Veiled in Death Read online

  But I decided to contact the Smithsonian, just in case. I was only opening what could be a giant can of worms at Doug’s suggestion. I had conferred with my stepdad via cell phone before I’d gone to sleep. He said that between Truman and the Port Quincy Police and the venerable Smithsonian Institution, it would all be sorted out soon. And hopefully without Helene’s input.

  I called the Smithsonian at the respectable hour of nine a.m., fueled by a giant mug of gourmet coffee. Doug had given me the name of an actual contact, passed along by the Quincy College archivist. I giggled as I dialed the number, thankful for the lead. I wondered what the Smithsonian would have said if I’d called their general operator line, yammering on about a possibly famed Betsy Ross veil.

  But it didn’t seem to matter that I had a real historical specialist’s contact and extension. The woman I spoke to seemed keen to blow me off. She took down my information quickly, if not unkindly. She said she’d look into it and got off the phone in the span of two whole minutes. I knew she’d given me the short shrift, but the information was heartening. The veil must not be a Betsy Ross creation after all. And the Smithsonian must have all kinds of wackadoodles calling, claiming to have important pieces of Americana tucked away in attics and basements that they wanted verified as the real deal.

  Imagine my surprise when my cell blared a half hour later with a D.C. area code. It was a different specialist at the Smithsonian who seemed keenly interested that the veil had been discovered in Port Quincy, Pennsylvania. The man on the phone peppered me with questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. He bid me a curt goodbye, but he couldn’t hide the excitement in his tone.

  Darn it. Maybe there is something to Helene’s claim.

  But Helene also liked attention and people kowtowing to her. I wouldn’t put it past her to aggrandize the veil’s provenance and history for her own gain. Keith, too, for that matter. I already knew their games from solving an earlier mystery that Keith’s biological grandfather was the Thistle Park gardener, not a prominent attorney as the family had claimed. Helene was obsessed with inheritance and one’s place in this world being influenced by family connections and heirlooms. Claiming that the pretty swath of lace had been crafted by Betsy Ross would be right up her alley.

  But it probably wasn’t even a real Betsy Ross–crafted artifact. Until proven otherwise, I would consider it to be just a neat swath of lace. Keith was pretty firm in his convictions. But even if it turned out to be a nameless piece of fabric, I wasn’t sure I wanted to wear it now. And certainly not for my wedding. The lace seemed cursed with bad juju from Helene. Now the pretty lace sundress from the Antique Emporium moved front and center in my mind. I relaxed as I focused on the future. Maybe my mom and Bev were right, and I should even move up my wedding.

  I had a crazy thought as I refilled my mug of coffee. Maybe it was time to move. I could create a nice separation from the zany things happening at my B and B by creating a different space where Garrett, Summer, and I could cultivate a safe home. A place a small distance away. I thought about converting the greenhouse, carriage house, or even the giant shed on the property into a new abode.

  I wondered with a start how my sister would feel. She was spending a lot of time with her new beau, Miles. She was barely home as it was. I wondered if she’d miss my presence in Thistle Park. Despite our busy days working together at our business and the equally busy moments off from work that we spent largely apart, Rachel and I usually ended each day with a chat before bed or a shared dinner with our parents. I wondered how moving out would change our sisterly dynamic.

  And despite avoiding the conversation about whether we’d continue to grow the little family I was soon to form with Garrett and Summer, we had waded into the tetchy waters of where to live. I gave a little laugh about my fretting over leaving Thistle Park, when Garrett and I had already decided we weren’t going to set up our new homestead on the third floor. It wouldn’t be great for Summer to spend her high school years in a bustling wedding venue.

  I made a promise to begin the discussion with Garrett as soon as possible. I might be channeling Goldilocks too much, but I vowed to find a space that would work for Garrett, Summer, and me to start our lives together as an official family unit.

  I finally made it to my office and jiggled the handle with a start.

  “Just a minute.” My sister opened the door, but only a mere inch. “Yes?”

  “What’s up? I’d like to come in and document on my laptop the call I had with the Smithsonian.”

