Spike Read Free Page B

bythe altar. I was halfway through the door when Tempe caught me by the hand.
    She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Nice work, Tory. You saved the day.”
    “Just glad it worked out.” But I felt a warm flush of pride.
Booyah
.
    As I stepped from the ballroom, the frantic bridesmaid spotted me and practically ran in my direction. I plastered on a smile. The day was saved. Whitney would understand. But as I was being literally yanked toward the building—and scolded by a complete stranger for good measure—an unsettling thought occurred to me.
    All those centerpieces destroyed, because of an incredibly stupid blunder.
    But what if it wasn’t a mistake?
    What if the flowers had been murdered?

I put one foot in front of the other.
    Slowly. Stately.
    Wobbly.
    I’m not an ace in heels.
    Whitney’s train slid down the aisle before me, a tidal wave of white silk whispering along the red carpet. Though maid of honor, I was to follow directly behind her as she entered, a dictate of DuBois family tradition. No doubt a relic of their cherished debutante past, allowing the bride-to-be a final, glorious one-upping of her sister or closest friend.
    Do
n’t be ugly
.
Whitney
means well. Mostly.
    Step. Pause. Step. My floor-length dress made each stride a challenge, but I was determined not to pull a Jennifer Lawrence. When
she
trips in front of everyone, it’s adorable. I’d look like a circus clown.
    My hastily assembled crisis team had scrambled back into their respective positions. Problem solved, but I still couldn’t understand how such a ridiculous mistake could occur. Those florists were in for some sharp words. I’d make sure Kit demanded a refund.
    Beyond Whitney, I could see Kit grinning like a dope as he stoodbefore the raised wooden altar. The priest, Dr. Allen, was on his left. Whitney’s younger brother Eric, in from Chicago, stood to his right. Whitney had suggested that Eric be Kit’s best man. Kit being Kit, he’d agreed without complaint.
    My God, it
’s really happening.
    At the end of this walk, that ditzy woman would become my stepmother.
    Blargh.
    I squeezed my lids shut. Snapped them open. Glancing around for a distraction, I spotted my friends’ parents in a row to my right. Tom Blue looked sweaty in his ill-fitting rented tuxedo, but he smiled and nodded as I paced by. We’d gotten to know each other on a personal level in the months that Ben and I had been dating. A well-read man, he was thoughtful and polite, prone to quoting famous literature when making a point. Ben’s ears burned every time it happened, but I was a fan. I love it when life—when
people
—surprise me.
    Unless they’re t
rying to kill me, of
course.
    But I was all done with that.
    Ben’s mother, Myra, sat next to Tom, in a lovely cinnamon dress that matched her eyes. I’d never sensed any bad blood between the elder Blues—honestly, I wasn’t even sure they were officially divorced. That topic I studiously avoided. Ben would say more when he was ready. It wasn’t my place to pry.
    Beyond Myra sat Shelton’s parents, Nelson and Lorelei Devers, holding hands, eyes glued to each other. Shelton said they
loved
weddings. Watching them now, I guessed they liked to relive their own. Farther down the row, Linus Stolowitski was patting the shoulder of his wife, Ruth, who’d buried her nose in a handkerchief. Linus gave me an apologetic shrug, but I smiled. Ruth’s an emotional lady, no question. Ask Hi anytime he gets on her bad side.
    Another pace forward. The next row held less pleasant guests.
    Dr. Mike Iglehart sat in the closest chair. He dodged my glance as if burned by it, and well he should. Chance had divulged that Iglehart had been his secret spy at LIRI, but I’d decided to keep the information to myself. Kit liked to think the best of everyone at the institute, and the Iglehart problem was fully neutralized. No need to shatter my father’s illusions.
    Still. What a jerk.
    The rest of the row was filled with