Chapter Eight
MORGAN
Fran’s frantic voice emerges before her. When the front door bursts open, she and a stretcher spill out onto the porch.
Oh boy.
Her thin frame props the door as two paramedics wheel the wedding planner out and down the front porch steps.
“Oh, this is so ill-timed.” Clearly in a panic, she lets the door fall closed. “We need you. What are we going to do?”
She traipses after them across the grass in her spiked heels. Evelyn lies on the stretcher and glares at Fran over her oxygen mask. She says nothing.
“Wow, she is the worst.”
“She really is.” Great. Did I just agree with Will? Ignore that. I rush toward the insufferable woman. “What happened?”
“Oh, Morgan.” She waves over her head, breathing heavily. “What are we going to do? How will we survive the weekend without her? She’s just going to leave.”
Seriously? “She’s leaving on a stretcher. Is she okay?” Evelyn’s eyes are open, and the paramedics seem calm, so we’re not dealing with anything life-threatening. Right?
“Heavens, I hope so. Something to do with asthma and severe allergies.” She flaps her arms, then crosses them, and taps her lips with one finger.
“Maybe she’ll be better tomorrow. Maybe she can come back.
I have to go tell Bob.” She starts to trot away, then pivots back.
“You cannot tell Hudson and Ava. We’ll figure it out. They don’t need to know.”
The paramedics are loading the stretcher. A few neighbors have come out to see what’s going on. I lift my palms. “Mrs. Thompson, they’re going to find out.”
“Eventually. But by then, I’ll have a plan B.” She puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “Promise me you won’t tell them.”
I hesitate, then nod. Will does too.
“Good.” She pats us each on the cheek. “Oh, what are we going to do?” She rushes away, trying to run up the hill in her ridiculous shoes.
Will’s eyebrows are so high they’re practically lost in his shaggy hair. Red and blue lights flash over his face. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. She’s a lot.”
“Hey, kid.” One of the paramedics motions us over. “Where’d that lady go?”
“I’m not sure. That way?”
“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes and slams the ambulance’s back door.
It pulls away and rounds the next corner. The lights fade into the distance. The neighbors go back into their houses.
I let out a breath and brush a strand of hair from my face. “What just happened?”
Will shifts the box he’s holding. “I’m not sure, but I feel like an accomplice to a crime.”
“Should we keep this a secret?”
“Maybe. Until tomorrow. You saw Ava tonight.”
“Okay.” I jostle my box. “Well, we can’t go back with these.”
“Right.” He moves toward the front porch.
I follow. “What are you doing?”
“Maybe they left the door unlocked.”
Sure enough, we push the door open and walk right in. It wasn’t even latched.
“Hudson told me all the rental houses for the wedding party are booked through the weekend. We can drop these boxes here. Tomorrow, when the maid of honor gets here, she can deal with what this means.”
“Good plan.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey, we agreed on something.”
No comment.
We cross the rug into the living room. Boxes are stacked on the coffee table, side chairs, and in front of the fireplace. We add ours. Several lids stand open. Golden pieces from some sort of decoration lay disassembled in a heap.
I open another box. Same thing. Oh my.
Will catches my frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I get the feeling there are a lot of things left to do.” I hover over the mess. “Everything in that box is supposed to be part of the reception centerpieces. They’re not even assembled.”
He jams his hands on his hips. “We need to pretend we didn’t see this.”
“I wonder if Fran noticed.”
He shrugs and picks up a yellow notepad from the coffee table. “Look at this.”
“Is that a list of tasks?”
“Seems to be.” He flips the page to more items. “Only about half of these are checked off.”
“Oh man. What do we do?”
He flops the notepad back on the coffee table.
Dark circles rim his eyes, and his shoulders slump.
The excitement of seeing an ambulance has worn off.
“Well, seeing as it’s after midnight and we have to be at the coffee shop at nine, we save this mess for tomorrow.
Maybe Fran will have an awesome plan B.”
“Right.” I purse my lips. What’s Ava going to think of all this? Her big moment is less than forty-eight hours away. This weekend’s gotta be great for her.
We don’t find any keys, but we turn off the lights and close the front door before heading back down the hill toward the boardwalk.
I straighten my shoulders, hoping for the best. “It’s going to be fine. They’ll figure it out.”
Will yawns. “Yeah. Tomorrow’s a new day. We can get back to ignoring each other in private and pretending to get along in public. It’ll be great.”
“Of course.” I tear my gaze from his. I don’t like him and need to stop being mesmerized by his dark eyes. He called me psycho! “For the record, I’m still mad at you.”
“Figured.”
Warmth infuses the word, and he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Somehow, this, plus his stupid shirt and stupid pretty eyes, infuriates me. I don’t even say bye when I veer off and up the steps to The Blue Moon.
He laughs behind me as I pull the door open. “Good night, Morgan.”
I shut the door and flip the deadbolt, locking him out of the house and out of my mind.
Well, at least one of those things is possible.