Cruel Intent

“So I can’t really blame Ke

“None of us has a problem seeing you as a whole woman,” Ali said quietly.

Athena nodded. “I know. Thank you.”

“So the only member of your family who’s still in your corner is your grandmother?” Ali asked. “The one who flew to D.C. to visit you when you were in the hospital?”

Athena nodded again and wiped her eyes. “Grandma Betsy is my dad’s mother, and she’s a hoot. You’d really like her.”

“What about last night?” Ali prodded gently.

Athena sighed. “That’s the thing. I felt like I was back on that same train, the speeding wedding train. Like they say in that old joke, ‘Déjà vu all over again.’ Chris is great. Your folks are great. So are you, for that matter, but when I saw the food, all I could think about was that huge wedding. My parents were so excited to do it, and they spent money they couldn’t afford, because they wanted to do it right. And that’s why I wanted the party to be small-why I needed it to be small.”

“In case you needed to pull the emergency brake and stop the train, you could,” Ali said.

Athena sniffed, blew her nose, and nodded again. “But I didn’t mean to make it Chris’s problem, and I certainly didn’t mean for him to have a big falling-out with his grandparents over it. I mean, the party was more than I wanted, but I know Bob and Edie were only trying to help.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Ali said, patting the back of Athena’s hand. “They’ve had some dealings with temperamental brides in their time. When Chris’s father and I were getting married, I was a lot like you. The last thing I wanted was a big wedding. At the time, my mother was determined to ‘do the whole thing up brown,’ as my father would say. Dean and I responded to all the parental pressure by eloping to Vegas. It wasn’t one of those drive-through ceremonies, but close.

“So all these years later, my mother’s still walking around singing those ‘I missed the big wedding’ blues. As soon as Chris admitted popping the question to you, she went off the deep end. She figured this was her last chance at a big production-number wedding. But that’s her problem, Athena, not yours. If Edie Larson wants a big wedding, maybe she and Dad should plan a whole formal renewal-of-vows hoopla for their fiftieth-which isn’t all that far off, by the way. But for right now, as I told Mom this afternoon, we all need to back off. We’re doing things your way. Period.”

“You told her that?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Is she upset?”

“She was upset,” Ali replied. “Maybe still is, but she’ll get over it.”

“What about your dad?”

“What about him? If Mom is over it, Dad is over it,” Ali answered. “That’s how they work.”

For a moment Athena said nothing. “What about Chris’s other grandparents?” she asked. “He never mentions them. What happened to them?”

That was the other problem with our wedding, Ali thought. My parents wanted a huge wedding. Dean’s didn’t want any wedding at all-at least not to me.

“Dean’s parents disowned him,” she said. “They wanted him to come into the family business. He wasn’t interested. My family didn’t have any money. His did, and they thought that’s what I was after-his money-so they opted out of their son’s life completely. That’s the other reason we eloped.”

“And they never came back?” Athena asked.

Ali shook her head. “Even though Dean asked me not to, I tried getting in touch with them once after he got sick. They never returned my call. I’ve never forgiven them for it.”

“They don’t know Chris?”

“No,” Ali said. “Not at all.”

Athena gave her a wry and still slightly tearful smile. “So at least I’m not the only one with a screwy family.”

The doorbell rang again. Athena leaped off the couch. “Sorry,” she said. “How rude. You were expecting company, and here I am, messing things up. I need to go.”

“Believe me, you’re not messing anything up,” Ali began, but Athena wasn’t listening. She hurried to the front door and flung it open. With a mumbled apology, she hustled past the visitor waiting outside on Ali’s front porch.

“That was Athena, my son’s fiancée,” Ali explained to B. Simpson, who stood there with a roll-aboard computer case stationed behind him. “They had a bit of a disagreement.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope,” he said.

“No,” Ali said. “I think Athena and Chris both have a case of new-engagement jitters.”

“If this is a bad time and I’m interrupting, I could always come back later.”

This whole encounter was one Ali dreaded, but it had to be done. “No,” she said. “Come on in. Let’s get this over with.”

One by one, the last few stragglers left the building. Finally, there was no one left but Matt, who sat there agonizing about Detective Holman’s phone call and struggling to understand how this unforeseen disaster had come to pass.

In the movies, earth-shattering events happened with the hero stranded on steep, rocky cliffs overlooking roiling seas. Matt had always loved those black-and-white romances from the thirties in which star-crossed lovers would dine together in high-class restaurants where they could say their bittersweet goodbyes, all the while sipping high-toned cocktails or champagne. But Matthew Morrison was no movie-worthy hero. He was just a regular Joe whose downfall had started months earlier in the checkout line at his neighborhood Lowe’s.

He had gone there after work with Je

As per usual, Je

Matt had prided himself on being a good husband. For the whole time they’d been married, he had been unfailingly faithful to Je