The Truffle with Weddings Read online

  The Truffle with Weddings

  Annabelle Archer Wedding Planner Mystery #12

  Laura Durham

  Broadmoor Books

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Recipe

  Also by Laura Durham

  Leave A Review

  Free Download

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  “That's the last of it, Annabelle," my assistant Kate said as she carried a cardboard box into my apartment and dropped it on the floor with a thud. "I'm just sad we have to carry it all back down again in a few days."

  "It may only be candy, but I still don't think it’s safe to leave it in your car until the wedding on Saturday." I eyed the collection of white cardboard boxes now scattered around my living room floor and rubbed my arms for warmth after carrying boxes in from outside.

  She sank onto my yellow overstuffed couch and relaxed her head so her blond bob draped over the back. "It's not like it was going to melt. First of all, it's February and it's below freezing out there, and secondly, it's all hard candies." She pulled her head up and grinned. "Wait a second. Did we order gummies for them?"

  "If gummies come in all red or all pink, then we ordered them." It wasn't long ago that I'd placed the order for about twenty different varieties of pink and red candies to be displayed on our client's "candy bar"--everything from Twizzlers to giant baby-pink gumballs to Red Hots to strawberry-flavored rock candy.

  As the owner of Wedding Belles, one of Washington, DC's top wedding planning companies, I'd put together my fair share of candy displays. Despite being a fad that had come into fashion years ago, brides and grooms still loved having a table covered with giant glass apothecary jars filled with candies for guests to scoop into bags and take home as favors--even if Kate and I had grown weary of it. The only upside, as Kate saw it, was when the clients stocked their display with gummy bears, which were her go-to wedding day snack, and the thing that gave both of us the needed sugar boost to make it through the reception.

  She sat forward and began nudging the boxes with the toe of her black high-heeled boot, squinting at the labels on the side. "Please tell me they got the Haribo Happy Cherries."

  I sighed as I headed for the kitchen and the cup of coffee I'd abandoned when Kate arrived. "Somehow I don't think cherries scream ‘love’ enough for Amelia."

  "I'm going to scream something before this wedding is over, and it's not going to be about love," Kate grumbled. "I mean, I get it. Valentine's-themed wedding the day before February 14th. You don't pick that date unless you're either obsessed with the holiday or enjoy paying twice as much for your flowers. Do I smell coffee?"

  I peered over the open divider between my living room and galley kitchen, took a sip of my now lukewarm mocha-flavored coffee, and filled a mug for Kate from my French press. "I thought Valentine's Day was your holiday. Isn't Cupid your patron saint?"

  Kate laughed. "Far from it. Cupid's known for his arrow hitting the mark. I, for one, am too young to settle down with just one guy. Not that it isn't great for some people."

  I walked back into the living room and handed her a steaming mug of coffee. "Subtle. Real subtle." I knew she meant me and my boyfriend, Detective Mike Reese. He'd moved in a couple of months earlier, and I was still adjusting to the fact that I had a serious boyfriend and one that never left. "I thought you liked Reese."

  Kate sipped her coffee, her hands wrapped around the sides of the mug for warmth. "I do. He's great." She glanced around the room, her eyes catching on one of his blazers slung across a dining room chair and a Sports Illustrated open on the glass-topped coffee table. "I don't know if I'd be able to narrow my field down to one."

  Kate had always enjoyed an active social life, and I'd long since given up trying to keep track of the men she dated. I took the upholstered chair across from her, tucking my feet up under me. "How large of a field are we talking?"

  She wagged an eyebrow at me. "So far I have three dates for Valentine's Day."

  I almost choked on my coffee. "Three? On one day?"

  "Don't look at me like that." She sat forward and put her mug down. "It may have gotten a little out of hand, but Fern's promised to help me manage it."

  "How reassuring," I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. Fern was our friend and go-to hairdresser who dolled-up all of our brides on their wedding days. He was known for precision cuts, meticulously themed outfits, and statement jewelry. He was not known for lowering the stress level of any situation, so I couldn't imagine how he would make juggling three dates anything less than a circus.

  "I just hope I have the energy for three dates in a row after our wedding. What time do we end again on Saturday?"

  "Midnight," I said. "The usual. Unless the bride decides to extend."

  Kate held her fingers up to make air quotes. "I'm sure she will, because everything will be 'Ah-mazing.'"

  We'd dubbed our Valentine's Day bride 'Ah-mazing Ah-melia' because she declared everything to be amazing and spoke like an Instagram caption complete with hashtags.

  "Enough about my Valentine's plans," Kate said. "What do you and hottie cop have on the books for your first official V-D?"

  Leave it to Kate to make the Hallmark holiday sound like something salacious. I felt my cheeks warm and brought my mug to my lips to cover them. "We haven't talked about it. I'm sure we'll do something low-key here."

