Pleating for Mercy (32 page)

I thought about how Miriam had said it was her fault Nell had died, and how Nell had been hiding Josie’s ring in a button jar. I stopped rocking again. “Did you tell Nell where Josie’s first engagement ring was? Is
that
how she was able to steal it?”

Her eyes popped wide and she gawked at me. “What?”

“The day she was killed, she hid the ring in the shop. I found it—”

Her voice came out in a faint whisper. “Where is it?”

I held my hand up, stopping her. “It’s safe.” I didn’t add it was in Meemaw’s safekeeping. I suspected Meemaw hadn’t known what Nell was up to, thus the rogue leg and shattered mason jars. But as I’d finished the bulk of Josie’s dress, I’d recounted aloud everything about the murder case, hoping she was listening.

“She was hiding it for me,” Miriam said. “
I
stole the ring.”

I tried not to react, keeping my rocking chair rhythm steady. Whatever I’d expected, it hadn’t been Miriam copping to a jewelry theft.

“I gave it to Nell to hold and now she’s dead.”

“But you’re the only one who knew Nell had the ring, besides Nate, right? And he wasn’t in Bliss when Nell was killed—”

She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “All I want is to keep Holly safe. If anything happens to her . . .”

I squeezed her hand, willing enough strength into her to get through the wedding. “It won’t, Miriam. Just tell me who—”

She looked through me, like she was looking into the past. “It’s not Nate. It was never Nate,” she said.

“Diamonds,” Miriam said.

“A girl’s best friend,” I said.

She said, “Nate.”

I said, “Innocent.”

It felt like we were playing a word-association game. Either that or rewriting the lyrics to that old 1970s song “Undercover Angel.” She said, “Derek.” I said, “Shiver.” I still couldn’t believe I’d dated him, even briefly. It was better left forgotten.

She said, “Diamonds” again.

I said, “What about them?”

“This is going to sound crazy, I know, but hear me out.” She took a deep breath before saying, “I think Derek is using the family company to illegally import diamonds.”

She could have hit me with a wispy yard of organza and sent me flying clear to East Texas. The Kincaids were oil tycoons, for pity’s sake. Diversification of a stock portfolio was one thing, but going from black gold to conflict diamonds when you were already billionaires? I almost laughed.

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

She launched into the story. “I was at Nate’s office a few weeks ago for a board meeting. Holly had to stay after school, but she’d lost her cell phone and I hadn’t replaced it yet. I gave her mine so she could call me at home when she was ready to be picked up. Anyway, I went to Nate’s office a little early to talk to him about this idea I had to open a bookstore. I wanted Nate to invest in it.”

“Right. I heard your dad talking to Will Flores about it at the party the other night.”

“Nate was tied up with his secretary, so I waited in his office. His cell was on the desk and he got a text. I thought it might be Josie, but it was from Derek.”

She shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it.

“What did it say?”

“It was cryptic, but he basically said that it was too late for them to stop the next shipment and that Nate was an idiot if he thought it was going to be easy to get out.”

“And you think he was talking about diamonds?”

She nodded, falling silent as a couple of kids ran past the porch, their parents strolling behind them. “I didn’t have much time, but I scanned some of Nate’s old texts. He and Derek went back and forth over the size of the first diamond Nate had put into a ring, and then argued about how to get the second diamond. Nate asked when the next shipment was scheduled and where it was coming from. I’ve been researching how it’s done,” she continued. “Someone acts as a dealer. That person sells them to another dealer across two countries’ borders. Eventually they end up here. Diamonds can be exported from one country to another. A dealer doesn’t have to show where they came from, only certification from the country they’re leaving at that moment. Nate didn’t kill Nell, but he and Derek are in deep.”

I couldn’t tell her what I was thinking—that Nate was probably scheming to blow the whistle on the operation. The night Nell was killed, that had to be what he’d been working on. “And if Nate didn’t kill Nell, you think that—”

“Derek did.”

She got up and paced the porch. “They’re my brothers. I know you must think it’s warped, but how can I turn them in? It’ll kill my mother. It’ll ruin the family name. And the wedding—” She collapsed into the rocking chair again.

