The Truffle with Weddings Page 2

  I knew Fern hated to be called by his given name--a by-product of his mother being an Abba fan--so I didn't need to look at his face to know he wasn't happy. Before he could make a snippy comment back, I put a hand on Bambie's arm. "Isn't this decor spectacular? You know Buster and Mack from Lush did all of this."

  She nodded and attempted to smile, which made her look a little like the Joker from Batman. "I was just telling them how much I love the grass carpeting."

  "Where are the dears?" Fern asked, craning his head around Bambie and scanning the mostly female and mostly pink crowd.

  "It shouldn't be too hard to find two three-hundred-pound men in black leather," Kate said, flicking her hair off her face with a pink lacquered fingernail.

  I spun around as I heard the sound of chains jingling over the conversation. One advantage of having friends who wore biker gear with lots of metal--it was easy to hear them approaching.

  Mack reached me first and pulled me into a bear hug, his dark red goatee brushing my forehead. His eyes looked bloodshot, although I wasn't sure if it was from the intense decor installation for the brunch, or because they were now pseudo parents to a baby girl. The other half of the floral design duo who had dubbed themselves the Mighty Morphin Flower Arrangers, Buster lumbered up behind Mack--his black riding goggles pushed onto the top of his bald head--and gave us a weak smile. The matching dark circles under his eyes told me that whatever the reason, my friends weren't getting much sleep.

  "You've outdone yourselves, boys," Fern said, waving a hand at the room and sloshing a bit of pink cocktail onto the grass carpet.

  Buster gave a half shrug. "You know we love working at The Hay. We wanted to do something special for their event of the season."

  I leaned close to Mack. "You look exhausted. Is it the party or the baby?"

  Mack raised a pierced eyebrow. "We're used to big events. We're not used to midnight feedings."

  I patted his thick forearm. "I thought things would be easier now that Merry and her mother live in the apartment over your shop."

  Buster shifted from one foot to the other, and his leather pants creaked. "Prue is finishing up high school. That was the deal with her getting the apartment. We're trying to make sure she gets enough sleep, so Mack and I take Merry some nights."

  Despite looking like Hell's Angels, my florist friends were softer than a pair of marshmallows. Mack pulled out his phone. "Do you want to see pictures?"

  Kate, Fern, and I crowded around Mack so we could "ooh" and "aah" over the latest images of the baby.

  "Not this again," Richard said with a sigh as he joined our group. "How is it that none of us are married, yet we're sharing baby photos?"

  I elbowed him. "Stop it. You know you love Merry."

  "I’ll love it when she's out of the spitting-up phase.” Richard brushed imaginary lint off his suit. “Babies and couture do not mix."

  "Ignore him," Kate said to Mack. "He felt the same way about dogs, and now he carries his Yorkie around in a pocketbook."

  Richard pursed his lips and glared at her. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. It's a man bag." His eyes slid to me and he blinked hard. "A sweater dress, darling? Really?"

  I felt a flush creeping up my neck as I tugged at the hem of the dress. "It was the only thing pink in my closet, and I'll be burning it the second I get home."

  "I'll spot you the matches," Richard muttered and turned to face the crowd. "Now, who do we love, and who are we trying to avoid?"

  Fern lowered his voice. "There's Marcie from Capital Weddings magazine."

  I followed his line of sight and spotted the tall woman with ebony hair standing next to one of the tree planters and inspecting the fluffy dried moss bunched around the base. "She's brave to make an appearance."

  "Why do you say that?" Buster asked.

  "This room is packed with people who either didn't make the “Best Of” list she curates and would sell their soul to get on, or people who made the list but are dying to get an "editor's pick" star by their name," I said. "Most of the magazine editors never come to events for that reason. It's a political minefield."

  "Everyone either wants to hug her or kill her," Richard said. "Not that I would do either, mind you."

  "Good," Kate let out a breath. "I, for one, would like to attend an event where someone doesn't leave in a body bag."

  "Where's the fun in that?" Fern asked, downing the last of his cocktail in one gulp.

