Page 7 of Little Dark Deeds
“I know that look.You’re worried about something, aren’t you?What’s happened?”
“I ...ahh, I was just thinking about how wonderful your ceremony was, and I got a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”
It wasn’t all, though.
He was keeping something from me, deflecting.
“I came outside to get a bit of air,” he added.“What about you?”
Whatever was troubling him, he didn’t want to discuss it.Not right then, at least.Maybe it was personal in nature.My instincts told me not to press the matter, but given we’d always been close, it was just what I wanted to do.
“I’m headed to my room,” I said.“I need to change before the dancing starts.”
“You have athirddress?”
“I sure do.I figure I’m never getting married again.May as well make the most of it.”
He shrugged.“Makes sense, I suppose.”
“I’ll auction off everything I’ve worn today and donate the proceeds to charity.”
Harvey walked toward me, embracing me in a hug.“I’m so proud of you, of everything you’ve done with your life ...of the woman you are today, and the woman you’ve always been.”
“And I’m grateful for you.I am that woman because of your guidance.”
He made a sweeping motion with his hand.“Oh, I don’t know about that.I was just trying to step into your father’s shoes.Big shoes to fill, to be sure.You run along and get changed now.I better get back in there before your mother comes looking for me.”
I nodded, knowing she’d materialize at any moment.
Harvey ducked back inside the tent, and I entered the house, which was teeming with staff hired to oversee the reception.Food was coming in and going out, along with trays of champagne and dirty dishes being replaced with clean ones, as they prepared to transition from the reception dinner to the fun stuff—the dessert.And by dessert, I mean charcuterie boards, and a wedding cake made of layers of stacked cheese wheels.There’d be sweets for those who wanted a sugary treat, of course, but as for me and my house, we would eat cheese.
I left the buzz of the main hall, ascending a long flight of stairs before arriving in the biggest of the guest suites, which came complete with its own living room, two full bathrooms—one for each of us—and a bar area.
I kicked off my shoes, flexing my toes as I gave my feet a much-needed rest.Then I took great care in removing my dress, slipping it off and placing it back on the hanger inside the plastic bag it came in.I hung it in the closet and reached for the bag containing my third and final dress of the night.Unzipping it, I took a moment to admire the white, above-knee party gown.Its flapper, fringe-sheathed design with tiny white beads and feather hemline had caught my eye months earlier when I saw it in a vintage clothing shop.The moment I saw it, I knew it was the perfect dress to end a perfect night.
I laid the dress out on the bed and moved a hand to my hips, looking around.
“Now where did I set my phone down ...”
I found it on top of a pillow and reached for it.There were several calls and even more texts, none of which were from Tiffany.I scrolled through my contacts until I found her number.The call went through, and the phone rang and rang.I hung up and tried again.This time, it went straight to voicemail.
My first thought was to be snarky, to let her know how I felt about her being a no-show.But without knowing what had happened, that approach didn’t feel right.She wouldn’t stand me up.It wasn’t like her.
I settled on:
“Hey, Tiffany.I missed you today.Wemissed you.It was a perfect day.Well, perfect except for you not being here.I’m not sure why you didn’t show up or why you’re not here now, but all I care about is that I hear from you.I’m not sure if you missed your flight or if something else came up, but I’m starting to get worried.Call me, please, as soon as you get this message.I need to know you’re all right.”
I ended the call and walked to the bathroom, taking a few moments to touch up my makeup before pulling my wavy, plum-colored, shoulder-length locks back into a sleek bun at the nape of my neck.As I slipped on my dress, my phone buzzed.Hoping it was Tiffany, I raced across the room to answer it and was met with disappointment—a text from my mother.
Hurry back down, dear.The DJ says she won’t start playing her set until you arrive.Your guests are getting restless.Toodaloo!
I had no doubt our guests were fine.The booze had been flowing for over three hours now.They weren’t restless.They were soaking in the sauce, eager to get their dance on.
Slipping my shoes back on, I felt immediate pain, my feet begging to be free after all the hours I’d spent in heels.I debated my options and then slipped them back off, dangling them between a few fingers as I went barefoot, maybe even for the rest of the night.
Besides, this bride didn’t need to follow the rules.
Not when she was so dang good at breaking them.
