Chapter 3
Nikki combined a yawn
with a groan while waking on Saturday morning. Anxiety-filled
dreams had kept her tossing and turning through the night. She
couldn’t help the combined sense of dread and anticipation planting
itself squarely in her gut. Maybe today would be a tell-all day.
She was actually going to a wedding with Derek. Couldn’t that be
considered a date? At least a borderline one? He hadn’t made it
sound like a real date with his excuse of “not wanting to go
alone,” but a girl could dream.
She clambered out of
bed and pulled on her morning attire of exercise pants and T-shirt.
Time to put fantasies aside. She headed out on her daily run down
to Yountville where she could grab a cup of coffee and check up on
Isabel.
Something about
stepping out onto fertile ground bright and early always livened
her senses. She couldn’t help but appreciate where life had taken
her in recent months. A long way from the glitz of Hollywood and
even farther from the back hills of Tennessee.
Her feet pounded
against the dirt road that led down to Highway 29, as she took in
the imagery of rolling green hills surrounding her, mixed in with
various golden hues of sienna, burnt oranges, and rich
browns.
She reached
Yountville and deviated from her usual routine of grabbing her cup
of joe at the Bouchon Bakery with its scrumptious flaky croissants
and gourmet coffees, because she knew Isabel would be at Grapes
preparing for the reception, and could probably use a helping hand.
Sure enough, a line of delivery trucks, their metal doors rolled
up, were filling up with tray upon tray of food. A steady stream of
workers Isabel had hired for the event continued bringing it
on.
Nikki rounded the
front door and came face to face with a harried Isabel shouting
orders, her fingers pointing in all directions.
She grabbed Isabel
gently by the shoulders. “Hey, hey. Slow down for a minute, Izzy
B,” she said. “They all look like they’re doing the best they can.
You don’t want to get a reputation for being difficult. I know this
thing is tough on you, but let’s look at it as an opportunity. You
pull this off and do the job I know you will, everyone in the wine
country and beyond will know you and want you for their
events.”
Isabel nodded, her
eyes watering. “I know. I am being stupid. I have been stupid all
along. I thought I loved Kristof though, you know? Crazy. It is not
like he ever told me that he loved me. We did not spend much time
together as my mind thinks about it. I understand why now. I
thought he was busy with the vineyard and winery, but he was
spending time with his bride-to-be. I was what you call here in
America, an extracurricular activity. A fling.”
“Forget Kristof
Waltman. He’s a jerk. Once the day is done, you can move on. I’m
gonna grab a cup of coffee and then you’re going to put me to work.
Deal?”
“No. You have a busy
day yourself. You are going with Derek
tonight.”
“What does that
mean?” Nikki took a step back.
“It is exactly that.
If you want to make me tell you what I mean . . .” She shrugged. “I
will say that he is handsome, he is nice, and you have a sweetness for him.”
“I do not. I’m too
old for crushes. He’s my boss and friend. He needs a date he can go
with and not feel pressured by. This isn’t a real
date.”
“Nikki, you do not
convince me. I do not think you convince yourself.” Isabel winked
at her. “The cafe is in the kitchen and if you want to help, I
suppose I will not turn you down. And because you made the point
yourself—it is not a real date with your employer.”
They both giggled and
Isabel went back to giving orders, only this time she brought her
barking down a notch.
Nikki knew that if
she admitted it she did have feelings for her boss. And, she hoped
that his invitation to this wedding was an indicator that he
reciprocated those same feelings. They’d forged a connection right
after she’d decided to come to work for him and she’d saved his
life from a murderer who had killed his friend, and the Malveaux
Estate’s winemaker, Gabriel Asanti. And, even though they flirted
and she thought there was something between them, neither one had
pursued it. Maybe that would all change tonight with the two of
them going to the wedding together.
Thankfully, the day
passed by in fast motion. Before long mid-afternoon was upon them,
and Isabel wanted to grab a quick shower before heading over to the
Waltman Estate to oversee the event.
Andrés showed up
during the preparations and helped out through the day, too. Nikki
hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to him much because they’d
all been so busy.
The work done at
Grapes, and the food on its way to the Estate, Andrés came over to
Nikki and draped an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll give you a ride
home, since it’s getting late. I know you have to get ready for
tonight.”
“Yeah, I suppose
showing up in a T-shirt and jogging pants wouldn’t work,
huh?”
“If anyone could pull
it off, it’s you. Come on, let’s go.”
“You are good for my
ego.”
