Bless the Bride Read Free

feeling guilty.
    Daniel’s mother looked up as I came up the steps onto the porch. “Good news, I hope?”
    “Delightful news, thank you. My friends in the city have planned a pre-wedding celebration for me, to take place next weekend. So I do hope you’ll forgive me if I go back to the city for a few days. I fear I’m more of a hindrance than a help to you in the sewing anyway.”
    I thought she looked relieved if anything, but she said stiffly, “This celebration requires you to be away for more than one day, does it?”
    “I know these friends,” I said. “Their parties are always elaborate costume affairs, so I’ll need to assemble a suitable costume somehow.”
    “A costume affair—that seems an odd sort of wedding party to me.”
    “It is Greenwich Village,” I reminded her. “And many of our acquaintances are artists and writers. They enjoy being creative in their celebrations.”
    She went back to her sewing, one neat little stitch after the next.
    “With your sewing skills, let’s just hope that it’s a Roman toga,” she said at last.
    I laughed dutifully, although I couldn’t tell whether she intended to make a joke.
    “I’ll be back in good time to help you with the wedding preparations and to do the final fittings on my dress,” I said.
    “And I take it you’ll be staying for our luncheon with the Misses Tompkins and croquet with Clara Bertram today?”
    “Of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t dream of missing out on luncheon with the Misses Tompkins.”
    And this time she looked at me to try and guess whether I was joking.

Two
     
     
     
    As the train gathered speed through the woods of Westchester County, heading south, I felt as if I had been released from a straitjacket (and trust me, I had been in one of those once—not an experience I wished to repeat in a hurry). I found I was smiling at my reflection in the window glass. I was going to be married soon, going to be a bride, and I was finally looking forward to my wedding. It was true, as Mrs. Sullivan had reminded me, that I had precious few guests of my own, but that didn’t matter. Those few who were coming were dear to me: old Miss Van Woekem, for whom I had once worked. Mrs. Goodwin the female police detective and her young protégée I had rescued. Gus and Sid, of course. I had put my foot down at that. No Gus and Sid, no wedding. But I felt a wave of sadness that I hadn’t heard from Seamus and his little family. There had been a time when they had been big part of my life, but I had had only sporadic contact with them after they moved out to Connecticut for Bridie’s health. She would have made such a perfect flower girl, I thought wistfully. Better than the Van Kempers’ granddaughter any day. And I smiled to myself, again.
    I can’t tell you how good it felt as the train rolled across the bridge over the Harlem River and into the upper reaches of New York City. No more luncheons and croquet parties at which I had to watch my words, mind my manners, and put up with what I took to be veiled barbs. Maybe I was being oversensitive, but then, maybe not. And anyone who knows me can tell you that I’m certainly not used to being the demure miss. It had been taxing. And now I was about to be back among my friends with the added prospect of a lucrative assignment. And I might even have a chance to see Daniel—a jarring thought came to me. Daniel would not be pleased that I’d deserted his mother. And of course he couldn’t know if I took on that case. So a brilliant plan came to me. It probably wouldn’t be wise to stay in my own house if it was newly painted and plastered. Besides, it would hardly be fair if I occupied it alone before my wedding. Sid and Gus’s guest room would be a much better idea, I thought to myself as the train went into the tunnel before arriving at Grand Central Depot.
    Before I went to Westchester County the city had seemed unbearably hot and stifling and I had longed to escape to the