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  She shook her head. “I’m fine. But have you heard the news?”

  “About?”

  “Jodi. The judge denied bail. Said she was a flight risk because she didn’t have any ties to the community.”

  “Oh no.” My heart sank. “What does that mean, exactly? Will she have to stay in jail until the trial? That could be a long time.”

  Flora shrugged and removed a tiny lace handkerchief from the pocket of her sweater. She began dabbing at her face. “I don’t really know. The lawyers are working on it.” She swallowed hard. “I just feel so awful for Jodi. And now these accusations from Cora about Chuck and Jodi having an affair. Jodi’s torn up over it.”

  “What’s Jodi have to say about Chuck being in her room?”

  “She said he came by with one of her books saying that his friend was a huge fan and wanted to know if she’d sign it.”

  “The Billionaire’s Bride?”

  “Yes. A paperback copy. She said it was brand-new and still in a bag from the bookstore.”

  “Probably from the Constant Reader,” I observed. “Did she remember who he wanted it inscribed to?”

  Flora shook her head, refolded her handkerchief, and slid it back into her pocket.

  I thought of another question. “Did she mention if he was wearing his tool belt when he came into her room? I was wondering how those nails could’ve got there.” And hoping the explanation had nothing to do with Lynn.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I didn’t even think to ask, but Bentley will probably fill us in on the details later. I do know that because of those nails, a couple of the agents believe Jodi is guilty.” Her eyes shot over to where Ms. Lambert was directing the efforts of a worker who sorted and arranged sprigs of dried flowers. “Ms. Lambert maintains that our author is bringing down her company’s reputation and affecting the expo sales. But the real tragedy is the damage to Jodi’s own reputation. She may not have much of a career to come back to after all this is over. Already her book sales have plummeted. Her editor called me yesterday. They’re considering pulling the contract on the new book she has scheduled to release this spring.”

  “But you were able to talk them out of it, right?’

  “Bentley did. She got right on the phone and straightened it out. For now, anyway. I hate to think what’ll happen if the real killer isn’t found.” She let out a long sigh and touched my shoulder. “I do so appreciate your support through all this, Lila. It’s good to know you’re on our side.”

  Reaching over, I cupped her hand in my own and gave a little reassuring squeeze. “Hang in there, Flora. It’ll all work out, I promise.” Although my words sounded hollow, even to me. Things would work out, sure; one way or the other they always did. But there was no guarantee that things would work out for Jodi. Not unless the real killer was found.

  Chapter 13

  Despite Ms. Lambert’s complaint that Jodi’s incarceration had generated negative publicity, attendance at the expo this evening didn’t seem to be affected. The Arts Center was yet again packed with happy brides-to-be browsing booths with nothing more serious than murmurs of dress fittings and reception venues punctuating their lighthearted conversations. Soon I found myself immersed in their joviality, ruminations of suspects and clues quickly replaced by daydreams of bouquets and receiving lines.

  Tickets to hear Franklin’s two authors and the subsequent do-it-yourself seminar sold out in the first hour after the doors opened. Fortunately, I was able to slip away from the book sale table, where I was on duty with Jude and Zach, long enough to catch the tail end of the talk given by the author of Tie the Knot on a Shoestring Budget. I jotted down a few helpful notes and planned to get a copy of her book later for a closer look. Even though I dreamed of a simple, elegant affair, it was shocking how quickly costs accumulated. And with Trey’s education to consider—or maybe not—I didn’t have a lot of wiggle room in my budget.

  I returned to the book sale table to find Jude leaning back and relaxing with his feet propped on the table. With most of the clientele currently attending the author presentations and craft seminars, the hallway was empty. Jude told me that Zach had taken the opportunity to grab a quick bite to eat but would be back soon. As I settled into my own chair, Jude regarded me with a pensive expression. “Been getting some ideas for your own wedding?”

  “A few.” Wariness crept over me. Every time the conversation turned to my wedding, Jude became contentious. I quickly picked up a random book and feigned interest, hoping to avoid any more talk on the subject. A red-hot flush overcame me as my eyes skimmed the page and I realized I’d picked up one of Pam’s racier novels.