A strange silence sat
between them once in the car. Andrés turned on the radio. Stephen
Stills was singing “Love the One You’re With.” Nikki crossed her
legs and rolled her head from side to side, hearing her neck crack.
Why the tension? She was with one of her best friends, and there
had never been anything awkward between them before. Andrés hummed
along with Stills. Nikki cracked her window.
Andrés never brought
anyone with him to the various parties they’d attended. Neither had
she, for that matter. He’d never mentioned a woman, but a man like
Andrés must’ve had many loves. She’d never asked, but maybe there
was a woman back in his native Spain or in Argentina where he’d
gone to the university to study viticulture. Although she was
curious and wanted to ask him about it, a larger part of her
didn’t.
Neither of them said
anything during the five-minute ride back to the Malveaux Estate
other than it had already been a long day and they both felt for
Isabel and the night ahead she’d have to endure. Andrés pulled up
in front of Nikki’s place. “Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks, and thanks
again for the ride. I’m sure I’ll see you at some point in the
evening. You’re still going to help Isabel, aren’t you?” she
asked.
“Of course. I’ll
probably see you.” He leaned across the seat and gave her an
awkward kiss on the cheek.
She shut the door of
his truck and turned to wave upon reaching her porch. He waved
back. When had things gotten tense between them? Was there
something more going on there than she’d recognized? Sure, they
flirted and he was a wonderful man, but her sights were always
really on Derek. Maybe they shouldn’t be. Why was she thinking like
this? She’d never thought about marriage or family too much before.
Since leaving Los Angeles where it was cool to be single and
carefree and coming to Napa, it had become increasingly difficult
not to notice the families that lived here and the ties that bound
them. A white picket fence, Prince Charming, and two children might
not be such a bad thing.
An hour and a half
later she remembered exactly why her sights were set on Derek as he
looked ridiculously too good to be true, his eyes matching a
medium-blue silk shirt and navy pinstriped suit. His blond hair,
naturally highlighted from all the time he spent in the sun on his
land, emphasized his golden tan. He stood in her entry and for a
moment she couldn’t speak.
“Wow,” he said. “You
look . . . Wow.”
“Thanks. It’s a
little something I picked up at one of the boutiques.” What a lie
that one was—a little something. Right, a little something that
cost a quarter of her two-week paycheck. The sea-green silk dress
made her look big busted. And she kind of liked the look. Hey, there was no fooling around on this
not real date. She was going vavavoom
all the way.
They took off in
Derek’s Range Rover and made the windy pass to Sonoma. After half
an hour of driving, they pulled into the wrought-iron gates at the
Waltman Castle, which looked like a true gothic blast from the
past. What a setting. There wasn’t a car on the lot that had cost
less than $80,000. The valets were dressed in velvet knickers,
white tights and top hats.
“Over the top,” Derek
said.
“Something tells me
we haven’t seen anything yet,” she replied.
He laughed, nodded
his head and threaded his arm through hers.
It was a costume
party of haute couture as the women had donned their Gallianos,
Guccis, Pradas, and Armanis. The men wore the gamut from expensive
suits to tuxes. Nikki glanced at Derek walking beside
her.
“What?” he asked,
obviously feeling her gaze.
“I’m just wondering
what you might look like in a tux.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I don’t do monkey suits, sweetheart.”
“Oh, a rough and
tough macho type. I see now. I’m figuring you all out, Derek
Malveaux.”
“Good. When you have
me all figured out, could you fill me
in? I’m not Mr. Machismo. I don’t like the idea of a tux; hell, I
fought with myself over putting on this suit.”
“It’s true, your
usual attire are those jeans you love and a T-shirt, but I have to
say that you don’t look half bad in that suit. I kind of like this
new look for you.”
“Don’t get used to
it,” he teased.
They continued to
walk up the brick pathway toward the Waltman Mansion, replete with
turrets, steeple tops, and built from the ground up with a
dark-grey brick. There was something almost frightening about the
place. No one could deny its beauty, but Nikki wasn’t sure she’d
want to live here. Some of the rumors she’d heard around town
maintained that the place had a resident ghost. By the looks of it,
she wouldn’t doubt it.
“Do you believe the
story about Old Man Waltman?” Nikki referred to Kristof Waltman’s
great, great grandfather and the original owner of the Waltman
Estate and vineyard. He’d built the empire. The Waltmans were
five-generation Sonoma farmers, although it was doubtful that
Kristof did any farming at any point. Maybe his dad Marty took a
turn among the vines now and then, but from what she knew of
Kristof he was too busy with
extracurricular activities to be working in the
trenches.