  Kate's eyes opened wide. "Are you telling me you haven't gotten anything for him yet? No card? No tasteful lingerie? No edible underwear?" She tapped her wrist even though she wore no watch. "Ticktock, Annabelle. It's already Tuesday. Less than a week to go. You don't want to be stuck digging through the dregs of the kinky underwear bin."

  "What? No, of course not. What kinky underwear bin?" I held up a palm. "Never mind. I don't want to know." I instinctively looked toward the door, glad no one could hear through the thick walls of my old apartment building. "Do I need to remind you that Valentine's Day is about love and romance?"

  "I wish you did. I feel like I've had about as much Valentine's Day romance as I can handle by planning Ah-melia's wedding. It's been nine months of tracking down cupid wings for flower girls and doves that can fly in heart-shaped formations. I am over it."

  I knew what she meant. The bride had gone all-in on her theme, and I was feeling the Saint Valentine saturation myself. Maybe that was why I'd been putting off discussing plans with Reese. It felt strange to talk about romance when I planned it for a living. Of course, that didn't explain why he hadn't mentioned anything. I hoped he wasn't one of those men who refused to celebrate the holiday on the principle that it was a made-up day to sell cards and candy.

  "Only a few more days," I said, holding up my mug in salute, "and we won't have to see anything red or heart shaped for a while."

  Before I could take a dr
ink, my door flew open and Richard staggered in holding two large white shopping bags. As he set the bags on the floor, a red heart-shaped box tumbled out of one and onto the rug covering my hardwoods.

  "Et tu, Brutus?" I asked as my best friend and arguably the city's best caterer, Richard Gerard, unwound the gray cashmere scarf from his neck to reveal a pristine three-button suit in the same shade of gray with a pale-pink shirt and a gray tie.

  "Are you two still sitting around gabbing?" He shook his head. "Some of us have been out making deliveries since nine o'clock."

  Kate peered at the clock on my wall. "It's only ten, and since when do you make deliveries?”

  I angled my head at him. "Kate's right. Don’t you have a terrified and beleaguered staff who do that for you?"

  Richard narrowed his eyes at both of us as he bent to pick up the box. "I make deliveries when I'm going for the personal touch. You know I need to drum up more business after I was blackballed from the list."

  The list Richard referred to was the "Best Of" list that came out in Capital Weddings magazine's January issue. Richard Gerard Catering had been on the list every year and had often received the "top vote getter" star beside its name, but this year he had been left off completely. Richard had not taken it well.

  Kate leaned over to get a better look at the box in his hands. "So you're giving Valentine's Day bribes?"

  "Gifts," he said, smoothing the tag attached to the box. "A custom selection of gourmet chocolates from Fleurir."

  "How many of those do you have in there?" Kate asked.

  Richard touched a hand to his dark choppy hair. "Enough for every event venue in the city." His eyes darted to me. "And Annabelle convinced me to add one for the editor at Capital Weddings. I delivered that one yesterday."

  I stood up with my mug and headed for the kitchen, squeezing his arm as I passed him. "I told you the editor was nice. Did you get to see Marcie when you dropped it off?"

  Richard nodded. "For a moment, and she was perfectly polite. At least that horrible Marcus wasn't anywhere in sight."

  Richard had once fired Marcus, who had then gone on to work at Capital Weddings. Richard suspected Marcus was behind him being removed from the "Best Of" list as an act of revenge.

  "I'll bet she fired him," Kate said. "She didn’t seem happy with him the last time we were there."

  "She probably wasn't happy in general because we made such a scene," I called over my shoulder as I set my mug in the kitchen sink. Actually, Richard had been the one to make the scene, but I didn't want to call him out on it.

  "Well, you can ask her when you see her at Love Brunch today," Richard said. "She mentioned yesterday she was attending. And you know who else I saw when I was at her offices? Brianna from Brides by Brianna." He wrinkled his nose. "Probably trying to toady up and get on the list. Tragic really."

  I didn't point out he was doing the exact thing, as I knew he would not appreciate being compared to one of the newbie planners he considered a ditzy upstart. I peeked my head through the open space between the kitchen and living room. "Don't you mean Love Lunch?"

  "Nope." Richard pulled back the French cuffs of his shirt to reveal his ever-present Cartier watch. "This year it's a brunch. It starts in an hour."

  "What?" I rushed out of the kitchen. "Why didn't you say something earlier when you noticed me wearing leggings and a ratty sweater?"

  Richard blinked and gave me the once-over. "I thought it was one of those shapeless sweater dress creations you tend to favor, darling."

  I groaned and took off for my bedroom.

  "Don't forget the color we're all supposed to wear this year is pink," Kate yelled.

  This holiday was going to be the death of me.

  2

  Kate swung her car into the circular driveway in front of The Hay-Adams hotel, the vehicle jolting as she threw it into park when we reached the stone-columned portico. "Voila, and in record time too."

  I shot a look over my shoulder to make sure I didn't see blue lights flashing. "And you only broke about a dozen traffic laws doing it."

