Entertaining Angels (18 page)

Shirley’s brow lifted. “Was that necessary?”

Cassandra cleared her throat, then dropped her voice. “Shana insisted.”

“Well, then. You didn’t have much choice. I’m not at all sure why she insisted upon—”

Cassandra slid an arm around her mother’s waist, as though roping her in—or perhaps joining forces. “I know, but there isn’t much that can be done about that.”

“No, I suppose there isn’t.”

A knot formed in Craig’s gut, and he clenched his hands at his sides. For some reason, he had the urge to go to bat for a woman he hardly knew. But he kept his mouth shut. He really didn’t have a dog in this fight, and he ought to be glad that he didn’t.

Daniel reentered the room and served drinks to his in-laws, providing them with linen cocktail napkins. “We’ve hired a waiter for this evening, so he’ll be taking care of refills and passing out hors d’oeuvres.”

The doorbell rang, and Daniel excused himself. When he returned, he escorted the Rensfields into the living room and made introductions.

Eric Rensfield, a short, heavyset man in his late sixties, wore
a dark blue suit and a predominantly yellow tie, the only thing about him that seemed noteworthy. With sparse gray hair, hazel eyes, and thin lips, the man seemed almost nondescript.

On the other hand, his wife, Darla, was a shapely and attractive brunette who wore a red knit dress and appeared to be about twenty years younger than her husband.

Again the doorbell rang, and this time Daniel brought Brad into the fold. The fair-haired young man resembled his father more than his mother, and Craig couldn’t help wondering if he and Shana, whose portrait suggested she was a striking young woman, would seem just as mismatched as his parents.

Probably not.

“Thank you for inviting us to dinner,” Brad said. “My parents and I have been looking forward to this evening. My only regret is that Shana can’t be here.”

“I’m sorry about that, too, Brad.” Daniel placed a hand on his future son-in-law’s shoulder and grinned. “How’s school?”

“It’s going very well. I’m prepping for the bar and looking for a law clerk position this summer.” Brad chuckled and leaned his head toward Daniel. “Of course, I haven’t settled on one yet, so if you hear of an opening … maybe at your firm?”

“I’m afraid all of our positions have been taken,” Daniel said.

Shana’s grandfather, who’d been looking on, eased into the conversation. “Surely, you can find a place for him, Daniel. It’s usually just a matter of pulling in a favor or two.”

Daniel seemed to stand taller, straighter. “I’ll certainly let you know if I hear of any openings, Brad.”

Tension rolled into the room like fog over the Pacific coast. Craig wasn’t sure if the women had picked up on it, but he had.

And the maid of honor hadn’t even arrived yet.

The waiter, a tall, lanky gentleman dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, carried a silver tray with a variety of appetizers. He stopped and offered Craig his choice.

Craig took a crab-stuffed pastry puff and a napkin. “Thank you.”

The doorbell gonged again, and this time Craig volunteered to answer, hoping for a reprieve but not expecting one. On the way to the entry, he glanced at his watch and wondered how long this evening would last. Too long, he suspected.

When he swung open the door, he was expecting to see Kristy, but his jaw nearly dropped to the ground at the sight of a stunning, red-haired beauty standing before him in a classic black dress and pearls, her curls swept up in a stylish swirl.

“There were several cars already parked out front,” she said, “so I hope I’m not late.”

Even her voice held an elegant lilt tonight, and he struggled to shake off the pulse-skittering effect by stepping aside to allow her in.

“Actually,” he said, “you’re right on time.”

Her heels clicked on the travertine flooring in the foyer, while her perfume—an exotic, tropical scent—followed her into the house. As they walked to the living room, where the others waited, he couldn’t help casting another glance her way.

He hoped she didn’t think he was ogling her, but he couldn’t seem to get over her metamorphosis from the tired waitress he’d met two Wednesdays ago or the single mother he’d run into at the park.

Would it be appropriate for him, as a minister and practically a stranger, to tell her how pretty she looked?

He suspected it would be, but he was afraid he’d stumble over the words like an adolescent on hormone overload. And, strangely enough, as they reached the others, he felt remiss for not complimenting her when he had the chance.