“The ghost story?
That he roams the castle at night? That’s a tale. A fun one, but
no, I don’t believe it.”
“You don’t believe
the story? Or you don’t believe in ghosts?”
“I’ll never say
never, but until I see one, I have my doubts.”
They walked up the
front steps, and the back of Nikki’s dress caught on her heel. She
started to fall, but Derek grabbed her before she hit the
ground.
“Are you okay?” He
held her in his arms.
“I, uh. Yeah. Jeez, I
feel like a total klutz.” She faced him.
“Let’s get inside and
make sure you’re alright.”
“It’s no big deal.
I’ll be fine. I’m glad I didn’t tear the dress.” She laughed it
off, but for what the dress cost her, she meant it.
They started to walk
again and she realized she needed to be concerned with more than a
twist to her ankle. She’d broken the damn strap on her
sandal.
The mansion inside
had mahogany hardwood floors, wrought-iron spiral staircases, and
walls painted a golden color, illuminated by candlelight. Nikki
suggested to Derek she take a minute to go upstairs to the
restroom. Most of the people were already milling toward the
outside to get their seats. Susan obviously liked purple because it
abounded throughout in all shades. The flowers of choice—Sterling
Silver roses with their soft lavender color and deep floral smell
permeated throughout. Magenta-colored lilies tucked in between the
roses snaked through the banisters. The lilies had also been placed
in tall crystal vases. The candles lighting the castle were a deep,
dark, almost black purple.
Nikki walked on her
aching foot, trying not to limp up the stairs. At the top she found
a massive hallway going to the right and another to the left. Not
seeing any directions, she went to the right. Walking down the hall
she saw the groom’s dressing room. A little ways farther was the
bride’s room.
There stood Susan
Jennings outside the room, all Vera Wanged out in silk and tulle in
a dress that had a vintage thirties feel to it—beaded down to the
ground, thin straps on the shoulder leading into a plunging
neckline, and cut on the bias. Her golden hair waved into what
could only remind someone of a Marlene Dietrich look, from the era
of black and white movies. Susan gave the word stunning a new meaning with the kind of glamour of
days gone by. Another woman stood with her, hands on hips, wearing
a low-cut black-sequined number and a smirk on her
face.
Nikki overheard her
saying to Susan, “It’s only right that you should ask your only
sister to be in the wedding. I can’t believe that you didn’t ask
me. Am I that much of an embarrassment to you?”
“Jennifer, I don’t
have time for this. Go and take your seat, please. I’ve done plenty
for you. Beyond what any other sister would do. How fast you forget
what I have done for you. I can change
that, too, if you want to keep up the moaning and groaning.” Susan
heard Nikki’s footsteps and looked over at her. “What do you need?”
she asked curtly.
“Actually, the
bathroom.”
“You were supposed to
go down the other hall. Didn’t you see the signs?”
“There weren’t
any.”
“You’ve got to be
kidding? I told the help to put out signs for people. I swear, if
you want something done right, apparently you have to do it
yourself. Fine.” She let out an aggrieved sigh. “There’s another
one a few feet down that way.” Susan pointed behind
her.
Endless halls, dozens
of bathrooms and bedrooms, a person could get downright lost for a
couple of years in this place.
“Hey, wait,” Susan
called out after her. “Aren’t you Isabel’s friend? Shouldn’t you be
in the kitchen?”
“I’m a guest. I’m
here with Derek Malveaux.”
Susan raised her
eyebrows into a comical arch. “You’re working your way up the
ladder. Impressive. A girl after my own heart.”
“That’s for sure,”
said Jennifer, the woman whom Nikki presumed to be Susan’s sister.
Susan gave her a dirty look.
Nikki found the
restroom. However, curiosity—one of her traits that usually got her
into trouble—got the best of her as she whipped around, once inside
the bathroom, and cracked the door to see if she could hear
anything further between the two squabbling siblings. She couldn’t
hear them very well, but she could see that they were both heated
up. She leaned closer into the crack of the door. What she saw next
surprised her. Susan Jennings opened her small beaded purse and
handed Jennifer what looked to be a check. Wasn’t it supposed to be
the other way around on wedding days? The bride and groom receiving
monies and gifts?
Jennifer looked down
at the check. “I thought it would be more.”
“God, leave me alone
and get the hell out of my way. I’m going to get married now. Go
sit down, Jennifer, and stop being so damn greedy.”
