Cut to the Corpse (4 page)

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” she said and was surprised when Tiffany gave her a gentle squeeze and an air-kiss.

“Fabulous, I’ll pop in tomorrow and we can brainstorm some ideas,” Tiffany said.

“Oh, okay,” Brenna said, feeling as if she’d just been tied to the train tracks.

“You’re a dear, Brenna,” she said. “When I heard that Justin and Joan Miller’s daughter was living out in the wild, I thought I’d find you wearing a lot of plaid flannel and letting yourself go, but you look quite lovely.”

“You know my parents then?” Brenna asked faintly.

“Just in passing,” Tiffany said. “We’ve shared a box at the opera once or twice.”

“Oh,” Brenna said.

“I’m sure your mother will be happy to hear how well you look next time I see her.”

“Thank you,” Brenna said. She swallowed the urge to beg Tiffany not to mention seeing her to her parents. But that would be awkward at best; still, it was a tough impulse to ignore.

Tiffany left the break room with a wave of her hand, and Brenna glanced at her reflection in the small mirror on the back of the door. Thank the fashion gods that it was June, and it was too warm for her to wear her favorite flannel shirt. Instead, she was in a snug pair of Mudd jeans and a black eyelet tank top from Talbots. Her shoulder length, curly auburn hair was twisted into a knot on the top of her head, from which a few curly strands had escaped, softening the severity of the hairdo and framing her green brown eyes becomingly.

“Good news!” Tenley stuck her head around the door.

“What’s that?” Brenna asked, looking away from the mirror and focusing on her friend.

“They’re all gone!” Tenley announced, and Brenna laughed.

They walked back into the empty shop together and while they finished cleaning, Brenna told Tenley about her conversation with Tiffany.

“Awfully pessimistic, isn’t she?” Tenley asked. “I wondered when I heard the Montgomerys gave Jake their permission. Now it all makes sense. They don’t expect it to last.”

“And how about those wedding favors?” Brenna asked. “Three hundred of them for a doomed marriage. I have no idea what to do about that.”

“You’ll come up with something,” Tenley assured her. “You’re brilliant, and it will be a fantastic showcase for your work and the shop.”

“Promise you’ll help?” Brenna asked.

“Absolutely,” she said.

A soft rap on the glass front door interrupted their conversation. Outside stood Tara.

Tenley crossed the room to open the door.

“Hi, Tara,” she said. “What brings you back? Did you forget something?”

“No,” she said. “Mother just told me that Brenna has agreed to make my wedding favors, and I just wanted to come back and say thank you. I think they will just be so wonderful.”

“You’re welcome,” Brenna said. She was uncomfortable with Tara’s gushing exuberance. It curled her tongue like too much sugar in a glass of iced tea, but Tara seemed so sincere, Brenna forced a smile through her discomfort. “It’s my pleasure.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Tara said. With a wave and a twirl of her skirt, she whirled back out the door.

Tenley closed and locked it behind her.

“Is she for real?” she asked.

“I think so,” Brenna said. “I don’t get
fake
coming off of her.”

“Me neither,” Tenley said. “She’s just so perky and bubbly. It’s unnatural. That girl really needs an off switch.”

“She’s ten years younger than us,” Brenna observed. “Maybe at thirty-two, our on-off is more intermittent, like windshield wipers.”

“You think?” A worry line creased Tenley’s forehead and she reached for the wine bottle on the refreshment table. It was empty. She made a sad face.

“Let’s go to the Fife and Drum and have a glass of wine,” Brenna suggested.

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” Tenley smiled and went to retrieve their purses.

Brenna watched her go and wondered if the sudden spring in her step had more to do with seeing Matt Collins, the bartender at the Fife and Drum, than it did a glass of wine. She couldn’t help but notice that Tenley was showing shades of Tara’s peppiness. She wasn’t foolish enough to point it out, however.

The sun was just kissing the horizon awake when a gentle knock sounded at Brenna’s door, followed by a frenzy of barking. Brenna padded across the hardwood floor of her cabin, wishing she had taken the time to at least comb her hair when she got up.

Not that it mattered. As soon as the door opened a crack, Hank launched himself at her and began to lick her face. No one was ever as happy to see her as Hank.

She gently pushed him off and he ran into the house. He lapped the main room three times, kicking up area rugs as his nails scratched against the floor. He bounded into the bedroom, and Brenna heard the springs on her queen-sized bed give a groan when Hank landed on it with a thud.

She could see him through the doorway, feet in the air and head on her pillow, looking as happy as a dog could be without a juicy bone in his mouth.

“I can see he’s going to suffer real separation anxiety while I’m gone,” Nate said.

Brenna turned to see him enter the cabin, lugging a leash, two bowls, and a bag of food.

“I’ll show him your picture every day,” she offered.

Nate grinned. “He’ll probably think you’re trying to punish him. My cell phone number is taped to his bag of food if you need to reach me.”

“Any special instructions?” she asked.

“I’d say don’t spoil him, but what would be the point?” he asked.

“Indeed,” she agreed.

“Seriously, thank you,” Nate said. “It helps knowing he’s in good hands.”

