Mama hurried over to him. They’d gone from hiding their relationship to full disclosure. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a big ol’ bear hug. My mouth fell open as his hand slipped down from the small of her back to her bum. He gave it a good squeeze, nibbled on her neck, and then they backed away from each other. They might as well not have bothered; the electricity in the air between them sizzled.
I straightened my glasses, more nervous habit than anything else, and looked back at the computer. Mama and Hoss were in love. I was happy for her, but I didn’t need to witness their affection.
I scanned the search results, looking for another wedding announcement and skipping the rest. Finally I found it. It was on the second page of the search results. I clicked on it and started to read.
Mr. and Mrs. William Lambert are happy to announce the
engagement of their daughter, Miss Gayle Melinda Smith,
to Mr. Samuel Bradley, son of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Bradley.
A May 28th wedding is planned.
That couldn’t be right. It was July. I checked the date of the announcement. Last year. But Anna said she wanted a Wow! dress for her sister’s wedding. Hadn’t she?
I tried to remember. She’d said her sister would have done anything for a wedding dress from a New York designer, she’d told me this was number three, and that she wasn’t in the wedding. Anna wanted to impress all the people who’d… She started to say something, but had stopped short, changing the topic. All the people who’d done what? Why had she lied about her sister’s wedding?
I pressed the BACK button, which took me to the Google search page, but before I could peruse the links, my thoughts were swept away by a memory of me entering the shop that flashed in my mind. Will had stood at the door, flirting. Gracie had gone inside. Madelyn was snapping pictures, testing the lighting.
In the boutique, Mama walked the sheriff to the front door. As they stepped onto the porch, the sun-warmed air from outside filtered in, visibly flowing through the room like a dancing ribbon. It circled around the armoire, around the lavender plant on the dining table, finally encircling me, wrapping me up in an invisible blanket of comfort.
My thoughts slowed even more until I was seeing the night before in slow motion. I’d charged past Will, on a mission to get Gracie photographed for the brochure. I’d slowed down just long enough to toss my purse down on the coffee table, along with… I gasped. Trudy’s notebook!
Maybe it had fallen and been kicked under the couch or the settee. In an Olympian move, I hurdled down the three steps leading from the landing down to the main room. In two seconds flat, I was on my knees, peering under the paisley couch, then the love seat, then, finally, under the plush settee.
No notebook.
I sat back on my haunches, frowning. What in the devil had happened to it?
That’s when I remembered. Anna Hughes had been in Buttons & Bows the night before.
“She had to have taken it,” I said into my cell phone.
The air between Josie and me was dead silent. “But why would she?”
That was the million dollar question. I had no blessed idea, and I told Josie just that.
“She’s not part of the Margaret Moffette Lea group, so knowing about the dresses doesn’t help her with anything.”
Even if she were part of the pageant, it wasn’t like the dresses were a secret. Why would Anna even care about them? “Her son’s a beau,” Josie said, “but she doesn’t have a daughter.”
“Good point. So something else was in that notebook that Anna wanted.”
“And you’re going to find out what, am I right?” It was a simple question, but a loaded one. We both knew that a murder was hanging over Bliss—and me—again. Everyone was on edge.
“I have to.” Without that notebook, our hands were tied tighter than a bull rope. “We need that book.” Not to mention that I wanted nothing more than to prove my scissors were a random choice of murder weapon, and I wanted to prove once and for all that Mrs. James and I had nothing to do with Macon Vance’s murder. Easier said than done.
“And who knows what else you might discover in it.” Josie was getting to know me pretty well. Pretty soon I wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her.
As Meemaw used to tell me, I was too curious for my own good. “If she took it, it was for a reason. And she had no right.”
“What about the girls?”
“I’m gonna send my mama over. Just have the girls go through their entrance and the introductions. Tell them to be back by four o’clock. It’ll be tight, but we’ll get the final fittings done before the curtain goes up.”
“And you…?”
“I’m heading over to Anna Hughes’s right now to see if I can’t get the notebook back.” And figure out why she took it in the first place.
Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. I grabbed my purse and flew out the door. “Mama, would you go help Josie at the club?” I called, barreling past her and Hoss McClaine.
Their voices tore through the air behind me. “Where’s the fire?” Hoss said, while Mama said, “Of course, but Harlow Jane, where the devil are you goin’?”
I slowed down halfway across the flagstone path leading to the gravel driveway where my old jalopy was parked to look over my shoulder and wave. “Gotta run. Lookin’ for that notebook. Go help Josie, Mama, please!”
Mama stared after me, nodding. A minute and a half later, I was cruising down Mockingbird Lane, away from the square and toward Hickory Creek Road and Anna Hughes’s house.
Bliss was a small town, so it wasn’t long before I was parked in front of the Hughes’s house. Unlike the night of the party, I’d had no trouble finding a spot. For all my bravado to Josie, and my hurried departure in front of Mama and her sheriff boyfriend, my nerves skittered through me like butter in a hot frying pan.
I wasn’t big on confrontation. Walking toward Anna’s front door, I was feeling like a cowboy who was all hat, no cattle. Really, what was I going to say to the woman? I couldn’t very well grab her by the collar and tell her to give back the book, or else.
Tamping down my nerves, I raised my knuckles to the front door, but before they landed in a knock, the door flung open and Buckley and Duane Hughes strode out. Buckley half turned as he started to pull the front door closed behind him.
“Oh!” I backed up before they plowed right into me.
The doctor pulled up short, whipping his head around. The door opened, bringing the bought air, as Meemaw’d always called air-conditioning, wafting out into the Texas heat. “Good grief! You startled me.”
I forced a tense smile. I’d been prepared to see Anna at the front door, not the doctor, and it threw my mojo off.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I didn’t notice you drive up.” He peered over my shoulder as if he couldn’t believe he’d missed seeing the truck parked on his horseshoe driveway.
“Anna stopped by my shop last night, but I was too busy to talk dress design for her sister’s wedding. Hey, Duane,” I said, lifting my hand in a wave.
“Hi, Ms. Cassidy.”
Turning back to Buckley, I asked, “Is she here?”
The doctor stared at me, his brows pulled together. “Her sister’s wed—”
“Just chatting about a dress,” Anna said, appearing at the front door. “You know how I hate scrambling at the last minute and feeling like I’m always playing catch-up.”
Buckley’s reaction verified my suspicion. There was no wedding.