At least now I understood why she’d dropped out of the wedding party, but it didn’t help me figure out how she should handle this.

“Nell always seemed to ‘get’ my family. I could talk to her and she’d understand. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked her. She told me that everything would work out. She said she’d hold on to the ring for me while I figured out what to do.”

“And you think Derek found out?”

She nodded. “And if my brother wants something, especially something he thinks is his, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

A chill crept up my spine. I wondered if doing whatever it took this time included murdering Nell.

Mama showed up at the shop door and prevented us from any further discussion of the Kincaid family. She back-combed Miriam’s hair, giving it just the right amount of Texas volume. Meanwhile I finished the side seams of her dress, helping her into it when her hair and face were done.

She looked in the mirror, and I watched that sense of peace visibly flow through her. “It’s beautiful.”

The mint green linen, cut with a slight flare at the hem, had turned out exactly as I’d envisioned it. It brought out her Irish heritage, the rusty highlights in her hair vibrant and bold.

I sighed, relieved, knowing that my charm was working its magic with Miriam. She wanted peace. That’s what I’d given her. Whatever happened, it would all be okay for her. I hoped.

By the time she left, Mama and I had less than thirty minutes to make ourselves presentable for the wedding. “I’ll see you there,” she said, hurrying out the door to get herself ready. I took the stairs two at a time, speeding through a shower in record time, pulling my wild hair into a slightly less wild updo, and shimmying into my all-time-favorite shapewear slip.

With no time to deliberate, I chose the first dress I saw in my closet, an off-the-rack navy-and-white number that looked a little like the outfit Debbie Reynolds wore in
Singin’ in the Rain
. I grabbed hold of the hanger, but instead of coming off the closet rod, it didn’t budge. “What the—” I tried again. Stuck like glue.

It didn’t take long to realize why. “Meemaw! I don’t have time for this.”

Just like before the Kincaid Family Foundation gala, the clothes in my closet suddenly slid back and forth along the rod. It felt like we were on a rocking ship, the clothes sliding to the right as the boat tipped to starboard, crashing to the left as it lurched to port.

I lunged, reaching into the fray, trying to grab hold of a dress. Any dress. The wedding was going to start in twenty minutes! But each time I almost got hold of one, thinking I’d won the battle, the hullabaloo in the closet snowballed and I was forced to stagger back. “Loretta Mae Cassidy,” I said, stomping my bare foot on the cool hardwood floor. “Are you
trying
to make me late?”

The chaos in the closet stopped, but of course there was no answer. She made the pipes moan and fluttered curtains when it suited her, not when it suited me. But a chiffon floral print dress, courtesy of a Maximilian surplus sale, slipped off its hanger and fell to the floor.

I was too tired to think, anyway, so I grabbed it and slipped it over my head. It had a five-inch empire waist with black accent trim, a faux halter top where the fabric actually draped down the center of the back and reconnected with the waist, and a full skirt. Large lavender, pink, and cream flowers were complemented by touches of coral, green, and a lot of dark gray for contrast. The instant I zipped up the back, I felt flirty and feminine and wondered why I’d never worn it.

I adhered to Heidi Klum’s general philosophy of a garment accentuating either boobs or legs, but not both. I took a quick look in the mirror. The flirty dress hit my legs at midcalf, floating over my hips, long enough to cover the scrapes and cuts still visible on my legs, and while the V neck wasn’t deep, it did just enough to accent my 36Bs.

As I slipped on a pair of strappy lavender sandals, my mind processed everything Miriam had told me. It was so much easier to believe Derek could be responsible, but something about it didn’t feel right. It felt like part of the story was still missing.

I headed for the stairs, stopping short and bolting back to my dresser. I’d wrapped the little velvet jewelry bag in the stack of napkins I’d taken from Seed-n-Bead and had hidden it in my lingerie drawer the night before, but something in my gut told me I shouldn’t let it out of my sight. I grabbed the whole wad, shoved it in my purse, and raced for the hallway. My heels clicked as I hurried down the stairs. I really was late now. Why hadn’t I asked Mama to come pick me up? Why hadn’t I had the battery replaced in Meemaw’s old truck? Without a car, I’d have to walk. I grabbed the doorknob, yanked the door open, and bolted . . . “
Oof!
” . . . right into someone’s chest.