  "You know what they say." Kate winked at me. "The ends justify the memes."

  "No one says that," I muttered to nobody but myself.

  She stepped out of the car and handed her keys to the attendant, hooking her pink Kate Spade purse over her arm and walking around to meet me. "I have to tell you, Annabelle. I'm surprised by your outfit."

  "Really?" I unbuttoned my coat so I could tug the hemline of my sweater dress down and wished the dress code for the event was any color other than pink. The only pink item that had also happened to be clean in my closet was a hot-pink sweater dress I'd accidentally sent through the wash, making it too tight and too short. The black boots I'd paired it with only covered my calves, leaving a significant amount of exposed leg--something I was used to seeing on Kate, not myself. I sucked in my stomach and wished the angora had more give. I felt like an itchy stuffed sausage.

  "I'm surprised I like it," she said as we walked through the heavy wooden front doors held open by two attendants in black wool coats adorned with brass buttons and stripes on the cuffs. "You don't usually wear outfits that say 'look at me.’”

  "I think this outfit is screaming 'save me.’” I hurried across the small lobby, not letting my eyes get drawn up to the high ceilings with ornate detailing or the rich wood-paneled walls. I registered the massive arrangement of white lilies and hydrangea on the table in front of the elevator bank and wondered if our florist friends Buster and Mack had designed it.

  Even though I could smell the lingering scent of coffee from the first-floor restaurant, I ignored the short staircase leading up to it and darted down the alcove that held the express elevator. I pressed the call button and waited for Kate to catch up.

  "I thought that was you scooting through the lobby, but I saw a flash of pink and thought it couldn't be Annabelle Archer," Fern said as he poked his head around the corner, his dark hair pulled up into a neat man bun. "But there you are. In pink."

  "Don't you like it?" Kate asked as she linked her arm with his, and the two joined me in front of the elevator.

  "It's so sassy. Are you sure it's not Kate's?"

  "I wish," Kate and I said at the same time.

  Fern giggled and smoothed the front of the baby-pink jacket that fit snugly across his chest and hugged his hips. A pink pocket square dotted with red hearts was perfectly folded into his lapel and matched the ascot billowing around his neck. An enormous garnet pin sparkled at his throat. Our friend and wedding hair guru took the concept of dressing for the occasion to the next level, and I felt relieved he wasn't wearing a pair of cupid wings attached to his jacket.

  The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the rooftop. "It's always great to see you, but I thought this party was only for wedding planners."

  Fern motioned to the small black-wheeled suitcase he pulled behind him. "The hotel catering execs wanted me to doll them up for the party. It's their big event of the year, you know."

  That made sense. The Hay-Adams Valentine's Day party, or Love Brunch, was one of the must-attend events of the year. Guests had been known to buy special outfits, get blowouts, and have their makeup professionally done. Of course, I'd done none of these things. I tried not to think about the outfit I'd thrown on or the fact that I'd swiped on little more than blush and mascara before running out the door.

  "Have you seen Buster and Mack?" I asked as the doors pinged open. "They were supposed to be doing all the decor."

  "Is this your answer?" Kate asked as we stepped out of the elevator and into what appeared to be a forest complete with grass under our feet. Ceiling-high trees flanked the elevator with strands of pink orchids draped from the branches to the floor.

  "Welcome to Love Brunch," a brunette with a breathy voice said, pushing aside the curtain of orchids with one hand and pointing down the wooded hall with the other. "The Queen of Hearts invites you to join her for cocktails."
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  "I think this is a take on Alice in Wonderland," I whispered to Kate and Fern as I pulled the heels of my boots out of the grass and followed the woman's direction. "That explains why Buster was talking about making giant toadstools."

  We walked through the doorway, and I paused to take it all in. The walls had been draped in pink, and life-size playing cards adorned with red hearts were suspended from the ceiling. Several women dressed in red-and-black Queen of Hearts costumes strolled through the crowd, holding trays of cocktails. One of them paused and held out her tray to us.

  "Isn't this darling?" Fern said as he took one of the pink-filled goblets with a tag around the stem that read, “Drink Me.”

  I took a glass and eyed the contents. "As long as it doesn't shrink my dress."

  "I wouldn't mind a drink that shrinks me," Fern said, patting a hand to his flat stomach. "Too many temptations on Valentine's Day."

  Kate leaned close to me. "Who do we like in this crowd?"

  Fern took a sip of his cocktail and nodded his head toward a middle-aged buxom blonde. "Bambie Sitwell nabbed herself another rich husband, so don't get too attached to this face. She'll probably look different the next time we see her."

  Kate shook her head. "You really think Boob Job Bambie will get more plastic surgery?"

  Fern nudged us. "She's coming this way, and I can't tell if she's surprised to see us or if it's the eye lift."

  "Annabelle! Kate!" She gave us air kisses when she reached us, then gave one to Fern. "Fernando!"