  “I’m happy for you, you know,” Jude was saying.

  I briefly glanced over the top of the book and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I hope you’re planning to invite me to the wedding.”

  I closed the book, setting it aside as casually as I could muster. I reached for A Handmade Wedding and shrugged. “Sure.” I half expected him to follow up with a smart quip or something condescending toward Sean, but this time there was no razzing, no playful goading, no annoying comments. Instead he reached over and placed his hand on my arm, drawing my attention away from the book.

  I looked up, caught off guard by the intensity in his brown eyes. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

  I froze. His sparkly eyes, the warmth of his hand on my arm … My whole world stopped. Then he slid his hand up to where my hair grazed my shoulder and playfully tugged on a strand. Sparks shot through me; his full lips, oh so very close to mine, turned up at the corners as if he knew some sort of secret. His long lashes swept down to half cover those warm chocolate brown eyes of his, tempting me to drink in his soft gaze. We remained there, suspended in a moment of lusty ambiguity while my insides screamed for me to pull back, get away, and put a stop to this nonsense while another teensy-tiny part of me remembered, with all the tingly thrill, the time that we’d shared a kiss so long ago …

  “Lila?”

  I startled, a shaky hand flying to my ready lips, guilt glaring in my mind’s eye. I kept my hand there, holding back the excuses that threatened to spill from my mouth as I looked at Makayla, who was staring down at me with … with what? An accusing look. That was what it was. Then I looked back at Jude, who was sitting smugly, that mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as his lips now spread into a knowing grin. He winked. My insides screamed: I would not have kissed him! I wouldn’t have!

  Then Makayla cleared her throat and stepped forward, choosing a book from the pile and thrusting a bill my way. “I just came by to pick up this book.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Disappointed in me? She had it all wrong. It looked bad, but I wasn’t really going to kiss Jude. Was I? “And to see if you were getting ready for your dinner break. I have a ticket to the do-it-yourself seminar.”

  “Sure.” I fumbled to make her change, my hands shaking with shame. Could I really say what would have happened if she hadn’t shown up? What was wrong with me? I loved Sean. This thing with Jude … well, it was just plain stupid. After handing Makayla her change, I turned back to Jude. “I’m heading for my dinner break,” I told him, joining Makayla on the other side of the table. “If you need help, I suggest you call Zach or one of the other agents. I won’t be back here this evening.”

  “Sure, darlin’,” he replied in his easy way. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

  “That wasn’t what it looked like,” I said to Makayla as soon as we’d walked out of earshot.

  She kept walking, pursing her lips and shooting me a sideways glance while she tucked the book she’d bought into her shoulder bag. “Then what was it? Because to me, it looked like y’all were heading into major lip-lock.” Suddenly she stopped and turned to face me straight on. “What’s this all about, Lila? Do you have a thing for Jude Hudson?”

  I shook my head. “No, not at all. It’s just …” I hesitated, not knowing how to articulate my feelings. Why co
uldn’t I shake the attraction I felt toward Jude?

  Her eyebrows shot skyward. “Just what?”

  Shaking my head, all I could answer was, “I guess I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself.” I told her all about Jude and me, the kiss we shared the first week we worked together, his continuous flirtations, my sometimes attraction to him. “What you just saw … I wasn’t going to … I just … I just don’t know.” I brought both hands to my cheeks. “What is wrong with me?”

  Makayla reached up, grabbed my hands, and held them in hers. “Look. I’ve known Jude since long before you moved to the Valley. He’s used to getting what he wants with women. The fact that he can’t have you must really bother him. That’s all it is, Lila. A silly game to him. Do you really want to throw away everything you have with Sean on a guy like that?”

