Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) (2 page)

“That’s sweet, Tubby. Thank you.” Never mind that the dress was about as comfortable as a potato sack. She didn’t remember it being so itchy when she wore it last year in
Hello, Dolly.
Then again, with no operating budget for her twice-a-year productions, the dress hadn’t been dry-cleaned since.

Alice sighed again. Maybe borrowing a dress from the costume closet wasn’t the best idea, but her alternatives weren’t any better. Wear a frock from the thrift store or drop a bundle on a trip to the city and a dress she’d never wear again. In all honesty, this was hardly the occasion to splurge. She’d have worn black if she thought she could’ve gotten away with it.

Tubby started humming show tunes under his mint-scented breath, and Alice wondered if he recognized the dress. She slipped down in the pew, wishing she could hold her head up high, wanting just once to attend a Mitchell affair without sitting in the back with the outcasts. But Johnny Cramer made sure his daughter knew her place. Even though he died years before Mama, his words rang clear: “When they look at us, all they see is trash, baby. The sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be.”

Yeah? Well, Alice realized it — and she was tired of waiting for the better-off part. All she needed was the grant money, and she’d have a real brick and mortar theatre. She’d know her place then, and everyone else would know her place, too.

Alice Catherine Cramer belonged in the spotlight, not in the audience. She deserved applause, not pity. And with that little pep talk, she smiled, fidgeted again and pressed her back to the uncomfortable pew.

A crinkled hand landed on her leg. “Maybe I’m the only one who thinks it, but that boy’s making a mistake.” Tubby shook his head. “A man should be happy on his wedding day, and he’s not happy.”

Alice blinked. Her mouth fell open, and she almost agreed, but before the words tumbled out, trumpets blasted through the church, and Molly Lunsford, cousin of the bride, tossed a handful of rose petals over the white runner near Alice’s pew. She looked like a cherub with ringlet curls. The crowd oohed and aahed, and the child bowed. After another handful of petals hit the ground, the little girl sprinted down the aisle toward her papa, where he scooped her into his arms and planted a kiss to her cheek.

Sweet.
Alice stole a glance at Justin. Despite the precious child and chuckles from the pews, he was somber, and his misery made her heart hurt. Before she could dwell too much on Justin’s lack of happiness, creampuff bridesmaids strolled past, each one stuffier and stiffer than the next. Alice didn’t know most of them. They were outsiders, Morgan’s friends from a fancy law school in Connecticut, with poufy hair, chandelier earrings and bright pink lips. They looked like the cast of
Willy Wonka
threw up all over the stage.

And then Morgan appeared. The only thing missing was the choir of angels. She was five foot ten with hair of spun silk and a designer dress flown in from France. Whatever the Parrish family had paid for all those layers of lace, they paid too much, Alice thought, smoothing her hand-me-down dress over clenched thighs. She imagined all the overpriced clothes Morgan would buy with the Mitchell family money. What a waste.

The Justin Alice knew wasn’t like that. He spent his money, drove new cars, and owned nice homes, but he gave a lot of his money away, and he looked best in blue jeans and a faded Penn State hat with the brim brushing his neck. Morgan wanted to change him, starting with the push to move to D.C. and the “for sale” sign in Justin’s front yard. If the banshee got her way, Justin would turn into suit-and-tie-wearing Congressman Mitchell full-time and leave Harmony Falls for good.

As much as the thought depressed Alice, his complete transformation was for the best. When Plain Old Justin was around, Alice couldn’t breathe. The lines blurred. He didn’t seem so off limits wearing faded jeans and a crooked smile, and she didn’t feel so unworthy. In those moments, dreams of being together spilled into her days, and she wasted time walking around a fool in unrequited love.

Thankfully, it’d been a long time since Alice had been stuck in the “I love Justin” rut. She was happy with the direction her life was headed. After today, she hoped the rut would be permanently patched. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? Yes, she could. Even if those dreams weren’t likely to come true.

A trumpet blast startled Alice as Morgan floated down the aisle with her nose in the air. Alice refused to fawn over a bratty bride, so she focused on the groom instead. His face lengthened and two shadows slashed his cheeks. There wasn’t an ounce of joy in the man.