  Rachel shook her head and I heard another voice giggle from within the office.

  “Pia and I are working on something top secret. Now shoo.” Rachel summarily shut the door. I did a huffy about-face and began my work straightening up the B and B. A tiny stab of jealousy rippled through me as I imagined Pia and Rachel working on a project without me, Pia perhaps temporarily ensconced at my desk.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  I’d nearly fought a death match with my sister to get her to even consider Pia for an interview. And less than twenty-four hours later, the two of them were thick as thieves, working on something so that I could focus on other matters. It was ludicrous that I was feeling shut out, even though Rachel had literally shut me out of our shared office. I felt a tiny prick of hope. It was a good sign that my sister and Pia were getting on so well. My instincts in the Antique Emporium had been correct. So what if Pia and Rachel were already starting a new project? I’d take it as a sign that Pia was a great fit and would help us grow our business while also lightening the load for Rachel and myself. I shrugged at my earlier concern and returned to the work I could do outside of my office, hoping their surprise project was something good in store.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Rachel and Pia made good on their pledge to share their surprise. I answered the front door of the B and B to greet my gorgeous fiancé, who swooped down for a long and languorous kiss.

  “Why hello to you, too.” I smiled up at Garrett. He managed to look crisp and cool in a gray wool suit, even in the humidity of June.

  “I came as soon as your sister texted me.” A slight frown did nothing to mar his lovely features. His hazel eyes turned serious. “Is everything alright? She said to hurry.”

  I let out a laugh. “I hope you didn’t drop something important. Rachel and our new hire, Pia Battles, have a surprise. They locked me out of the office earlier this morning, then forbade me from even coming down from the third floor.”

  A look of relief and mirth commingled in Garrett’s expression. He relaxed and slung his arm around me, drawing me close. “You’ve piqued my interest. I wonder what they have in store?”

  “It’s the best gift I didn’t even know I needed. You and I are here for our very own wedding planning meeting, where we’ll attend as guests and clients, not the planners.”

  Garrett’s smile grew bigger. “That’s fantastic news. And now that the weight of planning our wedding has been taken off of your shoulders, maybe we could even move up the big day.”

  My eyes grew wide at his suggestion that I’d been pondering myself just a few hours ago. We really were in sync. I let out a breath of air I didn’t know I’d been holding in. Suddenly the prospect of talking about what our family might look like someday seemed a bit less daunting. “It could be a possibility. We’ll have to ask our wedding planners.” I giggled at the reality that I really and truly wasn’t going to plan my own wedding, no matter when it took place. But someone who should also weigh in on the decision was missing. “Where’s Summer?” I glanced behind my beau, expecting to see Garrett’s daughter.

  “She’s working on her booth for Cordials and Cannonballs.” Garrett gave a fond smile. “She’s turning into quite the history buff. She begged for an extra five minutes of time and told me she’d bike over.” His warm expression dimmed by a degree. “Although I think the real draw of working on that booth is a certain older guy, not the task at hand.”

  I giggled and
gave my fiancé’s arm a squeeze. “Who’s the lucky guy?” Then I felt a rush of motherly concern that was both surprising and natural. “And wait—how much older are we talking?”

  Garrett sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “A year and a half. One whole high school grade.” He paused and seemed to spit out the name. “Preston Mitchell.”

  “Bev’s son?” I let out a sigh of relief. “He’s a good egg, Garrett. You have nothing to worry about.” Bev’s lanky teenage son was a star baseball player and constantly on the honor roll, as his mother was happy to report. I couldn’t think of a better crush for Summer.

  “You’re probably right,” Garrett gruffly agreed. “I just wasn’t ready for this new phase of her life where she’s seriously interested in boys. I feel like she’s growing up at lightning speed.”

  I reached up to brush a strand of hair back into place, and he dipped down for another impetuous kiss.

  “Ew. Knock it off, you two.” Summer breezed through the door and hung her bike helmet on the coat rack. “Just kidding. Hi, Mallory.”