The conversations hushed at her entrance, while drinks and hors d’oeuvres stalled in mid-sip or mid-bite.

Daniel was the first to recover and greet her. And once the formalities were out of the way, he asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please. Diet soda if you have it.”

“I’m sure we do.”

As Daniel excused himself, Brad approached Kristy, a grin stretched across his face. “Hey, it’s good to see you. How long has it been?”

“Five or six years, I suppose.”

Brad’s smile bore a hearty sign of male appreciation. “They were certainly good to you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The years,” he said. “They’ve been good to you.”

She seemed to stiffen.

“You’ve always been hot,” he explained, “but now you’re almost breathtaking.”

She thanked him, but the words fell flat.

Craig could see why they would, though. A guy who was engaged to be married shouldn’t tell another woman she was hot and breathtaking, even if she was.

It was weird, but Craig had this odd compulsion to take Kristy by the hand and lead her away from the Rensfield heir.

And away from this dinner party.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Kristy said to Brad. “You certainly scored when Shana agreed to marry you.”

“I know.”

While Craig tried to connect the dots between the words spoken and those omitted, Brad’s mother called her son to her side.

He shrugged and threw up his hands in a Hey-what’s-a-guy-supposed-to-do? manner. “If you’ll excuse me …?”

“Of course.” Kristy turned to Craig, and her gaze seemed to latch on to his as though she was trying to stay afloat.

He wished that he could somehow help, but he didn’t know how or even why he should. So he filled the silence by asking, “How’s your grandmother?”

“She’s doing all right. I hired a new sitter tonight, so I can’t stay long.”

“I was hoping for an early evening myself.” He didn’t explain, didn’t think he had to.

“You know,” she said, “I meant to call you today.”

She did? His pulse rate spiked. “Why?”

“The new sitter’s name is Renee, and she said you knew her and would be a reference. From what I understand, she’s a volunteer at the soup kitchen.”

Before he could ponder a truthful response that wouldn’t hurt Renee’s chance of employment, Daniel returned with Kristy’s diet soda and announced that dinner was ready.

“After you.” Daniel motioned for Kristy to lead the way to the dining room, where the table had been artistically set with fine china, crystal, and silver.

A vase of tropical flowers served as a centerpiece and was flanked by white tapered candles, each flame flickering and adding an elegance and warmth to the formal occasion.

“Pastor?” Daniel asked. “Would you say grace?”

Craig nodded, then bowed his head, making the prayer both short and sweet. When he finished, the waiter served Caesar salad and the meal began.

The conversation was a little too polite and stiff for Craig’s taste, but he figured it was par for the course for everyone else.

As the waiter removed the dinner plates, Brad scooted back his seat and asked to be excused. “As much as I’d like to stay, I need to get home and prepare for a moot trial tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Cassandra said, “but I was hoping we could discuss the wedding plans over dessert. Apparently we should have done that over dinner instead.”

Brad placed his napkin on his plate and stood. “I’m sure you don’t need me here for that. I’m going to be busy until after I take the bar, so I’ll go along with anything Shana wants.”

As Daniel walked Brad to the door, Darla Rensfield turned to Cassandra and said, “We can still discuss the wedding plans. Have you checked with the country club yet?”

“Yes, I have.” Cassandra smiled and settled back in her seat. “I’ve locked in the twenty-fourth of August. It’s a Saturday
evening. Shana and Brad can have the ceremony outdoors. There’s a pond on number ten with a pair of weeping willows that would make a lovely backdrop.”

“How many guests can the club hold?” Darla asked.

“Four hundred.” Cassandra bit her bottom lip, then glanced across the table at Darla. “Do you think they will be able to accommodate everyone?”

“I hope so.”

Kristy lifted her linen napkin and dabbed her lips before laying it next to her plate. “Shana wants a small, intimate wedding, so there won’t be a seating problem.”

“Shana mentioned that, but we have a lot of friends and associates who must be invited.” Cassandra turned to Brad’s mother. “Don’t worry, Darla. I’ve always been able to get my daughter to see reason. The Rensfield-Delacourt wedding will be talked about for years.”

