Mother of the Bride Murder, page 1
Books by Leslie Meier
MISTLETOE MURDER
TIPPY TOE MURDER
TRICK OR TREAT MURDER
BACK TO SCHOOL MURDER
VALENTINE MURDER
CHRISTMAS COOKIE MURDER
TURKEY DAY MURDER
WEDDING DAY MURDER
BIRTHDAY PARTY MURDER
FATHER’S DAY MURDER
STAR SPANGLED MURDER
NEW YEAR’S EVE MURDER
BAKE SALE MURDER
CANDY CANE MURDER
ST. PATRICK’S DAY MURDER
MOTHER’S DAY MURDER
WICKED WITCH MURDER
GINGERBREAD COOKIE MURDER
ENGLISH TEA MURDER
CHOCOLATE COVERED MURDER
EASTER BUNNY MURDER
CHRISTMAS CAROL MURDER
FRENCH PASTRY MURDER
CANDY CORN MURDER
BRITISH MANOR MURDER
EGGNOG MURDER
TURKEY TROT MURDER
SILVER ANNIVERSARY MURDER
YULE LOG MURDER
HAUNTED HOUSE MURDER
INVITATION ONLY MURDER
CHRISTMAS SWEETS
CHRISTMAS CARD MURDER
IRISH PARADE MURDER
HALLOWEEN PARTY MURDER
EASTER BONNET MURDER
IRISH COFFEE MURDER
MOTHER OF THE BRIDE MURDER
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
A Lucy Stone Mystery
MOTHER OF THE BRIDE MURDER
LESLIE MEIER
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2023 by Leslie Meier
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022950823
The K and Teapot logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-3376-4
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: May 2023
ISBN: 978-1-4967-3378-8 (ebook)
For Matt, Andy, and Emmy
Chapter One
The little bell on the door of the Courier newspaper jangled and part-time reporter Lucy Stone looked up to see who was coming in. Identifying the visitor as Janice Oberman, Lucy glanced at Phyllis, the receptionist, meeting her eyes and letting out a long sigh that was almost a groan. Catching herself, as Janice marched into the office, she rearranged her features into what she hoped was a welcoming smile as she prepared to face the usual onslaught.
“Hi, Janice,” said Phyllis, peering at the newcomer over the bright-green cheaters that were perched on her nose and had been chosen to match her neon-green tracksuit. “What can I do for you?”
“You won’t believe it,” began Janice, who was quite obviously gloating over the news she was about to impart. A rather stout woman, dressed in the Tinker’s Cove, Maine, spring uniform of windbreaker and duck boots, her double chin was quivering with excitement. “You won’t believe it but it’s another engagement announcement!”
“Wow,” said Phyllis. “That’s the second one this month.”
“I know, and it’s so exciting coming so soon after Morgan’s engagement,” said Janice.
“Who’s the lucky girl this time?” asked Lucy, who knew that Janice was the proud mother of four daughters, all in their twenties. The oldest, Taylor, was married and Morgan was already engaged; that left Chelsea and Jordan.
“It’s Chelsea, and she’s got herself quite the catch,” said Janice, emphasizing the fiancé’s catchiness with a nod. “He’s a doctor,” she reported, with another nod and raised eyebrows, “finishing up his residency at MGH—that’s Massachusetts General Hospital.”
“I suppose Chelsea met him at work,” offered Lucy, who knew Chelsea was a nurse at Mass General.
“All part of the plan,” began Janice, launching into a favorite theme. “I told my girls, if you don’t want to be old maids, go into something where you’ll meet eligible men. Nursing is ideal, men always fall for nurses and hospitals are filled with eligible young doctors. But, of course, not everyone can be a nurse. Taylor, for instance, was never good at science, so she became a flight attendant. She figured out right away that the most eligible men are in business class, so she got herself that gig and, well, it was less than a month before she snagged Warren. He’s a lawyer, you know, and doing very well.” She paused for breath, and gave a smug little smile. “She’s expecting a little boy, due in June, so I’ll be coming in with a birth announcement before too long.”
“Can’t wait,” said Phyllis.
“Morgan, on the other hand, well, you know she was quite the athlete. All-State in field hockey, but of course you don’t meet many men playing field hockey so she switched to lacrosse in college and that’s how she met Henry. Henry Wentworth. His family is loaded, absolutely loaded. Old money, if you know what I mean. They live in Fairfield County, that’s in Connecticut, and happens to be the county with the highest median household income in the entire country.”
“Henry does sound like quite the catch,” said Lucy, trying not to sound sarcastic. “Highest median household income in the country, you say?”
“Well, one of the highest, anyway. And as you say, quite the catch,” cooed Janice. “Just adorable, and he has the loveliest manners. He’ll be going into the family business, stocks and bonds and things.”
“Your girls have certainly done well for themselves,” offered Phyllis.
“What about Jordan?” asked Lucy, naming Janice’s youngest. “Has she hooked any prospects?”
“Scads, Lucy, she’s fighting them off. And if you ask me, your girls could take a page out of her book. She’s still in college, of course, but she’s been taking classes in business and accounting, that’s where the best prospects are.”
“Well, my girls are out of school now . . .” said Lucy, dismissing the idea.
“That’s true, they are getting on, aren’t they,” mused Janice, with a sad sigh. “Not getting any younger, that’s for sure. I suppose your oldest . . . what’s her name? I forget?”
“Elizabeth. She lives in France now.”
“Well, she must be close to thirty. Is she getting nervous?”
