Chapter One

April

It was very early in the morning, but the station wagon was loaded to the gunwales. Jane had all her notebooks full of lists, and a suitcase full of clothes for the couple days she'd be at “command central,” a.k.a. the hunting lodge né monastery. She double-checked her notebooks while shelleystumbled about sleepily putting her few belongings in the car. It was only about an hour and a half drive, but Jane didn't want to have to waste time coming home for anything she'd forgotten.

“I still don't quite understand why we have to go up there a couple days early,” Shelly said with a fairly ladylike yawn.

“Because there's a lot to do on site,” Jane answered.

“ ‘On site.' My, that sounds professional,” Shelly commented. “I have to admit you've been pretty cool about this whole thing. I expected a lot more whining.”

“I don't whine,” Jane said. “Well, not as often as I might. It's just a matter of being really organized. I appreciate your coming along to help out at the end though.”

“So what's the plan?” Shelley asked as they buckled their seat belts and Jane handed her a map. Shelley held it out in front of her at a significant distance. Jane considered opening a discussion about bifocals, but decided it wouldn't be politic when Shelley was being helpful.

“Today we just look everything over,” Jane said. “I've got a rough sketch of the house plan, but I've never actually been there. I drove out there last week, but couldn't get the guy who lives there to come to the door. I should have called ahead.”

“Somebody lives in this place?”

“A man Livvy calls ‘Uncle Joe.' A familyretainer who takes care of the building and grounds. For the time being, at least. The place is scheduled toe torn down this summer to put in a country club. Let's see--what else is happening today? The caterer is coming to look over the kitchens and move in his own cooking paraphernalia and the food, and the florist is alsocoming out today to figure out where to put all the arrangements. Then there's the seamstress.” Jane waved good-bye to her mother-in-law, who was staying with the children while Jane was gone, and pulled out into the street.

“The seamstress is coming early?”

“Well, that's the only problem I foresee,” Jane admitted. “You see, the bridesmaids' dresses aren't done yet. I've nagged and nagged and she keeps assuring me they'll be finished, but I have my doubts. So I insisted that she bring her sewing machine up to the lodge to finish them so I can stand right over her and keep on nagging.”

“And maybe have to finish the dresses yourself?” Shelley said. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! You think I'll finish them!”

“It had crossed my mind,” Jane said, grinning. “You're awfully good at sewing. Much better than I am.”

“Jane, you know I don't sew! When have you ever seen me with a needle and thread in hand?”

“But you're so good at everything,” Jane said with gooey sweetness.

Shelley snorted. “You don't have to bribe me with false flattery. I'm already in this with you. So what did the place look like? I'm a bit wary of lodges of any sort.”

That was understandable. The previous fall, Shelley and Jane had been part of a committee investigating a resort facility that had put in a bid to provide a camping experience for their local high school. The weekend had quite incidentally included a double murder and the two women had spent a number of harrowing hours in the main lodge of the resort.“Nothing like the Titus place,” Jane assured her. “It just looks like a monastery that was turned into a hunting lodge. Really big. Old. Sprawling every which way. Additions that look like they might peel off the main building any second. The Thatchers must be very fond of the place to want to have a wedding there.”

“I thought you just said they were letting it be torn down.”

Jane nodded. “Fond enough, at least, to have one last big party there before making a killing on the country club deal.”

After an hour, they stopped at what they judged to be the last outpost of civilization that served breakfast and Shelley asked, “Has the seamstress finished the wedding dress?”

“Oh, yes. And it's beautiful. Mrs. Crossthwait is a very difficult woman, but her work is fantastic. It's just the bridesmaids who might have to wear pattern pieces and swatches. They all agreed to come today for their final fittings.”“What are their dresses like?”

“All different. I picked a cherry pink slubbed silk and let them each choose whatever kind of dress suited them.”

“Jane! What a good idea. Bridesmaid dresses usually are to the taste of the bride, not the wearer, and hang around useless in closets the rest of their lives. I still have the revolting yellow pinafore thingie I had to wear in a cousin's wedding just because I can't stand to get rid of something I've only worn once. Can you picture me in a pinafore-style dress?”

Jane laughed at the image. “I understand these girls-- there are three of them--are very different shapes and sizes. One is wearing a little slip dress with a matching shawl scarf. The plump one picked a boxy jacket and A-line skirt and the third is froufrou. Sort of ‘plantation prom,' from the looks of the pattern. But at least they'll all have the same color and fabric. And the bride is carrying a bouquet of matching pink tulips.”

“Jane, I hate to admit it, but I'm really impressed. You figured this all out yourself?”