  Kate clutched my arm. "Whatever you do, do not turn around."

  3

  I fought the urge to turn and see why Kate's eyes had gone so wide. "What? Who?" I gave an impatient sigh. "What are you talking about?"

  Kate's face relaxed. "False alarm. I thought it was Brianna." She scanned the crowd. "Blond blowouts are a big thing today."

  The owner of Brides by Brianna had hit the DC wedding scene a couple of years earlier with lots of her daddy's money, a Southern drawl that made her sound sweeter than she was, and almost no experience. Instead of making nice with us, she'd decided to spread rumors and try to tank our business. Since then, our encounters had not been pleasant.

  "Don't do that." Richard fanned himself with a pink cocktail napkin. "You nearly made me spill my drink."

  Fern's eyes twinkled as he smiled like the Cheshire Cat himself. "I'd love to see Brianna. The last time I saw her, she'd severely over plucked her eyebrows. I need to see if they grew back."

  "I'm sure she's here somewhere, but there's no need to get worked up," I said. "It's not like she's going to bite us."

  "She might pluck us," Fern said, giggling and putting a hand over his mouth.

  I didn't acknowledge his comment or Kate joining in on the giggling. "Now I'm going to go over and say hello to Marcie."

  Kate took a heart-shaped hors d'oeuvre off a passing tray and popped it into her mouth. "Right behind you, boss."

  "While you're doing that," Fern said, his eyes darting over the sea of heads, "I'm going to go talk to the planner who needs to do her roots."

  "I think that's a performer in a skunk costume," Kate told him, peering at his empty glass. "How many cocktails have you had?"

  "Why?" Fern blinked rapidly. "You don't think they have alcohol, do you? They taste like strawberry punch."

  Mack put a hand under Fern's arm. "Why don't we find him a nice toadstool to sit on?" He waved us away as he and Buster led Fern to a cluster of giant polka-dotted mushrooms. "We'll catch up to you later."

  "Come on." I tugged Richard's arm. "This is the perfect time to ingratiate yourself with Marcie.”

  Richard shook off my hand and smoothed the arm of his jacket where I'd grabbed it. "I thought that's what I did yesterday with the box of chocolates."

  I took a final sip of my berry-flavored cocktail and set the empty goblet down onto a table designed to look like a supersized teacup, then gave Richard a pointed look. "Do you want to get on the list again or not?"

  "I think I liked you better when you were young and clueless and looked to me for advice, darling," Richard said. "Since when did you become the expert in strategy and wedding industry politics?"

  "Right?" Kate leaned across me and gave Richard a knowing look. "I think you've created a monster."

  I linked my arms through Kate's and Richard's and propelled them forward with me, muttering apologies as we parted the crowd. I blew a few air kisses and gave a few finger waves as we passed people I knew, but I didn't stop until we'd reached Marcie.

  She smiled when she saw us and pulled her hand back from the trunk of one of the tall trees nestled in a massive terra-cotta planter. "I was seeing if the trees were real.” She motioned up at the leafy canopy touching the ceiling and dripping with strands of orchids. "How many hours do you think it took to string all these orchids?"

  "A lot," I said.

  Marcie nodded her head at wall-sized frames that held three-dimensional "portraits" of pastoral scenes complete with real flowers and models protruding from the painting.
"How did they get frames that large up here?"

  "Well, it is an Alice in Wonderland theme," Kate said, catching a waiter by the arm, snagging two cocktails from his tray, and handing one to the willowy magazine editor. "Maybe they shrunk them."

  Marcie laughed and shifted the large Tory Burch tote onto her shoulder as she took the cylindrical glass filled with bright-green liquid. "This is my first time at Love Brunch. I had no idea it was this elaborate."

  "Buster and Mack have taken it to the next level," I said, taking a glass from the waiter's tray as well. "This event used to be a simple affair, but they decided to splash it out and make it the event of the season."

  Marcie swept her eyes across the room, lingering on the far wall covered in gold-rimmed clock faces the size of hubcaps. "Mission accomplished."

  "Some people just can't resist the dramatic," Richard said.