Susan went back into
her dressing room, slamming the door behind her. “You’ll pay more.
I doubt you want Kristof knowing all your dirty little secrets,”
Jennifer said to the door, and then in a huff walked toward the
stairs.
Nikki did a quick fix
on her high-heeled sandals, knowing that if anyone attending the
wedding saw them they’d be aghast at the spectacle her right foot
was now strapped into, but there wasn’t much else she could
do.
On her pained foot,
she found herself behind Susan’s entourage of bridesmaids and a
flower girl, with Pamela Leiland holding up Susan’s lengthy train.
They, too, had that long ago-era look going for them, but all in
the various shades of purple, with the flower girl wearing the
lightest of lavenders on up to Pamela, whose beaded number was the
darkest of the dresses in that almost purply black. None of them
took note of Nikki, who knew she better find Derek
quickly.
Once down the steps,
the bridal party went out the side door and as Nikki turned to go
the other way toward where the guests were seated, someone tapped
her on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” a young man in a courier uniform
said. “Do you know Sara Waltman?”
“I know who she is,”
Nikki replied.
“Good. Can you see
that she gets this?” He handed her a large letter size
envelope.
“Sure.” She took it
and felt a bit awkward for doing so, but she understood the man’s
need. He had a job to do, and she was all he could find inside the
castle at that moment. Nikki signed for the letter. It had Sara’s
name on it and she would have to remember once the nuptials were
over to find Kristof ’s great aunt to make sure she got the
envelope. As she went inside to set the envelope down on the foyer
table behind a vase of flowers, she couldn’t help noticing the
return address. It read “Lawson & Rennert,” and then, “San
Francisco Premier Investigative Services.” Kind of interesting.
Sara must be having someone investigated. Well, this winery and
vineyard she was vested in was a multi-million dollar company, and
she wasn’t getting any younger. It probably had something to do
with her will. It really wasn’t any of Nikki’s business, so she set
the envelope behind the vase and made a mental note to tell Sara
when she saw her.
It took several more
minutes before Nikki found Derek. He’d waited for her over by a
gazebo draped in purple velvet and flowers. “I was getting
worried,” he told her.
“I’m fine.” She
pulled up the side of her dress to show him the
sandal.
“Nice
legs.”
“My sandal, silly. I
had to try and fix my shoe so it’ll work for now.”
“I knew that. Let’s
take our seat. The music is starting.”
Nikki soon became
distracted as the groom and his groomsmen came onto the scene
looking dapper in their tuxes. Kristof Waltman was the kind of man
you’d take a second look at, with light blue eyes and medium brown
hair that he wore slightly longish and wavy. Today he’d slicked it
back. He had a baby face look about him and was almost too
pretty-looking to be a man. She understood the attraction Isabel
had toward him, even though he wasn’t Nikki’s type at
all.
She and Derek were
seated toward the front and she couldn’t help wondering who the
parents of the bride were, because no one looked old enough to be
the parents. On Kristof ’s side were his dad, and Great Aunt Sara,
along with several other family members. But no Mom Waltman. Rumors
abounded that Mom had left a very young Kristof and Dad behind
years ago, for someone with even more money and a desire to spend
it, rather than save it like Marty Waltman was known to do. But if
he was the one footing the bill for this shindig, he’d spared
nothing at all.
Nikki did see
Jennifer seated in Susan’s family section. Next to her sat a tall,
dark man with a Guido-the-pimp look going on. He also appeared kind
of pissed off, with his lips down-turned and his eyes reflecting a
glint of what Nikki thought might be hatred. She had to wonder what
was the source of his anger. Or maybe that was the way he always
looked.
Before long the
wedding march played and the guests stood for the bride’s
procession down the aisle. Once up there with her groom, the
nuptials didn’t take long. Apparently these folks wanted to get to
the party, which, lucky for them, and for Nikki’s ankle, was only a
few feet away.
As soon as the
newlyweds walked back down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Kristof
Waltman, the guests rose to their feet, and within minutes the
party began with music echoing off the hills, and the wine flowing
freely, along with the appetizers coming by on trays and being
passed out to those wanting to have a taste.
Nikki and Derek found
their table before getting any wine. She set down her purse and
turned to go with him to the bar.
“No. Take a seat. I
can tell your foot hurts.”
“I’m
fine.”
“No, you’re not.
You’re ornery. Now take a seat, I’ll get us a couple of glasses of
wine and some goodies.”