“I’m sorry to object,” Kristy said, her voice stern yet maternal. “But this is Shana’s day, and her wishes need to be honored. If Brad were here, I’m sure he’d agree.”

Silence hovered over the table, and Craig wanted to say something, to nod in agreement. But who was he to get involved? George had been the Delacourts’ pastor for years and would undoubtedly be performing the ceremony. Craig was merely a houseguest and one who really shouldn’t even be at this dinner tonight.

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Like I said, Darla, I’ll be talking to Shana. She’s a reasonable young woman, so I’m sure she’ll concede.”

“She won’t give in on this,” Kristy said.

The silence was almost crippling, and the conversation didn’t start up again until the waiter began serving individual chocolate soufflés. And at that point, the wedding discussion ended completely.

When the dessert plates were being picked up and the waiter was asking if anyone wanted more coffee, Kristy said, “I hate to be rude, but I really need to get home and relieve my
sitter. Thank you so much for a lovely dinner, Mrs. Delacourt. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.” Cassandra prepared to stand. “I’m sorry you have to go, Kristy, but I understand. You have a lot of responsibility for a woman your age. Let me walk you to the door.”

“That’s not necessary, Cassandra.” Craig pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I’ll do it so you can stay with your other guests.”

“Thank you, Pastor.” Cassandra settled back into her seat.

Still, the conversation remained mute until Craig and Kristy left the room.

He escorted her to the door, but rather than stand on the porch and watch her go, he followed her out to her car. “I admired you for making a point and standing your ground. I imagine those women can be formidable in an argument.”

Polite but venomous, he thought.

“I had no choice. It’s what Shana asked me to do. And that’s the only reason I agreed to come here tonight.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“So is she.”

They stood beside Kristy’s car, yet neither of them made a move.

The stars overhead seemed especially bright, but even the magic of the night didn’t hold a candle to the beautiful woman standing next to him.

“I really do have to go,” she said.

He knew she did. And he needed to let her. But he couldn’t seem to say goodnight until she finally did.

“Drive carefully,” he added.

“I will.” She opened the driver’s door, and as she slid behind the wheel, the hem of her dress lifted and provided him a shadowed glimpse of a shapely thigh.

A glimpse he had no business taking.

As he watched her start the car and drive away, he made no attempt to return to the house.

Things aren’t always what they seem around here,
Jesse had told him on his first night in Fairbrook. He suspected the man had been right. So who was Kristy Smith? Who was she
really?

On Saturday evening, at the end of her shift, Kristy changed out of her Irish work garb and removed her purse from the locker. Then she headed for the kitchen and the pub’s rear exit.

She’d left her son and grandmother with Renee again, and even though she’d called a couple of times to check on them, she was still eager to get home.

Apparently, while she’d been at the Delacourts’ for dinner last night, things had gone well. Jason had sung Renee’s praises, and while Gram had more or less humphed and shrugged about the girl, she hadn’t actually complained. So after Kristy had paid Renee, she asked her to return the next day.

A smile had lit the girl’s face and put a spark in her eyes that made her almost look pretty. Kristy suspected that a professional haircut, a splash of makeup, and a new outfit would make a world of difference in her waiflike appearance.

After Renee had left, and while Kristy was putting Gram to bed, she’d asked, “So what did you think of her? Will she work out for us when Barbara moves?”

“She was all right, I suppose. But I didn’t see much of her until right before you got home.”

When Kristy went to get a glass of water before bed, she’d realized why. Renee had scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom, something Kristy hadn’t found the time or the energy
to do lately, especially on nights she got home late and wanted to spend some time with Jason before bedtime.

As she exited the pub, she had to make her way around Bart Osgood, the dishwasher, who was sitting on the back steps, taking a smoke break.

A cigarette that was more ash than tobacco bobbled in the lanky, long-haired man’s mouth when he spoke. “You headin’ home now?”

“Finally.” She unzipped her purse to remove the car keys. “I would have been out of here fifteen minutes earlier, but Sandra was late again. They keep giving her a split shift, which gives her an opportunity to be late twice in one day.”