  Bold words from a man who had a Burberry coat that matched his own for his dog.

  "Valentine's Day is a big deal for the wedding industry," I explained. "Kate and I are working on a wedding for this weekend that's completely themed around the holiday. It's pretty intense."

  "I think you mean crazy," Kate said in a mock whisper. "The flower girls actually have cupid wings."

  "You should submit it to the magazine," Marcie said. "We're always looking to feature weddings with a creative twist." Her eyes went to Richard. "Speaking of creative, those chocolates you gave me are so unique. I'd never heard of wasabi truffles before. Or strawberry ginger."

  Richard put a hand to his chest. "I wanted something memorable. Something that would remind people that Richard Gerard Catering is known for innovative cuisine." He gave his most simpering smile. "I hope you enjoyed them."

  Marcie nodded a little too quickly. "Oh, I did."

  A giant rabbit hopped by us ringing a silver bell and singing, "Don't be late for your very important brunch date."

  "I think that means we're supposed to be seated," I said, noticing people beginning to move toward the doors leading into the main room.

  We followed the flow and walked into the long rectangular ballroom overlooking the White House on one side. Aside from the wall of entirely glass-paned French doors, the room had been draped in sheer white fabric. A single long table extended from one end of the room to the other and was also draped in white gossamer with glossy black candlesticks and round arrangements of tightly packed white roses running down the middle. Long strips of black and white ribbons were suspended from the recessed ceiling over the table and nearly touched the floral arrangements.

  I started to search for the cards at the top of the place settings that would indicate who sat where, but then realized the names were written in swirling black letters on the backs of the Plexiglas ghost chairs around the table.

  "Here we are," Kate called from the other end of the table.

  I marveled that she'd managed to move so much faster than me, especially since her shoes were significantly higher than mine. Scooting around to join her, I greeted several of my friendly competitors and paid appropriate compliments to their pink outfits, including to one planner who wore a pink tutu topped with a sequined sweater. If I'd thought Buster and Mack's decor was over-the-top, it was only because I hadn't seen all the outfits.

  "It looks like someone knew what they were doing," Kate said when I'd reached her. "You and I are together and Richard is across from us. I don't think they put any of our frenemies near us."

  I gestured for her to keep her voice down. "We don't have any frenemies."

  "Okay, enemies then," Kate said. "It would be a long brunch if we had to sit next to Brianna."

  I looked over my shoulder, hoping the blond planner with her sickly sweet Southern accent wasn't in sight. "Do you see her?"

  "Luckily, no, although I do enjoy watching her turn purple every time she lays eyes on Fern."

  In response to Brianna's unkind comments about Wedding Belles, Fern had made sure everyone who passed through his society hair salon thought Brianna's business was a front for a high-priced call girl service. This hadn't been true, but Fern considered turnabout fair play. Even though she'd vehemently denied the rumors, Brianna had never been able to completely shake the whispers or the scandal, and she'd never forgiven Fern although she couldn't prove he'd been the one to start the rumors in the first place. She’d never forgiven us for being his friends, and as she rightfully suspected, the reason he'd gone after her.

  "I hope they're serving the oatmeal soufflé," I said as I pulled out my chair and took a seat next to Kate.

  Kate picked up the black-and-white menu card. "You're in luck. It's the first course." She patted her stomach. "I'm glad I didn't eat breakfast so I'll have room for all these carbs."

  Fern, looking very alert, sank into the chair next to me on the other side.

  "What happened to you?" I asked.

  "The boys just poured about a pot of coffee down my throat." He blinked hard as he looked around the room. "It seems to have worked. I don't see any giant toadstools or life-sized bunnies anymore."

  Before I could explain to him that we were in a different room, my attention was drawn to the tinkling of silverware against glass. The hotel's director of catering, a petite brunette with Fern's signature smoky eyes, stood at the head of the table, holding up a glass of champagne.

  "I'd like to welcome you all to the annual Love Brunch at the Top of the Hay." She beamed up and down the table. "Of course we couldn't do this event without the help of our incredible team. We’re so grateful to Buster and Mack from Lush for the spectacular decor." She paused to clap and everyone joined her.