“Whoa. You’ve really got to be more careful,” a playful male voice said, gripping my shoulders, pushing me back slightly. I caught glimpses of a black jacket and slacks, white dress shirt, and solid, faintly metallic forest green tie. A shiver swept over my skin as I looked into the face of the dashing man darkening my doorstep.

Mercy.

“It’s my door,” I quipped, shocked at the flirtatious note in my voice.

“That it is. I thought—” Will stopped in midsentence as he got a good look at me, then let loose a low whistle. “Wow. You look . . . That’s a . . . I mean, wow. You look . . . stunning.”

The heat of his Rhett Butler accent made my heart give a little pitter-patter.

“I thought you might need a ride,” he said.

Aha, now I understood the drama in my bedroom. Meemaw had
wanted
to keep me here, though how she’d known Will was coming by was a mystery. The ceremony was set to start in two minutes. I grabbed my clutch and slammed the door behind me. “I’d love a ride.”

I tapped my foot impatiently as he got behind the wheel. The Catholic church was only a few blocks away, but it felt like hours. “Where’s Gracie?” I asked when I realized we were alone.

“She wanted to be there early to help Holly with the flower girl bit.” He bit his lip like he was keeping a secret.

I smiled, the coil of nerves in my stomach untwining a bit. “What?”

“Miriam dropped the sewing machine off after the funeral. Gracie’s been staying up late every night working. You’ve inspired her.”

I swelled with pride. “Really? What’s she making? Is she using a pattern? Tell me everything!”

“Whoa. I have no idea. She dragged the bins into her room and went to town. As long as she’s not working on her own wedding gown, we’re good. I want her thinking about graduating from high school and college, not white dresses and veils.”

“Good plan.”

Not a soul was in sight as we pulled up to the church. No surprise there, since the ceremony was probably already starting. We hurried through the double doors into the vestibule. “There you are! Where have you been? Never mind!” Ruthann grabbed me by the arm, wrenching me away from Will’s side. “We need your help. The veil Josie got was supposed to go with her first dress. It doesn’t work with this one!”

The veil! We hadn’t tried it on with the dress yesterday. I kicked myself at the oversight.

I threw an apologetic look over my shoulder at Will as Ruthann hauled me off. He lifted his hand in a motionless wave. Maybe it was my imagination, but he looked disappointed.

Ruthann dragged me into the bridal room off the side of the vestibule. Karen and her husband stood just outside the doorway. She looked beautiful in her dress, glowing with a confidence I hadn’t seen in her up till now. She gave Ted a dreamy smile, which he returned with a kiss. Score one for dreams coming true.

He headed off to the sanctuary and Karen followed me into the room. Talk about bedlam. The room looked like a tornado had spun out of control, destroying everything in its path, except Josie. She stood smack in the center of the room, the skirt of her gown fanned out around her, looking serene amid the chaos.

“She’s here!” Ruthann announced.

I tossed my clutch aside as Miriam handed me the veil. We locked eyes for just a minute, silent encouragement passing between us.

Josie’s gown, with its silk and pleats and hand beading, was classic and ethereal. The veil was poufy and looked like it belonged with a prairie wedding dress.

I set to work reconstructing it, clearing out a space on the floor and laying it down. “Scissors,” I said, like a surgeon requesting a scalpel.

Someone immediately put a pair in my hand. I cut the tulle to elbow length, removing the second layer. I cleaned up the edges and stood. “Bobby pins.”

The bridesmaids were like highly trained OR nurses. Bobby pins magically appeared in my hand. I spun Josie around. Her hair was pulled back into a doughnut-sized bun, wispy strands of loose hair framing her face. I pinned the veil underneath the mound of hair on the back of her head, letting it cascade artfully down her back.

“Perfect!” Karen said.

Ruthann squealed.

We turned at the knock on the door. Josie’s mom came into the room. She fanned herself with her hand. “You look beautiful, m’ija,” she said in her thick Spanish accent.