Lilac Avenue (39 page)

“The bouquet better send someone age-appropriate,” Kay replied. “Cause this town is sorely lacking in eligible men my age.”

The assembled guests tossed birdseed over the happy couple as they proceeded down the path to the street. After a kiss, a hug, and a good-bye pinch from Maggie’s mother, Scott helped Maggie into her jeep, which had the requisite tin cans attached to the back along with a sign that read, “Just Hitched.”

“Good job,” Claire said to Hannah.

“Sam and Sammy did that,” Hannah said. “Sammy took the job very seriously. He only wanted cans with red labels,
he said to match Maggie’s hair.”

Claire could see Sam holding Sammy at the edge of the crowd, both waving to the couple as they drove away.

“Why are you crying?” Hannah asked Claire.

“I know we’re going to see them in a little bit,” Claire said, “But it still feels like we’re losing them somehow.”

Ed came up and put an arm around her.

“I was pulling for you on that bouquet thing,” he said. “I notice you didn’t even try.”

“I’ve got enough going on,” Claire said. “I was hoping Melissa would catch it.”

“Patrick says he’ll never get married,” Ed said.

“He felt very differently about Ava,” Claire said. “And everybody knows it. I wonder how that makes Melissa feel.”

“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Ed said.

Ed watched the tail end of the jeep turn the corner at the end of Lilac Avenue.

“You know, I never understood what Scott saw in Maggie,” he said. “But I’m glad to see him so happy.
I hope it works out.”

“
It’s a mystery what attracts people to each other,” Claire said. “I think they’ll be as happy as they make up their minds to be.”

Ed didn’t seem to hear what Claire said. She could tell by his
eyes that he was already thinking about something else.

“Listen, I’ve got to go down to the office and
work on the paper,” he said. “Do you mind? I’ll see you at the party later.”

“No problem,” Claire said. “I’ve got a lot to do before then.”

“I saw Scooter earlier,” Ed said. “He says he’s going to get you to sing tonight.”

“If I get drunk enough
, I can do anything,” Claire said.

“I’m looking forward to that,” Ed said.

Claire went home to get a suitcase for Maggie to use, retrieve her phone, and change into some casual clothes for the after party. After she donned jeans and a brightly embroidered peasant blouse, she gratefully slipped her sore feet into her ballet flats, and took along a cardigan for the cool evening that would come later.

When she arrived at Maggie’s place, her cousin was in a panic, and Hannah was not helping.

“You’re gonna need a number one-hundred-and-eighty-seven sunscreen,” Hannah was saying. “Or you may as well wear a sign that says ‘future home of terminal skin cancer.’”

“Out of my way, amateurs,” Claire said. “I brought sunscreen and a hat. I also brought travel size bath gel, shampoo, and everything else you will need. You two change for the party and leave the packing to the travel expert.”

Claire went through Maggie’s closet full of clothes.

“You have a lot of men’s shirts in here,” Claire said. “Are they yours or Scott
’s?”

“They’re mine,” Maggie said. “Women’s shirts all gap at the
bust line and don’t cover my butt. Men’s are much more comfortable.”

“Admit it, you’re a cross-dresser,” Hannah said, “Just say it Maggie, there’s no shame in it.”

“But you’re the one wearing boy’s underwear,” Maggie said.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” Hannah said. “I was agreeing with you, bridezilla.”

“Okay, ladies, cease and desist,” Claire said. “Be sure to text me the address of Sal’s condo and I’ll send you some clothes.”

“Text
you on what?” Maggie said. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a laptop, a tablet, or a fancy phone.”

“I keep forgetting how Amish you all are,” Claire said. “Call me with the address and I’ll s
end you a real phone and some new clothes.”

“Hey,” Hannah said. “I need some new clothes.”

“Yes, you do,” Claire said. “But how likely are you to wear what I pick out?”

“It would be kinda hard to crawl under a house to retrieve a possum in a tight skirt and heels,” Hannah said.

Claire picked out the most feminine-looking shirts and jeans she could find, while mentally shopping online for plus-sized tunic shirts and barely boot-cut tummy-control jeans.

“No Ava or Charlotte, I noticed,” said Maggie, as she bent over and Hannah pulled her dress off over her head.

“The official excuse is that Ava had B&B guests and Charlotte was needed to help,” Hannah said. “But everyone knows she just can’t stand to see Patrick with Melissa.”

“But Ava doesn’t want Patrick,” Claire said. “She dumped him.”

Maggie peeled off her stretchy shape-wear and flung it with force across the room. Claire tried not to take it personally.

“She may not want him, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have him, either,” Maggie said.

“Melissa and Patrick looked really sweet together,” Claire said. “You should have seen how he looked at her while she was walking up the aisle.”

“They’re living together in her trailer,” Hannah said. “
Bonnie still tells people he lives at home with them, but everybody knows where he really sleeps every night.”

“Wear this,” Claire said
to Maggie, while holding out an apple-green cotton sweater she had found on a shelf in Maggie’s closet.

“No, that was Gabe’s favorite sweater on me,” Maggie said, crossing her arms.

“Well, you’re married now, and there’s nothing Gabe can do about it,” Claire said. “Wear the sweater and break the spell, once and for all.”

Maggie put on the sweater, which did look great on her.

“Why don’t you have any luggage?” Claire asked her.

“I never go anywhere,” Maggie said.

“Maggie would rather hang out with the people she does know who irritate her than go somewhere new to be irritated in new ways by people she doesn’t know,” Hannah said.

“There are plenty of places in West Virginia that are nicer than anywhere outside the state,” Maggie said. “
The Cheat River, Canaan Valley, Blackwater Falls, the New River, Snowshoe, Lewisburg, the Greenbrier, Oglebey Park ...”

