McClaine turned to look at me over his shoulder, giving me a quick nod; then he dropped his phone back in his pocket. Over and out.
If Nell suspected that Derek was dealing in illegal diamonds, would she have tried to blackmail him? If she did, and Derek paid, she would have been able to pay back the money she’d borrowed from Karen and Ted to buy the bead shop.
But what if it was more than that? What if Derek had gotten Nell pregnant? It still didn’t explain why she’d lied about never having been to Reata, but she had been horribly wrong if she’d gotten it in her head that she and Derek plus baby made a family. From what Will and Mrs. James had both said, the Kincaids wouldn’t have welcomed a pregnant Nell into their home, Derek’s child or not.
I tried to focus on the wedding ceremony, but Nell’s death skulked in and out of my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking that Nell had risked it all—and lost.
An hour later, the ceremony was over, we’d made our way to the banquet room catty-corner from Bliss’s Opera House on one corner of the square, and I was still unraveling the threads of my tangled thoughts.
The room was an organized sea of round tables covered in white linen tablecloths. Triangular folded napkins, silverware, water goblets, and wineglasses sat at each place setting. Instead of vases filled with cut flowers, fresh Easter lilies in pale green ceramic pots, softened with shimmery white organza ribbon, dressed each table.
The room was festive with white, pale olive green, and lavender helium balloons strategically placed at the entrance, next to the deejay’s speakers, and at either side of the buffet tables. Twinkling white lights edged the exposed beams of the ceiling and dotted the cascading rose trees on the cake table, the buffet table, and around the room.
It was magical—if only it hadn’t been tainted by murder. Josie was effervescent, floating from table to table, Nate by her side. Karen snuggled close to her husband. She’d told me that Nell’s will had been read and she was now partners with Josie. I hadn’t thought she wanted to own the bead shop, but I’d never seen her look happier. Her husband’s adoring gaze probably helped.
Gracie glided up to us wearing a sleeveless dress, a fabric purse slung over one shoulder and cutting a diagonal across her body. “Wasn’t that beautiful?” she gushed.
She reminded me of Liesl in The Sound of Music, ready to break into song and dance. Looking at her, I suddenly realized why. “Did you make your dress?”
She beamed, nodding.
It was a straightforward pattern without any design lines, but she’d constructed it well. She’d used an inexpensive polyester blend. A cotton blend would have worked better for the simple shift, but for her first attempt at an entire dress, and from what Will had said, made in the wee hours of the night, she’d done an amazing job. I hugged her. “It’s fantastic, Gracie.”
Her flush deepened. “Thank you,” she whispered, fingering the long, braided strap of her purse.
“You make the purse, too?”
She nodded, pulling the rectangular bag from her hip to show me. “Isn’t it awesome? It’s like a hippie purse from the seventies.”
“Minus the fringe,” Will said.
Reaching out, I brushed my fingers over the thick weave of the torn fabric braid with its frayed and feathery edges. The pattern was distinct. One of the three strands was significantly wider than the others so the design was lopsided. “Did you weave this yourself?”
She shook her head no. “There was a whole bunch of it in one of the boxes I got from Holly’s mom. It’s, like, flawed, right? Kind of uneven, but that’s why I like it. Cool, huh?”
My breath hitched, half of her words fading to black. “The fabric bins? Miriam gave you those, too?”
Will spoke up. “She said she hasn’t used any of it in years. Probably been sitting in a closet in her house. When she dropped them off, I thought she wanted me to take them to the rummage sale, but then she said she wanted Gracie to have fun and just experiment.”
Gracie grinned. “So I made a purse.”
A thread unwound from the mess of details in my mind, and an idea began to form. I searched the room until I spotted Madelyn Brighton, and waved my arms over my head to flag her down.
Will and his daughter stared at me. “Darlin’, what in the world—”
My wide-eyed look froze the words on his tongue. “Those bins weren’t at Miriam’s house. They were at her parents’ house. Where Derek stays when he’s in town,” I added slowly. “And he’s been in town for almost five weeks.”
“Crap,” he muttered, whispering, “You really think so?”
“Think what?” Gracie asked, flicking her gaze back and forth between me and her dad.
Before we could answer, Madelyn sidled up to us. “Trying for a position with air traffic control, love?”
“Moonlighting as a wedding photographer?”
She raised her voice slightly to be heard above the cacophony of voices. “The man they’d contracted with canceled at the last minute and since Bill and Nate were schoolmates . . .”
“Ah. Got it.”
I took my glasses off and tried to wipe away the smudge, but my fingers trembled with nervous energy. I shoved them back on, looking past the streak. Will laid his hand on my back, infusing me with his calm mojo.
“I’ve been wanting to come by your shop and have you work your magic.” Madelyn gestured up and down her body as if her outfit said it all. “As it is, I was forced to wear the same drab skirt and blouse I always do.” She gave a spastic little laugh. “I will be by, now that you’ve finished the bridal dresses, eh?”
“Anytime,” I said. I already had ideas on what to make for her. Color to bring out the emerald green of her eyes. Something a little less structured. More flowing to match her magic junkie bent. I took a deep breath and got to the point. “Madelyn, do you still have your camera?”
She patted the purse at her side. “Of course.” She set it down on a nearby table.
“Is that a camera bag?” Gracie peeked at the light green interior.
“It’s an Epiphanie,” Madelyn boasted.
“I don’t know what that is,” Gracie said, “but I love it.”
“Only the most stylish camera bag out there. Never would have bought it for myself, but my dear heart does the spectacularly unexpected sometimes.” She stroked the faux leather with affection. “He got it for me the day after the party at the Kincaids’, in fact.”
Gracie peered up at Will with a coquettish smile. “Daddy?”
“Uh, no.” He read the one word like a psychic. “First comes a camera, then a bag. Maybe.”
She rolled her eyes.
Madelyn had taken her Canon out, removed the lens cap, held the camera up, and focused. “Smile,” she directed.
I put my palm out. “Oh, no, not for us,” I said. Her finger depressed a button and the camera clicked.
Too late.
“No?” She lowered the camera and shot me a puzzled look. “You don’t want your picture taken? But you all look splendid together.”
“No—”
Gracie frowned. “We don’t?”
“What I mean is—”
“She means yes,” Will said.
I stared at him. “I do?”
He pulled Gracie next to him and put his arm around my shoulder. “You do.”
Madelyn went into photographer mode. About a hundred pictures later, she finally got one she liked.
Gracie started to wander off, but Will called her back. “Let me hold your purse for you,” he said.
“I got it, Dad,” she said just as Holly called to her from across the room. She held up a cup of sparkling pineapple punch.