Smile, Justin
. Although it would hurt Alice more to see him smile, even the smallest sign of happiness would set her free with the knowledge that at least one of them was getting what they wanted. The idea that he harbored second thoughts pushed her to the edge of the pew.

Smile, Justin
. She willed her thoughts over the terrible trumpeting.

But Justin wilted further. There was no shine, no sparkle, no … tiara.

Alice gasped. What if the tiara in Charlie’s car was Morgan’s? What if they … ? She slapped a hand over her mouth. Charlie had been known to romance anything with the right parts, and Morgan’s parts were in demand. If Charlie had been drunk, it was possible he made a move.

Oh, God.
Alice bit the inside of her cheek. She’d been called a drama queen more times than she could count. Was she being overly dramatic now?

While the Parrish side of the wedding party beamed, the Mitchell side paled. Even Mark, the youngest and goofiest brother, looked worried. And why shouldn’t he be? Everything was wrong. This wasn’t a wedding march, this was a funeral dirge. The black cloud that appeared over Harmony Falls the day Justin’s daddy died had grown into a full-blown storm with Justin directly in its path. And he didn’t deserve to be. He was a good man who spent his days helping everybody else. Now it was time for somebody to help him.

The honorable thought carried Alice to her feet. She gulped a few mouthfuls of air, trying to gain courage. “Stop.” The shaky command travelled a few pews.

Half the church looked at Alice instead of the bride.

“Can I talk to Justin?” Alice spoke louder this time, pushing out of the pew and into the aisle. “It’ll only take a minute. I promise.”

Alice hadn’t heard so many gasps since she fell off the pavilion stage into the shrubs during opening night of
A Chorus Line
. But she kept her eyes on a gaping Justin, and blocked out the rest.

“Daddy, she’s ruining my wedding.”

Mayor Parrish stepped in front of his whining daughter and cut off Alice’s view of the groom.

Alice stopped cold, watching the mayor move closer. “Justin, I … ”

A couple hands wrapped around her upper arms, and Alice felt tugged from behind. “Let’s go, little lady. No time for drama. This here ain’t a thee-a-ter.”

Alice didn’t know whose hands were dragging her from the church. Frankly, she didn’t care. Her character shoes caught on the runner as Mayor Parrish turned to console his daughter, and that was when Alice saw Justin, his mouth still hanging open.

“She’s missing her tiara.” Alice looked away from Justin and over the gaping crowd. “Charlie has it.” Her voice cracked.

“Get out,” Morgan screeched.

The next thing Alice knew, heavy doors shut in her face and Gilbert Hoover plopped her on a cement step. “Go home, little lady. Fix yourself some tea. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

What did Gilbert know about all right? He pumped gas for a living. He lived in a doublewide. The pancake breakfast was his idea of gourmet “eats.” This town was mad, and she was neck-deep in their insanity. Well, no more. It might be honorable to help a man who was making a terrible mistake, but from now on, Alice Cramer was only helping herself.

Justin could marry the banshee. Alice was going home. She lifted her skirt and stomped barefoot down the church steps.

“Where’re your shoes?” Gilbert called.

It seemed her dignity wasn’t the only thing Alice left lying in the aisle.

• • •

Justin stared at his beet-red bride-to-be as she cowered in her father’s arms. Strands of inky silk slid from her hair combs and stuck to her wet cheeks. “What’s going on?”

She burrowed deeper into her father’s chest. “Alice is crazy.”

Maybe. Charlie’s little sister had done a lot of crazy things in her life, but standing up in church without good reason seemed extreme, even for a Cramer.

Between Morgan’s sniffles, Justin could’ve heard a boutonniere pin drop in the stricken church. He glanced at his mother, sitting stoically in the front pew. No doubt she figured he had a plan to get the situation under control. But for the first time since his father died, leaving the job of diplomacy to him, Justin was at a loss for words.

He should probably start with an apology to his mother and permit her the
‘I-told-you-so.’
She’d warned him time and time again about the damage Charlie could do to his reputation. He glanced at Morgan, picturing her missing tiara sitting atop her head. Apparently she didn’t get the same lecture.

Sickness swirled in Justin’s stomach, and a flash interrupted his speculative trance. The bright light drew his attention down the aisle to a large man with an even larger camera taking photos of the twirling flower girl. At least someone was having fun. But as soon as the sarcastic thought faded, another more ominous thought formed. That man, that camera, could ruin Justin by capturing an unsavory, unscripted moment and putting it on display.