  A silly game. I knew she was right, of course. It was all just a game to Jude. He agented thrillers and suspenseful adventures. And his love life offered the same genre of intrigue and conquests with an ultimate lone—and satisfied—hero striding off into the sunset, leaving a string of broken hearts behind him. Life imitating art; Jude imitating fiction. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then keep your distance from Jude. Okay?” She gave my hands a final squeeze before letting go. Sighing, she plastered on a smile and nodded in the direction of the Dragonfly Room. “Come on. Let’s go check out those crafts. After what happened to my café this morning, I’m going to need every budget tip I can get.” We started walking again.

  “Have the police come up with anything yet?”

  “Nope. I don’t think they will, either. They didn’t even bother dusting for prints. Said it would be fruitless in such a public place.” She shrugged. “Guess it could have been worse. I’ve just lost a few supplies. Nothing major. I just can’t figure out why someone would do something so malicious.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? Especially since nothing was taken. I mean, I could understand it if you had a bunch of cash on hand. But even what you had wasn’t touched. Maybe the police are right. It was just a bunch of kids up to no good.”

  Once we reached the Dragonfly Room, we dropped the subject, choosing to focus instead on the spectacular displays and fun-filled craft seminars. However, my heart wasn’t into tonight’s special events. What I really wanted to do was sit down over a warm, soothing caramel latte and talk to Makayla about all the things weighing on my mind: Trey’s newfound career as a chef, Mama’s “special” friend, my niggling suspicions about Lynn, and now this “thing” with Jude. I knew Makayla would listen attentively and offer me some little tidbit of insight that would soothe my worries. Just as I would do the same for her. Because, even though she was only in her midtwenties, Makayla possessed the self-assurance and prudence of a much older woman and over the last couple of years, we’d grown to become each other’s best confidante.

  The last thing I wanted, however, was to drag her down with my problems. She had enough of her own problems with her business trashed just this morning. I’d been there for her physically to help clean it up, sure, but I needed to be there for her emotionally now as well. She deserved to enjoy this time focusing on the joy of preparing for her wedding. So for Makayla’s sake, I worked extra hard to push aside all my worries. Instead, I put on my best happy face, mingled with other, more lighthearted brides-to-be, and did my best to pick up a few money-saving craft ideas that might come in handy when I started finalizing my own wedding plans.

  *

  BY THE TIME my dinner break was over, Makayla and I were both atwitter with ideas—and feeling like we were plenty capable of pulling off many of the grand ideas offered. As I said good-bye to Makayla, she gave me a warm hug and I knew we both felt better for this little time together.

  Now it was time for me to make the rounds checking on our authors. I started with Lynn’s booth. She wasn’t there, but the vendor next to her informed me that she’d just left for a short dinner break. So, for twenty minutes or so, I kept busy, delivering snacks and bottled water, tissues, or anything else needed to keep our other authors comfortable while they worked. After everyone seemed settled, I picked up a steaming hot cup of coffee to take to Mama. A peace offering of sorts. I’d started to feel guilty about my bad behavior earlier that day. Maybe I didn’t like Oscar Belmonte, and even if I had good reasons for it, Mama certainly hadn’t deserved my rudeness.

  Carefully worming my way through the crowds, I was just about to Pam’s booth when I heard Lynn call out my name. She was standing at Rufus Manning’s photography booth, admiring his portfolio. A quick glance told me Mama was busy with a client anyway, so I held on to the coffee while I stepped aside to say hello to Lynn. “I’m just getting ready to head back to my own booth,” she was saying. “I came over to say hi to Pam but got sidetracked by these beautiful photos.” She flipped through a couple of pages while Rufus looked on with pride. “Aren’t they lovely?”

  “They sure are,” I agreed. I was suddenly reminded of Rufus’s photo of a bride and groom’s hands clasped together. The one that had been destroyed at Makayla’s shop. “Oh, Rufus. Did Makayla get hold of you today?”

  “Makayla from Espresso Yourself?” He squinted with confusion. “No, I haven’t talked to her today. Why?”

  I explained about the breakin at her shop. “The vandals really made a mess of things. Including much of the artwork, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s just awful,” Rufus replied.