  I gave my soon-to-be stepdaughter a hug, marveling that at fourteen she was already half a foot taller than I was. I peeked around her to silently confer with Garrett. I knew we both wondered how much of our conversation Summer had heard.

  “What are we waiting for?” Summer eagerly peered into the office door, opened barely an inch.

  I shrugged and made a move to go in.

  “Hold on a second, Mallory.” Garrett gestured toward the door. “We’re technically the clients, for once. We should wait to go in.”

  I giggled at the formality, and Garrett, Summer, and I waited on a small divan outside of the office until Pia and Rachel ushered us in minutes later with great fanfare.

  “Sit here, you two.” Rachel guided us to the aptly named loveseat where we placed each couple. It felt bizarre to view my office from the client seat. Summer sat next to us and eagerly awaited Rachel and Pia’s plans. I gave an involuntary start when Pia took the rose-and-trellis patterned chair I usually sat in to conduct client meetings.

  My mother and stepfather breezed into the room, and finally Lorraine, Garrett’s mom, made her entrance. “I’m so thrilled you two are setting a date and making it official!” Lorraine dropped a kiss on my cheek and pulled back with an impossibly large grin, leaving a waft of snickerdoodles in her wake. She settled down next to her granddaughter and eagerly awaited the start of this meeting.

  “A full house,” I murmured to Garrett, suddenly nervous.

  “Ahem.” Rachel cleared her throat, revealing a frisson of nerves. She’d pitched wedding ideas before, and she’d never seemed tentative or flummoxed. Maybe it was being at the official helm of planning my big day, and presenting her ideas to our assembled families that heightened the stakes. “Thank you all for coming. I’d like to introduce you all to our new assistant, Pia Battles.”

  Pia sent everyone a smile and a wave from her perch on my chair. “Mallory, I hope you and Garrett like the suggestions we’ve put together for your wedding and reception.”

  And with that they were off to the races. Pia turned on her tablet and began a short presentation of ideas that showed up on the large flat-screen TV we kept concealed in an antique armoire, only brought out to show larger groups our proposed plans. Rachel and Pia took turns guiding us through a fall wonderland of rustic colors and textures.

  “We chose a palette that will be more neutral and malleable. The main colors will be a cool sage green and cream with some yellow and silver accents.” Pia displayed a trellis draped with light green fabric.

  “We’ll accent with pieces that celebrate the outdoors for a brief ceremony in the crisp weather.” Rachel pointed out the wind chimes hanging from the trellis and back porch, as well as subtle fall pops of color achieved by spheres crafted from rust and pumpkin-orange mums hanging from the trellis and back porch ceiling. “We’ll have a fire pit going for guests that want to continue hanging out in the cool air, with pumpkin s’mores and hot apple cider.”

  “And inside the mansion, we’ll continue the sage-green palette with accents of orange and rust.” Pia took in our approving nods and oohs and aahs. It was a gorgeous and unexpectedly simple yet chic display. I felt a weird mixture of pride, gratefulness, and a strange sprinkle of unease as I realized my sister and Pia had whipped up a beautiful and innovative plan in less than twenty-four hours.

  Pia sent me a shy smile, snapping me out of my mental wallowing. “And these colors would work for other seasons, too, if you were considering moving the time frame.”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” My mother burst out her exuberant approval of that idea to the chorus of laughter from everyone else. “I mean, your wedding date is totally up to you two,” she amended with a blush.

  Garrett sent me a wink and squeezed my hand. I wasn’t too sure how serious he’d been about moving up the wedding, but it seemed like everyone was game.

  “We love it.” I gestured toward the screen and brushed a tear from the corner of my left eye. “I didn’t know I’d get so emotional. This is usually just business.”

  My sister crossed the room and gathered me up in a hug. “Your wedding would never be just business.”

  “Thanks, Rach, and thank you, Pia. I think I speak for all of us when I say you really blew us away.”