“Maggie likes to be able to get there and back in one day,” Hannah said. “She likes to sleep in her own bed.”

“You’re kidding me,” Claire said. “You never leave the state?”

“People down south like to hug too much,” Maggie said. “Plus
when they say ‘bless your heart’ what they really mean is ‘you are such an idiot that I pity you.’”

“So why not go north?”

“Yankees,” Hannah and Maggie said at the same time.

“Y’all are so weird,” Claire said. “Bless your hearts.”

When Hannah and Claire arrived at the Rose and Thorn, Claire could see through the front window that the bar was packed with wedding guests. Scooter Scoley and The Snufftuckers were playing “Cotton-Eyed Joe,” and Patrick was handing out shots from behind the bar. Claire was about to follow Hannah inside when a tall, well-dressed man stepped out of the shadows and stopped her.

“Claire Fitzpatrick?” he asked.

The door slammed shut between Claire and Hannah, who did not seem to notice Claire had not followed her inside.

The man was handsome, with movie star cheekbones, dark eyes, and hair. He showed Claire his identification: it was from the FBI.

“James Randolph Brown; United States Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Claire read from the identification the man offered her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening but I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Can I see your driver’s license?” she asked.

He smiled, and when he did so, Claire could see
that he was amused, not irritated or offended. He reacted more like every arrogant, handsome man she had ever known, someone who thinks all he has to do is wink and any woman would be happy to jump straight into the sack with him. Claire especially liked to give this type of man a hard time.

As he took his driver’s license from his billfold, she blatantly looked him up and down, taking in his off-the-rack gray suit, white shirt with starched collar, and unremarkable blue-striped tie. He smelled good, but it was drugstore cologne. His shoes had been chosen more for comfort than fashion, and they needed a good polishing. All this ordinary was mitigated by the twinkle in his dark brown eyes and a smirky smile that advertised “flirtatious smart ass,” a character flaw for which Claire just happened to have a weakness.

She made a production out of comparing his driver’s license photo to his actual face.

“FBI, huh?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“From the tall, dark, and handsome division, I assume,” she said.

“None other,” he said.

“
All right, Agent Brown, what could you possibly need to speak to me about?”

“You can call me Jamie,” he said. “I hope you will.”

“I won’t,” Claire said. “I think it’s better that we don’t become too familiar.”

“I already know a lot about you,” he said. “You’ve led a very interesting life, working for a movie star.”

“If you knew me at all,” Claire said, “you’d know that I don’t find invasions of privacy to be acceptable behavior.”

“If you wanted privacy
, you should’ve picked a different career,” he said.

“That’s true,” Claire said. “You’ve got me there.”

“I know a lot about you, but I don’t know what you like for breakfast. I make really good French toast. You ought to try it sometime.”

There was the line crossed, the first salvo fired. He was
very confident indeed if he wasn’t worried about Claire filing a harassment charge. Or maybe he was confident in the power of his position versus hers; Claire had known some cops who went that way. She didn’t find it attractive.

“Very charming,” Claire said. “Lucky for me, I’m impervious to that sort of thing.”

“I could show you my gun,” he said. “It’s very big.”

Yep, it’s about power, she decided. He’s not afraid to be blatant because he thinks nothing can happen to him. He would make an excellent movie producer.

“That’s neither creative nor original,” Claire said. “I hate to tell you this, but your game is tired.”

“My dog loves me,” Agent Brown said.

“I always hear the theme song from
Twin Peaks
in my head whenever I meet one of you guys,” Claire said. “Makes me crave cherry pie.”

“You’ve had a lot of experience dealing with the Bureau?”

“My former employer played an FBI agent hunting a serial killer in the movie ‘Cat and Mouse.’”

“I saw that,” he said. “Not
very accurate, I’m afraid.”

“That’s what the retired fed who consulted on the
film thought, as well,” Claire said. “I guess you know all about that.”

“I
know Tony. He said you were the nicest person he met the whole time he was in L.A. He said to tell you hello.”

“I thought he was nice, too,” Claire said. “I felt sorry for how frustrated he got when they took whatever he said and turned it into such clichéd crap.”

“It did do well at the box office,” Agent Brown said. “Tony bought a little hunting cabin and some acreage with his paycheck.”

“Fortunately
, ticket buyers don’t care as much about accuracy as they like being turned on and scared.”

“Two of my favorite things, as well,” Agent Brown said. “Maybe we could explore
that at a later time. Unfortunately, tonight we’re working on something less sexy, but very time-sensitive, and we need your help. Would you mind coming down to the city building, where we have an office set up?”

“You must know my father was the chief of police in this town for thirty years,” Claire said. “So I’m not that impressed by your badge. If you want to talk to me, my attorney will have to be present.”

“Sean Fitzpatrick,” he said. “He’s already there.”

Claire was taken aback. She took out her phone and called Sean, only to have him confirm his presence in the city building.

“Don’t worry,” Sean said. “You don’t have to cooperate if you don’t want to.”

“How did you know Sean was my attorney?” she asked the agent.

“This isn’t my first time in Rose Hill,” Agent Brown said.

Claire and Agent Brown walked
up Rose Hill Avenue to the city building. Inside, the hallways were dark; the only room lit up was the conference room, where Sean sat with another agent, a woman Agent Brown introduced as “Therese.” Therese wore no makeup and her hair was cropped in a no-nonsense short do. Claire was overcome with the urge to apply some mascara and lipstick to the woman, and to suggest some blond highlights, but she curbed it. Instead, she sat down next to Sean. He squeezed her hand under the table and she squeezed back.