  I craned my neck to look for the pair and spotted them at the other end of the table, smiling and looking embarrassed.

  "And a special thank you to Brianna from Brides by Brianna for designing the menu cards and signage for us," the woman continued, inclining her head to a spot halfway down the table and raising her glass.

  Kate and I both snapped our heads around and saw Brianna giving us what could only be described as an evil grin. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see feathers sticking out of the corner of her mouth. How had she managed to worm her way into Love Brunch? The event had never had a planner involved before since it was an event for planners, and I'd always assumed they didn't want to be perceived as playing favorites. I attempted to catch Richard's eye across the table, but he'd plastered on his fakest smile as the planner next to him said something.

  "Does she even do weddings here?" Kate whispered to me as everyone but the two of us and Fern drank sips of champagne in toast to Brianna.

  I shrugged. "Who knows? I didn't think so, but you know how good she is at networking."

  "If you can call giving out expensive gifts networking," Kate said, reaching for her champagne flute after the catering director sat down and the waiters had begun placing ramekins of oatmeal soufflé in front of guests. She swigged the entire glass and set it back down. "When are we going to give out designer clutches for holiday presents?"

  I picked up my spoon and dipped it into the caramel-brown soufflé topped with powdered sugar, feeling the steam rise up from the inside. "When we get adopted by someone absurdly wealthy, I suppose."

  "What I need to focus on is finding a rich sugar daddy." Kate waved her spoon at me. "That would solve all our problems."

  Fern leaned over me and nodded. "Now you're talking. Annabelle is a lost cause since she's gone and fallen for a civil servant. " He winked at me. "He's hot, I'll give you that, sweetie, but now it’s up to Kate to reel in a rich old man with a bad heart."

  "Would you still work for me if you had a sugar daddy?" I asked, pausing with my spoon halfway to my mouth.

  Kate squeezed my arm. "You know I would. I'd never want to miss all this fun."

  I took a bite of the soufflé and closed my eyes as the flavors of cinnamon and warm blueberries mingled on my tongue. All the comfort of oatmeal with the lightness of a soufflé and the sweetness of a dessert. The dish real
ly was heavenly.

  "Speaking of Mr. Hunky,” Fern nudged me and pointed to the door behind us, “did you tell him where you were going today?"

  I twisted my head to see Reese and his partner standing in the doorway and whispering to the catering captain as they all pored over a diagram. Tall and dark haired, my cop boyfriend had muscles evident even in a blazer that was too boxy. I felt a flutter of butterflies in my stomach when I spotted him, especially since I knew how good he looked when he wasn't wearing a shapeless blazer and work pants. But what was he doing here? I knew he was working, and as much as I liked spending time with him, I sincerely hoped he wasn't here to see me.

  Any suspicion of that was eliminated when he crossed the room and leaned over to Marcie.

  "Is that Reese?" Kate asked me, her eyes going up and down the table. "What's he doing here? Did someone drop dead and I missed it?"

  Marcie clamped her hand over her mouth and stood up so quickly her chair flew behind her and hit one of the French doors with a clatter. "I can't believe it. That's not possible."

  Murmurs passed through the room, and I heard the words "dead" and "poison."

  "If you'll just come with us and answer a few questions.” Reese tried to take her elbow and she shook him off.

  "That's what I'm trying to tell you," Marcie said, her voice shrill. "The chocolates didn't come from me." She extended a finger in front of her. "They were from him."

  Every head in the room swiveled to stare at Richard, whose mouth fell open as he dropped a spoonful of soufflé that splattered onto the table and sent droplets of oatmeal into his hair.

  Marcie collapsed onto the floor with a sob. "He killed Marcus."

  4

  "She threw me under the bus," Richard said as he wrung his hands and paced a small circle around a giant teacup. "How could she say I killed Marcus? And how can you be eating at a time like this?"

  I paused with a spoonful of oatmeal soufflé halfway to my mouth. "You mean lunchtime?"