Till Death Do Us Purl by Anne Canadeo Read Free Book Online Page B

could remark.
    Lucy quickly took in the black-and-white marble tile floor below and sparkling crystal chandelier above. Attendants took the guests’ coats and directed them to the gallery where the ceremony would take place.
    The gallery, just to the right of the foyer, was a vast room with long windows on one side, covered by swooping brocade drapes. A large fireplace and carved marble mantel was the focal point opposite. The walls were covered with oil paintings in heavy gilt frames and pedestals displayed sculptures in various styles.
    “Look at all this art. I feel like one of the kids talked me into volunteering for a field trip,” Suzanne whispered.
    “Jeremy’s mother, Patricia Moore, is a well-known collector and philanthropist,” Maggie whispered back. “I guess when his parents divorced, they had to share custody of the masterpieces.”
    Lucy imagined that the room was normally filled with couches and armchairs and horrendously expensive little antique tables. But all the furniture had been cleared for rows and rows of white cushioned folding chairs that faced the far side of the room. An arch of beautiful tropical flowers and a speaker’s podium hadbeen set up on that end for the ceremony.
    Suzanne squeezed Lucy’s arm in excitement. “It’s so beautiful. I’m going to cry.”
    “Suzanne . . . give me a break. We haven’t even sat down,” Phoebe said. Lucy smiled in disbelief.
    “I know. I can’t help it.” She sniffed and shrugged.
    They were lucky to find five seats together, in one of the rear rows. Suzanne angled for the aisle, pulling a camera out of her black satin clutch. “We need some photos, for Maggie’s bulletin board.”
    It clearly meant so much to her to be closest to the bride when she walked by. No one dared deny her the pleasure. A trio of musicians—a violinist, cellist, and flutist—stood to one side of the flower arch and played a familiar classical piece.
    Lucy sat back and glanced at the program she’d been handed as they walked in. The ceremony looked brief and to the point. Not much music, or miscellaneous readings by relatives on the schedule. Lucy was relieved. She did find it annoying when it seemed everyone in the family had to get up and say a few words.
    The musicians paused, then suddenly they began a baroque piece that signaled the procession was about to begin. All the guests stood as Nora came down the aisle on the arm of one of the ushers. “Nora looks beautiful,” Dana said quietly. They all nodded in agreement. With her hair and makeup professionally done, Nora looked surprisingly glamorous. Her long, flowing chiffon dress, in a dark plum hue, complemented the bridal party.
    “Look, there’s Jeremy’s mother,” Maggie whispered. A tall,elegant woman appeared next, escorted by the groom. Their resemblance was striking. She wore a dark blue satin gown that emphasized her blue eyes. Her thick glossy hair was worn in a smooth, upswept style, a lock of white in stark contrast to the dark brown shade she and her son shared.
    After Patricia was seated, Jeremy took his place at the flower arch, tugging on his shirt cuffs. He looked quite nervous. Understandably, Lucy thought. Two groomsmen stood by, but Lucy couldn’t tell which was the best man. The program did not indicate it, either.
    Her friends suddenly turned to watch the next couple walking down the aisle. Lucy did, too.
    “This has to be his father . . . and the trophy wife,” Dana murmured.
    “The second trophy wife, I understand,” Maggie whispered back.
    “It’s hard to know the players without a scorecard. At least Nora gave you a briefing,” Lucy whispered back.
    “A few remarks here and there,” Maggie conceded.
    Philip Lassiter was a tall man, broad shouldered with a full head of unnaturally dark hair and artfully silver sideburns. He had thick eyebrows and a closely trimmed beard. He looked as if he was once very fit, but his tuxedo jacket tugged a bit against a round stomach, and