What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(106)

“Sure!” Rae was remarkably unconcerned about her trauma and her bruise and intent on enjoying her role in the wedding.

Verona caught up with them. “Arthur’s people found Takashi Tibodo.”

“Takashi Tibodo!” Kellen hadn’t realized anyone else had been victimized. “What happened to him?”

“When we realized who was really responsible for the kidnapping,” Verona said, “Arthur had a conference call with his people. Takashi didn’t answer his phone. Apparently, he had figured out Dan Matyasovitch was not what he claimed to be, so Dan knocked him unconscious and locked him in the supply closet behind the tasting room.”

“Is Takashi going to be all right?” Birdie asked.

“He’s apparently quite angry and insists he will be able to sing at the reception. He also says he can step into that dreadful man’s place and handle the music direction.”

That dreadful man being Daniel Lykke, Kellen surmised.

“Has somebody checked on Nils?” Kellen asked.

“Oh, yeah. Nils.” Birdie mashed the antique veil on Kellen’s head.

Verona stiffened and her expression became that of a stiff-necked schoolmarm. “He’s alive, which is more than he deserves.”

“Concussion?” Kellen asked.

“I really couldn’t say,” Verona answered. “One hopes.”

Birdie stuck pins in the veil. “I hope these hold long enough to get you down the aisle. I’m a mechanic, not a hairdresser.”

With smug assurance, Rae said, “None of this would have happened if I’d had a cell phone to call for help.”

Something clicked in Kellen, some sense that this cell phone issue needed to be handled, and it needed to be handled now. She said, “That’s true. I was thinking of getting you a puppy as a friend and protector. But if you’d rather have a cell phone...” She let the sentence trail off and rearranged two hairpins that were sticking right into her scalp.

“A puppy?” Rae froze. “I can have a puppy?”

“No, no, no.” Kellen waved a dismissive hand. “You’re going to get a cell phone.”

“What kind of puppy?” Rae moved like a robot to stand in front of her mother.

“I thought we could go to the animal shelter and you could pick one out,” Kellen said casually. “But a cell phone is a good idea, too.”

Rae wet her lips. “I’d rather have a puppy for...for companionship and to take care of me.”

“A cell phone is a better idea. A puppy is a lot of work.” Kellen shook her head solemnly. “They have to be trained—”

“I can train her!”

“And fed and washed—”

“I can feed and wash!”

“And they’re always wanting to be loved and petted and played with.”

“I can love and pet and—” Rae stopped, and Kellen could almost see her mind working. “Wait a minute. I’m being manipulated.”

The switch from eager little girl to smart almost adolescent was dizzying and carried a clear warning of the future. But Kellen told her the truth. “Yes, you are. Puppy or cell phone, those are your choices.”

“Puppy!” Rae threw her arms in the air. “I get to have a puppy! I get a puppy!”

Verona watched her granddaughter jump up and down and chant, and said sourly, “The only person who is going to wash this dog’s flea-bitten carcass is Grandma.”

Kellen patted Verona’s arm. “It rains a lot here and it’s muddy. I’m sure I’ll get my chances.”

Max pulled Kellen close. “My mother would never even discuss a dog for Rae. How did you pull that off?”

“It’s a good idea. A dog will protect Rae and alert us of danger, and as for your mother—before, she didn’t realize there would ever come an occasion that Rae would need protection. Three weeks ago, it hadn’t occurred to us!”

Max smiled at Kellen, smiled into her face as if she was the smartest, most beautiful woman in the world.

“Go on!” Verona gave him a push. “There’s time for that later.”

Max left, walking backward, still smiling at Kellen.

Verona yanked and tweaked Kellen’s skirt. “I know you wanted purple and I resisted, but really. To go to these lengths to get purple on your white gown!”

“What?” Kellen glanced down.

Wine stains splattered her skirt in random patterns that started at the hem and faded as the material moved toward the waist. Here and there, a brown stain...blood. She craned her neck; her train looked as if it had been dragged through the wine—and in fact, it had. She laughed. “The bucket. I hit Daniel with the bucket and the wine sprayed everywhere!”

“I’m sure it was all a ploy to make sure you got your way.” Verona’s mouth was pinched like a prune, as if she didn’t want to laugh.

Kellen realized—Verona was trying to be funny. She wasn’t good at it, but she was trying.

Then Verona frowned for real. “Why do you have a tear in your bodice?”

“That’s where he stabbed her!” Rae said fiercely.

Verona grabbed Kellen’s arm and held her up as if she would faint. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Not quite true—the knifepoint had not pierced her skin, but the violence of his attempt had left a sore spot and a bruise. “The bracing on the corset caught the point and I’m fine.” Still, Kellen was vain enough to ask, “Does it look terrible? The wine and the tear and the wrinkles?”