Page 17 of A Real Man for Christmas

I stop. “Where was it then?”

Lindsay pointed to the spare bed. She’d opted for a room with two double beds instead of one king-sized bed like mine. I liked my sleeping space.

“So you had it spread out on the bed and then what happened?”

She huffed with impatience. “Like I’ve toldeveryone, then the maid came, and I left to get out of the way. When I got back, it was gone.”

“The beading alone…” my mother trailed off, and a tear gathered at the corner of her eye. “Thousands of dollars,” she said under her breath. She was definitely ready to start planning the dress’s funeral.

I lugged one of Lindsay’s suitcases over to the door to prop it open. At Mom’s and Lindsay’s questioning looks, I said, “So we can see when Dad comes back, and he’ll know where we are.”

Lindsay collapsed into the chair and hugged the throw pillow to her chest. “I can tell you where Dad is. Interrogating that maid in a dark room under a bare light bulb.” At the look I gave her, she went on. “What? Do you think Dad wants to buy me another wedding dress? Here with Manhattan prices? He’s going to make that woman talk.”

A tiny sliver of fear skewered me. Surely my father wouldn’t end up in jail tonight over the wedding dress, would he? I should solve this before he went too far down theLaw and Orderroad. So far he was the only member of my family who hadn’t accused me of being the guilty party.

There was a rustle at the open door. A woman in her thirties stood there holding a wedding dress—I assumed it was Lindsay’s—a little girl of four or five clutching the back of her leg.

“My dress!” Lindsay leaped from the chair and took the dress from the woman.

“I’m so sorry,” the lady said. “My daughter and I left our room”—she pointed to a door farther up the hall—“and when we passed by your room, the maid had propped the door open and was cleaning the bathroom.” She twisted to glance at her daughter. “Lucy ran in and grabbed your dress. She loves wedding dresses. All her dolls have at least one.” The woman’s face visibly paled. “I’m sorry. She got chocolate on it.”

Both Mom’s and Lindsay’s heads snapped back in shock, and Lindsay gasped like the woman had confessed to murder. What had been headed toward a happily ever after for Lindsay and her dress had just taken a turn for the macabre.

“But I got it out! I’m good at getting out stains, believe me!” She darted a blame-filled glance at little Lucy who crouched down behind her mother. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She gently took the dress from my sister and turned the sleeve over to indicate a damp spot. There was no evidence of a stain.

“But what if the water stains?” Lindsay rushed to ask.

“It shouldn’t. But if for some reason it does, dry cleaning will take the water stain out and, of course, we’d pay for it.”

Lindsay’s shoulders lowered and were no longer up around her ears. “Okay. I guess that’s okay.”

“Thanks so much for taking care of the stain and bringing it back,” I said.

“Of course. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I spoke for all of us. Mom and Lindsay huddled over the dress, fussing with the sleeve.

The woman’s gaze settled on them, and she must have sensed it was her moment to escape. She grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Thanks,” she directed at me before fleeing down the hall, her daughter bouncing behind her.

When she’d gone, I closed the door. “I’m going to call Dad.”

Lindsay and Mom looked up from their study of the dress. “Oh, thanks,” Mom said.

“I’ll let him know we found the dress and he can stop interrogating the maid.” I was also going to thank him for being the only member of our family who didn’t think I wasstressedenough to sabotage my sister’s wedding.

Chapter Seven

Iwas spending the evening alone. That was my whole plan. With two-thirds of my family believing I was capable of intentionally sabotaging my sister’s wedding, I didn’t feel like company. Fortunately for me, Mom felt guilty enough for her not-so-secret accusations that she didn’t pressure me or require my presence.

“Have a nice evening, sweetie,” she said with guilt-tinged eyes that she quickly returned to inspecting the gown.

“Good night,” I said and let myself escape.

I didn’t go far. Back in my room, I flicked the TV on, flipped a few channels, landed onLaw and Order, and turned it off again.

That was it. I was hitting the streets.

---