

“Can I help you?” the security guard said from behind the big desk.

“Hi, yes, I'm Pepper Pomeroy. I'm here to see Brad Hurst.”

The security guard was older with a bald head that he shaved to disguise his halo. His neck was as thick as his head on wide shoulders. I had a feeling he'd been a Marine in his early life. He filled out his white security shirt and dark blue pants in a very muscular way. He looked over his list. “Yes, I have you here.” He reached up and pushed a clipboard to me. “Sign in.”

I signed my name and the time.

“Wear this badge,” he said, and pushed a yellow visitor badge toward me. “Take the elevators on the right. It's the thirty-second floor, office 3210.”

“Thanks,” I said, and picked up the badge. I dutifully pinned it on the lapel of my navy wool coat. I always dressed business casual when I was working, even if I did most of my work from home. It helped me to feel professional. Today I wore black wool slacks and a cream pullover sweater. The cream looked nice against my pale skin. I had my red hair pulled back into a sleek low ponytail. I got into the elevator with two other people, both of whom had employee badges on. As I waited for my floor, I took the time to remove my black leather gloves and stuffed them into my hat. I was the first off. The thirty-second floor had a cool carpeted hallway filled with tall cherry wood doors. A quick look at the room numbers and I found Brad's door.

I walked in and there was a receptionist at the desk that separated the small entryway from the wall of windows behind her. “Hi,” I said. “Pepper Pomeroy to see Brad Hurst.”

“Sure, I'll let him know you're here,” the receptionist
said. She was a beautiful brunette in a bodycon bandage dress that flattered her figure. I resisted the urge to compare myself to her. I was very thankful that Gage didn't have a woman as beautiful as her working in his office.

“Thanks,” I said, and sent her a small smile. There was a giant canvas of modern art across from her desk. It had bold stripes of red and blue with splatters of orange, not something I would want to have to stare at day in and day out.

“Pepper!” Brad said as he came around from behind the receptionist. “Thanks for coming all this way. Jeanette, Pepper is the event planner who is going to ensure that Jen is surprised when I propose to her.”

“Good luck!” the receptionist said breezily.

“I see she's met Jen,” I said as Brad gently guided me toward his office.

“I'm dying to know how you're going to surprise Jen,” Brad said as he ushered me into his office. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I'm good,” I said as I unbuttoned my coat and sat down. “Nice view.”

The wall behind Brad's desk was floor-to-ceiling glass and looked out over the marina and Lake Michigan. You could see the gray clouds swirling and the snow falling like heavy rain.

“Yes,” he agreed. “The funny thing is, you get used to it and barely see it some days.” He sat down. “So tell me, how's the planning going?”

“Good,” I said. “You didn't tell Jen we were meeting, did you?”

He flushed bright red. “Yeah, I did. She hates secrets.”

“Oh, right,” I said. It was a good thing then that I had decided not to share with Brad the details of my plan to surprise Jen. I had the sneaking suspicion he'd run and tell her right away. “Remember how I decided to have Jen and you join me on a few of my proposals to critique them and give me a feel for what she likes and doesn't like?”

“I remember.”

“And I mentioned that the first one is Saturday morning at F.A.O. Schwarz in Macy's?”

“Yes, I have that on my calendar.”

“Good. The next one is Sunday night. It's a low-key proposal and I'm setting it up at a cooking class because the couple met when Laura knocked on Monica's door to borrow a cup of sugar.”

“Oh, nice . . .” He paused. “Two women?”

“Yes,” I said. “I thought you and Jen could come and be part of the cooking class. It will help the surprise to have strangers in the class. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged in his light blue shirt, shifting. Brad's hair was in a perfect preppy cut. His light blue shirt contrasted perfectly with his maroon and blue striped tie. I noted he had a suitcoat that matched his slacks hanging from the back of his office chair.

“Great, this way I can populate the class with people who are in on the proposal but still strangers to Laura and Monica. It will help Monica be surprised. We will be making vegetable egg rolls, Kung Pao chicken, and chocolate mochi for desert. Once everything is cooked and plated,
we'll adjourn to the dining area to eat. That's when background music will start to play Laura and Monica's song. Laura will pull out the ring and get down on one knee and propose.”

“In a room full of strangers?” he asked.

“It's not any different than a flash mob proposal. You know, where a group of people suddenly show up on the street and all dance to the same song?”

“I know what a flash mob is,” he said, and nodded. “I tried that, by the way. Jen shook her head, laughed and said she saw it coming a mile away. I mean, how often did we walk through Grant Park with a bunch of strangers flocking toward us.”

“Using a flash mob has been overdone,” I agreed. “I'll think of something else.”

“Jen wanted to be here today, but she had an appointment,” he said. “I think she'll agree with you, though, that flash mobs have been overdone.”

“How does she expect to be surprised if she is in on every meeting we have?” I asked him, and tried not to sigh.

He grinned. “I know she seems controlling.”

“Do you think?” I asked, and we both laughed.

“If you think she's controlling, you should meet her parents,” he said, and shook his head. “Don't get me wrong, they're great, but they are super protective. It took me years to get them to understand that I wasn't going anywhere. I had to really prove my commitment.”

It dawned on me then. “That's why you keep trying to propose.”

“Yes,” he said, and smiled. “I haven't given up trying yet and Jen tells her parents everything. They have to know I'm committed to her.”

“Do you have the ring?” I asked.

“Yes, I brought it like you asked.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a teal blue Tiffany box. “It's one of a kind.” Brad opened the box and drew out a smaller ring box and handed it to me.

I opened it to see a blue sapphire in a princess cut flanked by one-carat diamonds in baguette style set in platinum. “It's gorgeous.”

“Thanks, I saved for six months to buy it.”

“I didn't expect the sapphire,” I said.

“Blue is Jen's favorite color. She already told you she likes lots of bling.”

“You tried a flash mob in Grant Park?”

“And ice skating near the bean sculpture. She loves snow and I thought it would be like that movie
Serendipity
. I suspect that she has a thing for the actor John Cusack.”

I smiled. “Are you going to walk around with the ring in your pocket until I give you the go sign to propose?”

He laughed. “That would be dangerous,” he said. “It's a $100,000 ring.”

“Oh.” I think my face blanched a bit and my hand shook. My reaction caused him to laugh harder.

“It's insured,” he said. “So, how about you keep it and surprise me. When you give it to me, I'll know it's time to propose.”

“You trust me with this ring?”

“You're bonded and insured, right?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. With a ring this big I figured I'd better call my insurance guy and add more coverage. I wasn't going to tell Brad that.

“Then you keep the ring. When the moment is right for me to propose, hand it to me. I'll drop down on my knee and pop the question.”