  “Yes, it is,” Lynn reiterated. “You didn’t mention that at lunch today.”

  “I didn’t?” I guess I didn’t. Probably because I was too distracted by other things. My eyes slid over to where Mama was tracing the lines on a young lady’s palm. The gal’s friends were leaning forward, anxiously anticipating Mama’s verdict. Whatever she said elicited a loud burst of laughter, followed by several more outstretched palms and urgent pleas for more readings. Mama could sure captivate a crowd, I thought. Then I shook my head and refocused on the conversation at hand. “Well, anyway. Makayla will probably be contacting you soon. She may need another copy for her display.”

  “That’s no problem,” Rufus said. “I’ll print up another one first thing in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” I raised the cup. “Well, I’d better get this over to the Amazing Althea, Babylonian Fortune-Teller, before it goes cold.”

  “Hold up a second,” Lynn said, trotting after me. “Could you tell Zach that I won’t be needing a ride back to the inn? Sloan and I are going to go out for a drink after we finish tonight.” It took me a second to remember that Sloan was Dr. Meyers’s first name. I was glad to see that she and Lynn were becoming friends. “But we’re still on for tomorrow morning, right?” she asked. I nodded, and after we confirmed our plans to attend Chuck’s funeral the next day, she threw a quick wave Pam’s way and headed back to her own booth.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” I said, pushing my way through the crowd around Mama. “Hot coffee coming through.”

  Upon seeing me, Mama stood up and held out her hand like a traffic cop. “Give me just a moment, girls. I’ll be right back.” She came around the table and pulled me aside. “Thank ya, sugar. Coffee sounds good ’bout now.” She took a sip and then leveled her gaze on me. “I’ve been hopin’ you’d come by the booth. You still gonna need a ride home tonight?”

  I forced myself not to overtly sigh as I realized the implication. “If you need to be somewhere else, I can find another way home. I mean, I understand if you have other plans,” I said, figuring she was probably picking up Oscar for a nightcap. My heart fell as I realized I’d have to get used to sharing my mother with someone else.

  “Other plans?” She squinted. “No, sugar. I don’t have any plans, except to have a talk with you. If you’re willin’, that is. Seems seeing Oscar and me together has upset ya some.”

  Now I did sigh. “Just surprised, I guess.” And worried that you may be falling for a crazed killer. “But I had no reason to act so rude
ly. I’m sorry, Mama.”

  She nodded, stealing a glance back at the throng of women eagerly awaiting their readings. “We’ll talk some more tonight, hon.”

  She settled back into her side of the table, while I popped in on Pam. “Do you need anything?” I asked.

  “Nope. I’m doing just fine. Thanks to your mother, that is. I owe most of my sales this week to her energy and enthusiasm.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “You know, I had her do a reading for me.”

  “You did?”

  Pam nodded. “Yeah. It was so enlightening, too. Said she saw that I’d been struggling with a big decision lately.”

  “Was she right?”

  Pam’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “What do you mean, was she right? Of course, she was! And you know what else she said?”

  I shrugged.

  “‘Life,’ she said, ‘is too short to put off trying all the things we want to do.’ She said you taught her that.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Lila. You know, your mama’s so proud of all you’ve done, admires how you bounced back from a failed marriage, raised your son. How when you lost your job, and that boy of yours was giving you fits, like most boys that age do, I suppose, how you were strong enough to follow your passion, and make a new, better life for the two of you. Said you’re a wonderful mother.”

  “She did?”

  Pam nodded.

  I swallowed hard. Mama had told all that to Pam? Was that really how she felt? She thought I was a good mother. Strong?

  Pam was still going on. “After I heard about your struggles and all you went through, making my decision was easy. Remember the other morning at the Magnolia when I told you and Ms. Duke that I love to read mysteries?”

  I furrowed my brow and nodded, sort of remembering her saying something about mysteries.

  She continued, “I’m going to stop writing romance for a while and try my hand at mysteries. It’s always something I’ve wanted to try. It’ll be like starting my career all over again, but I’m going to do it.”