Justin’s chest clenched. He had a choice to make. He could either go through with what he once thought of as a politically advantageous wedding solely to save face and as a result, risk life with a duplicitous woman, or he could step back, take a breather and make certain he was doing the right thing by marrying a woman he didn’t trust and didn’t love simply to follow through on his father’s promise.

With an inhale and an exhale, Justin raised his hands. “I need a minute.”

“Don’t you dare walk out on me,” Morgan threatened through clenched teeth.

He hadn’t thought about walking out until she suggested it, and now that she had, he wanted to. Walking wouldn’t solve the big problem, but if he walked, nobody would see him blow. And for the first time in years, he heard the ticking of a time bomb with each beat of his heart.

Months’ worth of frustration trapped between his cummerbund and bowtie. He’d allowed himself to be a pawn in a game his father started years ago. There were no more clandestine whiskey and cigar meetings between Marvin Mitchell and Robert Parrish, but their plans for power remained. If their dreams for political dominance had died along with Justin’s father, Justin wouldn’t be standing here today. But he was standing here, a willing accomplice, because as Marvin’s oldest son, it was his duty to follow through with his father’s best-laid plans, plans which included a Congressional seat and a loveless marriage.

Crazy? Maybe. But his father said powerful families arranged marriages all the time. They were business transactions of mutual benefit. In this case, Justin would get a beautiful, poised, politically-appropriate wife, who happened to come with a dowry of several hundred million dollars in the shape of an international plastics plant, and Morgan would get a wealthy husband with power, influence and title. Everybody won, unless, of course, you counted love, which Justin didn’t. Love didn’t win elections. Love didn’t balance the measly budgets of rural Pennsylvania towns. Love was one of the few luxuries powerful people couldn’t afford.

Or so he’d been told over and over again by the most unlikely source, his bride-to-be. He’d been focused and methodical about marrying Morgan for the power and stability her family could offer this town, and yet he stood here, shaken by the unknown. Was it possible Morgan had risked his reputation and all they planned to accomplish together by carrying on with Charlie?

When Justin looked at Morgan, she looked away.

On the first wave of impulse Justin had permitted in years, he threw up his hands. “I apologize, but this isn’t going to happen today.”

“I’ll kill her,” Morgan roared. So much for poise under pressure.

Any other time, Justin would’ve placated her for the sake of keeping appearances, but now he simply wanted to get away. He walked up the aisle with gasps and gossip to his back. He could only imagine his mother’s fear and confusion. It was almost enough to turn him around. Almost.

“When I get my hands on that little … ” Morgan’s threats against Alice faded and somewhere in the distance a door slammed.

Justin didn’t stop to see what happened. At the moment, he was too numb to care. His mind warned that this could be political suicide, but he needed the truth. Once he knew what Alice knew, he could form a plan.

He reached down to scoop up the pair of shoes that littered the aisle. Alice Cramer had given him grief since the day they first met. She had better have a damn good explanation now.

Justin sat in his parked car in the Cramer’s driveway, lifting his bowtie like a noose and scratching the back of his neck. He’d get his answers, warn Alice to watch her back around the Parrishes, and then he was out of here, out of town, somewhere quiet where he could think.

Road tripping in a tuxedo wasn’t his idea of comfort, but he wouldn’t waste time stopping by his house, risking a run-in with Morgan and her parents. Absolutely not. He had nothing to say to them, which meant just enough time for one stop before he hit the highway and headed for his intended honeymoon destination, seven days at his condo on Carolina Beach. If the squeezing muscles in his shoulders and neck were any indication, he was more desperate for the getaway now than he had been the day he planned the trip.

Justin bounced his forehead off the steering wheel and sighed. For somebody who spent his adult life trying to do right, he sure ended up with a lot gone wrong. Some paragon of community service he turned out to be.

Shelving the self-pity, he pushed out of the car and set off in search of answers. His heavy feet trudged over the uncut lawn and to the front porch where Mouse met him with a whine. The mutt wiped a lip-load of slobber across Justin’s tuxedo pants. “Hey, boy. It’s been awhile. How you been?” Justin rubbed the dog behind the ears.