  I was pleased with the cozy and less formal affair they’d designed. The wedding could focus on Garrett and Summer and me, and the joining of our family with friends and loved ones. In a few short years of planning, I’d seen it all. Weddings with massive ice sculptures and choreographed first dances. My sister had toiled to bake and sturdily assemble seven-tiered cakes, and I’d tentatively superglued real rubies onto slippers the night before a ceremony. My wedding, in contrast, would be gorgeous, but a bit pared down.

  “As a stager, I can see how you want your own shindig to be a bit more minimalist.” My mom gave grudging approval of the work Rachel and Pia had done. I reached across the low coffee table and gave my mom’s hand a squeeze. And I realized with a start that Rachel and Pia’s lightning fast planning had swiftly and diplomatically cut my mother out of the loop, preventing her from making my nuptials a re-creation of her most beloved staging ideas.

  Good one, Rach.

  I didn’t want my mom to have all the power, but she wasn’t done just yet.

  “And we’ll have to find you a dress befitting this pretty and elegant design.” My mother’s eyes lit up at being able to helm that duty. “I think there are some stores we can visit in Pittsburgh or even Cleveland or Philadelphia that will have something just sophisticated enough to match Rachel and Pia’s plans for your wedding.”

  Anywhere but Bev’s store right here in Port Quincy.

  “I was thinking of something simple and satin,” I began, wondering how I’d maneuver my way through this potential quagmire. “And I want to make planning as stress-free as possible.” There. I’d start by appealing to my mother’s sense of empathy. “Pia is a fantastic addition to our team. A team we expanded because Rachel and I have been ludicrously busy with our growing business. I really would prefer to look for a dress here in town.”

  The vision of the pretty lace sundress from the Antique Emporium floated up unbidden from some recess in my brain. I batted away the thought and focused on Carole. She’d puckered her lips as if she’d taken a healthy bite of a lemon. We all watched her wrestle with her emotions. Summer giggled behind a throw pillow.

  “Fine.” My mother nearly spat out her consent. “We can take a little trip to Silver Bells to get some ideas. Though I bet you won’t find anything there even half as lovely as what you need.”

  Phew.

  My mom talked a big game, but I knew she’d be professional when the time came to select a dress. Everyone would win. Rachel and Pia would plan the big day with a bit of help from my mom, and Bev would work well in her own wheelhouse, providing me with a dress. My stepfather sent me a quick wink.

  “At least you alr
eady have your veil.” My mother was happy that Bev couldn’t assist in selecting my entire look.

  I shuddered at the thought. “I don’t think I want to wear it anymore.”

  Summer nodded. “Now that Helene Pierce ripped it, you’d need an exorcism performed on that veil.” The room collapsed into gales of laughter, all but Lorraine, who seemed a bit shocked by her granddaughter.

  A timer went off in some distant part of the house, and Pia clapped her hands together with glee. “It’s time to talk about the food!”

  Rachel and Pia had outdone themselves. They returned to the office with carts full of mini plates laden with a sumptuous fall feast. There were tasting portions of pumpkin–sweet potato soup, roasted root veggies, tender slices of beef and lamb. My eyes grew wide at the sumptuous feast. We all murmured our appreciation and were about to tuck in. My sister and Pia must have kept the doors to the kitchen shut to keep the yummy smells from drifting out.

  “Too bad there’s so much meat.” Summer muttered her critique in a small voice. “There are so many meatless options you could incorporate instead.”

  “Now, Summer—” Garrett began to respond when Rachel jumped up. “I forgot the last tray! I’ll be right back.” She returned with a last domed silver tray and whipped off the top with a flourish. She gave Summer’s arm a warm squeeze. “I’ve got you covered, sweetie. Here’s some harvest eggplant parmesan, but with vegan nut brie toasted and shaved instead of traditional cow’s milk parmesan. And roasted root veggies with coconut oil instead of butter.”

  “Yes!” Summer pushed away her offensive meat-laden first plate and took a bite. She closed her eyes and sighed. “This is to die for. And it would be good for a summer wedding, too.” She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned as we all laughed. “Seriously, though. What are we waiting for?”