She sighed as he
walked away. An older gentleman who stuck out his hand soon joined
her at the table. “Blake Sorgensen.”
She took it and
shook, introducing herself. “Nikki Sands.”
“Quite an event. It
doesn’t surprise me though. Marty spares no expense when it comes
to Kristof. I’ve known them for years and Marty is terrible about
spoiling that boy, but I can’t blame him after his mother left them
both the way she did. I would’ve spoiled a kid, too, if I ever had
any children, but I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
“Oh. What do you do?”
Nikki didn’t know enough about Kristof ’s past to be prying. She
decided it best to turn the conversation toward Blake Sorgensen
himself. She was sure he’d have no problem with that.
He took out a cigar
and lit it, puffing on it till a plume of acrid smoke rose up past
his silvered hair. He might’ve been a handsome man once, but his
reddened cheeks and bleary eyes gave her every indication that
Blake was a drinker and had been for years. He waved his hand in
the smoke trying to get it to blow away from her. Awfully
thoughtful.
“A little of this, a
little of that. I dabble in all sorts of businesses.”
Alrighty then, and
that meant what exactly? She was relieved to see Marty Waltman walk
up about that time. He slapped Blake on the back. Pamela Leiland
was at Marty’s side. “Hey there, old man, are you picking on this
pretty lady?”
“No. I’m hitting on
her and who are you calling old?”
This guy was getting
sleazier by the minute. She found it difficult to believe that he
and Marty were friends. Marty looked like the kind of man she’d
always envisioned she’d want for her dad—calm, clean-cut, usually
with a smile on his face. He wore glasses, which gave him a look of
intelligence. It must’ve been good to be Kristof growing up, but
then again he hadn’t had a mom, and she could relate to that
feeling. Sort of. Or at least she knew the feeling of being
abandoned by her mother. Besides, she understood better than most
that one couldn’t judge a book by the cover.
After another minute
of small talk, Pamela tugged on Marty’s sleeve and they walked away
just as Derek returned with the wine and a variety of appetizers.
Sitting down, he handed Nikki a glass of chardonnay. They clinked
their glasses together in a silent toast and took a sip. He winked
at her and she thought she might just melt right on down into the
white wine with its smooth melon taste and honey
notes.
“Don’t you two make a
nice couple?” Blake said. “You really do, and for the record, I was
only kidding about hitting on you. I’ve learned my lesson with you
younger women. You either love and leave us rich old bastards after
spending a bunch of our money, or you wind up wanting a house full
of kids. I’m too old for any damn kids. You two are the right age
for each other. Marty better watch it with that young thing he’s
got hanging on him. He’ll either wind up burnt or having to remodel
his gaming room into a nursery.” He nodded in the direction of
Marty and Pamela.
Neither Nikki nor
Derek knew what to say. She did find it interesting to see Pamela
Leiland so tight with the father of the groom. How did Susan feel
about that, and more so, what did Kristof think? Pamela was a good
thirty years younger than the senior Waltman.
“Will you two excuse
me? I hate to take off early from this shindig, but I’ve got a
plane to catch. I bought a yacht down in Cabo recently and I’m
headed there for a few days of some R and R,” Blake Sorgensen
said.
“No problem,” Derek
replied.
Nikki stifled her
laughter as they watched Blake rush over to the bride who was
making her rounds through a throng of people. He reached her,
drawing her away from the group surrounding her and pulled her
close, hugging her quite intimately.
“I thought he was
Marty Waltman’s friend,” Derek commented. “Looks pretty close to
the bride, too.”
“I think he’s fairly
toasted already. Too bad he has to go. Nothing like having an
obnoxious drunk at the table to keep you entertained.” She took a
sip from her wine. “I hope he has a driver.”
“It’s good he’s
leaving for Cabo.” Derek emphasized
Cabo in a haughty tone, feigning to be
the pompous Blake Sorgensen. “Anyway, I doubt we would have needed
him to entertain us, Nikki.”
Ooh, trumped and
stumped. No reply for that one. Lucky for Nikki, she didn’t need
one, as the bride started a bit of commotion.
“Your name is Louis
Faulker?” Susan laughed out loud. The crowd around her laughed
some, too. A few people walked away. “Like fucker, only Faulker?
You poor thing. You really should take that nametag off, Louis. I’m
so sorry for you.”
A young man in his
early twenties blushed, his head down. He wore a tux and was one of
the staff Isabel had hired for the evening. He’d been passing out
appetizers when Susan had apparently decided it would be fun to
tease the poor man. Nikki remembered talking to him briefly earlier
at the restaurant while loading the trays. He was slight, already
balding at a young age, had bad skin, and wore thick
glasses.
