For Better or Hearse by Laura Durham Read Free Book Online

Trays of open-faced tea sandwiches and miniature pastries surrounded the flowers and were the focus of the oohs and aahs coming from the guests. It was hard to see any reason for Richard’s anxiety. Then again, Richard didn’t need a reason.
    He arched a brow. “Take your pick.”
    I took another look at the guests. “I hate to burst your bubble, but this is a dream event.”
    â€œOh, really?” Richard jerked his head in the direction of the one man in the group, clearly a Father of the Bride who was built like a fire hydrant and wore a dark, double-breasted suit. “Do you have any idea who that is?”
    Kate shook her head. “He doesn’t have the look of a politician.” Kate kept up with politics by dating plenty of political staffers. She may not have known anything about the issues, but she knew which states had the cutest interns.
    â€œI wish he were a politician,” Richard said with a sigh, then lowered his voice and gave me a meaningful look. “He’s in trucking.”
    My eyes widened. “Do you mean…?”
    â€œThe family business.”
    â€œAnd?” Kate looked between the two of us. “I don’tsee the problem with a family-owned trucking company.”
    â€œOrganized crime, Kate,” I hissed.
    â€œOh.” Kate shrugged. “Leave it to D.C. to have an organization for everything.”
    â€œIt’s not an association,” I started to explain, and then thought better of it. “Never mind.”
    â€œMr. Constantino’s daughter, Sophia, is getting married next year, and he wants it to be the wedding of the century.” Richard dabbed at his brow. “I don’t know if I can handle the pressure.”
    â€œYou’re the best, Richard.” I gave his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
    â€œI could end up lying facedown in fresh cement, that’s what.”
    â€œDoubtful. He’s in trucking, not construction.” I grinned.
    Kate nudged him and smiled. “You could end up in a shipment of bananas headed for Canada, though.”
    Richard glared at Kate. “Now I feel much better.”
    â€œThat’s what we’re here for.” Kate fluttered her eyelashes.
    â€œAnd for the free food.” I eyed the tray of scones a waiter set out on the buffet. Richard’s cream scones were heavenly and usually vanished in a matter of seconds. “I don’t have a thing to eat at home.”
    â€œShocking,” Richard drawled as he motioned us into the main room. “I’m going to check on the kitchen.” He spun on his heel and disappeared down the hall.
    â€œDo you think we can get in, eat, and get out without actually having to talk to any brides?” Kate asked.
    â€œAnnabelle Archer?” My name was practically screeched over the conversation, which came to acomplete halt. A mother and daughter in matching pink and green plaid headbands and grosgrain belts ran across the room. Debbie and Darla Douglas. One of my upcoming June brides and her mother.
    Debbie’s wedding to Turner Grant III promised to be an event fit for the son of a Mississippi congressman and the daughter of a country club Lady Who Lunches. Darla had happily turned over all the wedding planning to me once she’d negotiated free-flowing mint juleps and a bourbon-tasting bar for the reception. Darla was my favorite mother of the bride because she was usually too soused to care what went on.
    â€œDebbie and I were hoping we’d see you here.” Darla leaned in for an air kiss, and I tried to avoid getting splashed by her cocktail. Leave it to Darla to procure a martini at an afternoon tea. I wondered if she’d actually brought her own.
    â€œMother and I were discussing your idea of using magnolia leaves everywhere for the wedding.” Debbie gestured with her matching martini. “We think it’s an