Murder on the Bride's Side by Tracy Kiely Read Free Book Online Page A

demanded—demanded!—that her basket only contain pink roses because ‘all other flowers make her sneeze.’ ”
    “On every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, by way of provision for discourse,” I said to no one in particular.
    Bridget’s head swiveled in my direction. “Movie?”
    “Book.”
    “Good to know.” Turning back to Blythe, Bridget folded her arms across her chest. “Simply put, Mother, Ashley is nothing short of a monster.”
    “She’s not a monster. For heaven’s sake, she’s only five.”
    “Leona Helmsley was five once, too.”
    “Bridget! This is exactly what I’m talking about. Please, just try and be patient with her. After all, it’s not exactly her fault. If anything, she’s Karen and Lewis’s creation.”
    “Well, obviously, but they’re a little off themselves. I know she’s your sister, Mom, but really, did you see what she sent for a wedding gift? A gold-plated
toothpick case
! What is that all about?”
    Blythe shook her head in understanding while halfheartedly muttering something about it being an antique. Bridgetcontinued, “In any case, I don’t particularly care if Ashley’s problem is nature or nurture. I just don’t want her pitching a fit in the middle of everything tomorrow. What that child needs is a firm spanking. And if she tries any of her usual stunts tomorrow, I may just take the job upon myself.”
    “That would make for a nice addition to the wedding album,” said Colin with a grin. “The glowing bride smacking around the little flower girl.”
    “You don’t believe in spanking?” asked Bridget.
    “Not until after the wedding,” Colin replied primly.
    “Kinky,” Peter opined.
    “Okay, enough, you two!” said Blythe. “Bridget, just be nice tomorrow. And as it is almost tomorrow, I think the two of you should say good night. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding on their wedding day.”
    Colin stood up with a smile. “Point taken, Mrs. Matthews.”
    Forgetting the extreme height of her heels, Bridget hopped quickly to her feet. The sudden movement wreaked havoc with her balance and she teetered dangerously to one side before Colin grabbed her arm.
    Once steady, Bridget grinned sheepishly at Colin. “Come on. I’ll walk you out,” she said.
    “Yeah, good luck with that,” Graham offered.
    The laughter following this remark died in our throats upon entering the house. Normally, I love the living room at Barton Landing. With its bright yellow walls, blue-and-white-floral-patterned chairs, and charming watercolors by French artists whose names I can never pronounce, the room is cheerful andinviting. But tonight the palpable tension in the room, combined with utter silence, rendered its appeal more on par with a dentist’s surgery chair.
    Roni was curled up in one of the overstuffed armchairs. Her bare feet tucked up underneath her, she serenely sipped a glass of red wine. If she was aware of her in-laws’ animosity, she was doing an excellent job of hiding her emotions. The same could not be said for the rest of the room’s inhabitants. From her high-backed cane chair, Elsie glowered at her daughter-in-law without the slightest attempt at pretense. Anna lay flopped at her feet, her intelligent eyes watchful. Claire absently picked at her stunted fingernails, an overbright smile pasted on her face. She sat nestled in close to David, but I doubt he even registered her presence. He was, to put it bluntly, drunk. His bleary eyes shifted unseeingly around the room and his large frame was slumped so far back into the blue brocade cushions of the couch that he seemed to have been partially swallowed by them. Megan sat away from the group in a small leather armchair next to a large potted fern. She appeared to be reading a book, but she turned no pages. Between the sprawling branches of the fern and the generous folds of her green corduroy dress, she faded from view like the