“Who hired you?”
Susan continued.
Isabel rushed to
Louis’ side. She whispered something in his ear and he left, going
toward the kitchen. Isabel handed Susan a glass of champagne. Nikki
noticed Kristof wink at Isabel. She started to stand, wanting to
give both King and Queen Slimeball a piece of her
mind.
However, the band
started to play The Isley Brothers “For The Love Of You,” and Derek
grabbed her hand. “Wanna dance?”
Nikki turned back to
glance at Isabel and the bride. She appeared to have it under
control. Derek squeezed her hand. “Sure.”
“Foot hurt too
badly?”
“Uh, uh.” She kicked
her sandals off under the table, not caring who saw. Derek escorted
her onto the large section of patio serving as a dance floor. He
held her tight and close. He smelled like sweet woods. She closed
her eyes. Were his eyes closed? She leaned her head on his chest.
His really strong chest. God, he felt good. The song wound down.
Did the dance have to end? Her entire body tingled while he twirled
the loosened tendrils of wispy hair that had fallen from her
chignon on the back of her neck. But the dance did end, with
neither one of them quickly pulling away from the other. Until the
band started playing the ever-so-popular wedding song—“Love Shack”
by the B-52’s.
“Thanks,” he
whispered, grazing her ear with his lips. He held her hand walking
back to the table when she remembered Isabel and the spectacle
Susan had made prior to the dance.
She didn’t even have
to tell Derek what she was thinking because he said to her, “Do you
want to go and see about Isabel?”
She nodded and told
him she’d be right back, because she definitely wanted another
dance. She was so elated she even forgot to put her sandals back on
and she nearly forgot how much her ankle hurt.
She found Isabel
hustling around in the kitchen. “Hey, you okay?”
Isabel handed her a
glass of wine. “No. No, I am not. I had to send poor Louis home. I
will probably wind up paying for therapy for him. Can you believe
that woman?”
Nikki shook her
head.
“Do you know what she
did now? She came here into the kitchen again, making complaints
about my phyllo wraps.”
“They were
delicious.”
“Yes, but not
according to her. Can you take that up
the stairs to her?” Isabel pointed with her hot mitt at the glass
of wine she’d handed to Nikki. “She is in her dressing room making
a change of clothes into her next gown, for her and her groom to
make a formal entrance.”
“You’ve got to be
kidding me? I’d say she’s already made an entrance and then
some.”
“Do I look like I am
making it up? She wants another glass of wine, and she wants it
now. I poured her one minutes ago when she came in to make
complaints. She is buzzing the intercom down here for another one,
and all of my people are working fast to take care of all the other
details.”
“No problem. Only a
few more hours and this nightmare will be over.” Nikki ascended the
stairs, feeling terrible that Isabel was having such a hard
time.
She tapped on the
bridal room door. No answer. Nikki opened the door, not caring if
Susan Jennings screamed at her for entering unannounced. But Susan
didn’t scream at her. Instead, the woman was sprawled out on the
floor. Her wineglass half emptied on the vanity.
“That’s what you get
for drinking too much too soon at your own wedding and being so
awful to my friend.”
Nikki walked over to
her and slipped her arms under Susan’s shoulders to try and lift
her. “You’ve got to get up, Queenie, and make your entrance.” A
wicked thought crossed Nikki’s mind. Maybe she should leave the
drunken wench to sleep off her self-induced high. She could go out
and tell everyone that Susan was passed out and wouldn’t be joining
the party. That would be pretty rotten. “Listen here, Mrs. Thang,
you’ve got a gazillion guests out there waiting to see you partying
some more in all your glory, so get your butt up and get going.”
Nikki lightly slapped Susan’s face. She couldn’t have drunk that
much booze in such a short amount of time.
Something was wrong.
Susan wasn’t moving at all. Nikki laid her back down on the floor
and watched her chest for a few seconds, watching for it to rise
and fall. No movement. Then she bent over to hear for her
breathing. Nothing. Finally she took the bride’s pulse, her own
pulse quickening and adrenaline pumping through her. Nikki dropped
Susan’s limp hand as a scream caught in the back of her throat,
realizing in horror that Susan Jennings Waltman wouldn’t be making
a formal entrance to her wedding reception. In fact, Susan Jennings
Waltman wouldn’t be making any type of entrance anywhere ever
again. The bride was dead.