An awkward silence fell between them while they watched Hank wrestle with Brenna’s pale blue cotton sheets. He looked as if he were burrowing into the bed for a long doze.

“Lucky dog,” Nate said.

Brenna turned to find his steady gray gaze regarding her. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, like where was he going and why? But caution held her silent. Nate was deeply private and she felt as if he’d let her into his world more than most. She didn’t want to get the boot by being too inquisitive.

So she smiled and said, “Call anytime you want a Hank update. I’ll either be here or at the shop and I always have my cell phone on me.”

“I will,” he said. “Bye, Hank, be good.”

Hank barked and wiggled farther down into the bed.

Brenna followed Nate to the door, and when he opened it, a sliver of warm June air brushed by her.

He stepped onto the porch and turned back to face her. Again, Brenna felt awkward. They were friends, but not like she and Tenley were friends. If Tenley left town for a few days, Brenna would hug her. She had no idea what to do with Nate, so she settled for a small wave.

He lifted his hand to wave back. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something more but then shook his head. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned on his heel and walked down the three front porch steps onto the grass beyond. Brenna closed the door and moved to the window to watch him walk toward the communal parking lot they all shared. It was cold comfort to think that he didn’t know what to do with her either.

As soon as she stepped away from the window, Hank bounded out of her bed. He paced back and forth in front of the door, leaving her with no doubt as to what he wanted.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take you for a W-A-L-K,” she said. She spelled the word, knowing from previous experience that Hank would go mental if she said it out loud. Judging by the way his ears pricked up and his tail wagged, however, she feared he was becoming quite the speller.

“Just a quick one,” she said as she went to get dressed. “I have to meet Tara and her mother in the shop this morning, and I still haven’t got any ideas for the wedding favors.”

Hank barked. Brenna appreciated his vote of confidence. Too bad she didn’t believe him.

Brenna was twenty minutes late. Normally, this would not be a problem, but when she pulled into an empty spot in front of Vintage Papers and saw the silver Lexus next to her, her heart sank. She hoped the Montgomerys hadn’t been waiting long.

She hit the lock button on her key fob and the Jeep gave a honk of confirmation that all the doors were locked. Despite having lived in Morse Point for over a year and a half now, Brenna was still vigilant about locking her car and house. She knew most of the townsfolk thought she was crazy, but after the town mayor was murdered a few months ago, Brenna saw no reason to be lax. Having grown up in Boston, locking doors and carrying pepper spray came as naturally to her as breathing.

She pulled open the door to the shop, and sure enough, Tiffany and Tara were sitting at the worktable in the back of the room, looking through several paper sample books while Tenley served them hot tea and sugar cookies.

“I am so sorry to keep you waiting,” Brenna apologized. “I’m dog sitting and, well, he has a mind of his own and a short walk turned into a long jog.”

“Don’t think on it,” Tiffany assured her. “We’ve been looking at some of your pieces. You are quite talented.”

“Thank you,” Brenna said. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

She sat in the chair opposite the two women and Tenley sat beside her, pushing a delicate Haviland china cup in her direction.

Brenna absently added a dollop of honey to the steaming tea and admired the pretty yellow roses that decorated the side of the cup. That’s when inspiration struck.

“What sort of flowers are you having for your bouquet?” she asked Tara.

“Oh, we found the most wonderful florist,” she enthused. “I’m going to carry yellow and red roses mixed with red pyracantha berries and surrounded by yellow calla lilies. It’s breathtaking.”

Brenna smiled. This might work. She especially liked the berries part.

“What do you think of using a glass votive with a scented candle in it for your wedding favor?”

Tara’s eyes lit up while Tiffany looked thoughtful. Brenna glanced at Tenley. Tara could like it all she wanted but it was Tiffany who would make the final decision as this was really her show.

“Tell me more,” Tiffany said.

“I’ll do better than that,” Brenna said. “Let me see if I can show you what I mean.”

She went over to the armoire and began to search through the drawers. In the bottom she found a plain glass votive. She fished through her box of specialty papers until she came up with a stem covered in red berries and a yellow rose.

“We could decoupage flowers and berries to the glass,” she said. “Then we could put a layer of tissue paper over it to give it a frosted look.”

Tiffany sat up straighter. Brenna could tell she liked what she was hearing.

“I like it,” Tiffany said. “But it doesn’t really commemorate the day.”

“Think of all the wedding favors you’ve gotten with a couple’s name and date on them. Unless they’re edible, they just become one more thing stuffed in a closet somewhere. This would be something people could use again,” Brenna said.

“She’s right, Mother,” Tara said. “I have boxes of wedding favors with no place to go.”

“You know, we could get monogrammed candles to put into the votives,” Tenley said. “I bet we could go to a candlemaker and have them create a specially scented candle with your initials on it and then we could put them in Brenna’s votives.”

“I love it,” Tiffany declared. Tara beamed.

“Excellent,” Brenna said. She could have kissed Tenley for coming up with the monogrammed candle idea. “I’ll make up a few in different colors and sizes and then you can tell me what you prefer.”

“In the meantime, I’ll start calling local candlemakers,” Tiffany said. “I’m not going to tell Sheri, our wedding planner, because I don’t want her to steal the idea for one of her other clients. We’ll just tell her it’s under control.”