“I don’t think so. She seems quite happy with her life in Paris.” Lucy’s oldest daughter was a concierge at the tony Cavendish Hotel, and from all reports enjoyed a lively social life.
“Ooh la la,” said Janice, with a touch of snark. “I suppose it’s all fun and games now but before she knows what happened she’s going to discover that men aren’t interested in an older woman whose biological alarm clock is ringing.” She paused to pull a folded sheet of paper from her shoulder bag and passed it to Phyllis. “All the details of the engagement are here,” she added, pointing to the paper. Turning to Lucy, she asked, “And what about your Sara?”
“Sara works at the Museum of Science in Boston. She loves her job there.”
“But what about men? Has she got a steady boyfriend?”
“I don’t really know,” admitted Lucy. “She hasn’t mentioned anyone in particular, but she does meet a lot of scientists, after all.”
“Oh, scientists,” groaned Janice. “Always got their noses in nasty specimens, their minds on some theorem or other. I don’t mind telling you that scientists do not make good marriage prospects.”
I’m sure you don’t mind in the least, thought Lucy.
“But Zoe, mmm, didn’t I hear she’s working for the Sea Dogs? All those eligible young baseball players, now that’s what I call a brilliant move. Maybe she’ll catch the next Ted Williams.” She paused. “Of course, they can’t all be superstars, now can they?”
“I do believe she’s enjoying herself in Portland,” said Lucy.
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the first of your little birds to fledge and fly off into ma
“I suppose you have a lot to do,” said Phyllis, coming to Lucy’s rescue. “What with two weddings to plan and all.”
“You are so right,” exclaimed Janice, her voice soaring to new heights. “Dresses and table settings and flowers and DJs, it’s quite a lot. Taylor is helping, she’s been a bride so she knows all about the planning and what to avoid. She’s even thinking of becoming a wedding planner, she enjoyed hers so much.” Janice was quick to reassure her listeners that Taylor’s decision was purely optional. “As a part-time sort of hobby thing, it’s not as if she needs to make money, Warren’s perfectly able to support her. In style, which is wonderful since she’ll be able to stay home with the baby. Warren’s a lawyer, you know.”
Lucy did know; she’d heard all about the wonderfulness of Taylor’s husband many times. “Well, we’ll make sure Chelsea’s announcement runs in this week’s paper,” she said, pointedly turning to her computer screen and opening a file.
“It’s a lovely picture of the two of them,” added Phyllis, tucking it away in a manila folder. “I’ll mail it back to you,” she added, hopefully dismissing Janice.
“Well,” sighed Janice, realizing that she’d lost her audience. “As you know, I have an absolutely huge to-do list. . . .”
“Have a nice day,” said Lucy offhandedly, her focus still on the computer screen.
“Take it easy,” added Phyllis, as Janice yanked open the door and departed to the tune of the jangling bell, no doubt plotting her next attack.
“Oh, God, who’ll be her next victim?” asked Lucy, rolling her eyes.
“Probably the post office. I noticed she had some unstamped letters poking out of her bag.”
“You know, I wouldn’t find Janice so upsetting if I didn’t in my heart of hearts wish my girls would settle down and start producing grandbabies. I’m ashamed to admit it. . . .”
“There’s no shame in it,” said Phyllis, offering consolation. “It’s natural.”
“I don’t understand these modern girls. I mean, I know Janice is some prehistoric throwback straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but it almost seems like girls today, my girls anyway, positively resist entanglements. They want to be free as birds, hooking up when it suits them and moving on when it doesn’t.”
Phyllis smiled naughtily. “Kids, today.”
“Nothin’ new, hunh,” chuckled Lucy. “What goes around, comes around. I know I certainly gave my parents some bad moments.”
“Didn’t we all?” added Phyllis, who was flipping through some press releases. “That reminds me, the school department is starting a series of parenting workshops. Might be worth a story.”
Lucy got up from her desk, stretched, and ambled over to Phyllis’s reception counter. She was looking over the workshop press release when her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. Glancing at the screen she saw that the caller was Elizabeth, video phoning from Paris. She immediately swiped and saw her daughter’s face appear, magically, on the little screen. “Hi!” she exclaimed, raising the phone to capture her face and smiling broadly. “What’s up?”
“Beaucoup!” replied Elizabeth, whose suppressed smile indicated she had some exciting news to impart.
“You look like the cat who got the cream,” said Lucy, taking in Elizabeth’s chic cropped hair, her sculpted French face that was all cheekbones, and the finger she was waggling in front of that face, the finger that was adorned with an enormous diamond. “Oh my God!” shrieked Lucy. “You’re engaged!”
“You bet I am!” chortled Elizabeth. “To the absolutely most wonderful, magnifique, handsome, charming, genuinely adorable man in the whole of France, in the whole world!”
“That’s fantastique,” crowed Lucy, a bit floored by this hoped for but entirely unexpected news. “How come I haven’t heard about this amazing guy until now?”
“Well, you know how it is,” began Elizabeth. “I had a feeling this could be really serious, like he was the one, and I didn’t want to hex it. I kind of hugged it close to my heart, in case it all fell through.”
This made sense to Lucy, who knew only too well how private her oldest daughter tended to be, and she herself had often been reluctant to share certain matters until she was ready. “Like when I was pregnant, I always waited until I was at least three months along before telling anyone, except your father, of course.” She paused. “So how long have you known him? And what’s his name?”
“Jean-Luc Schoen-Rene. And actually, it’s all been kind of sudden. Six months, I think, since we got serious. I’ve known him forever, because his family has been coming to the hotel since long before I started working here so he was sort of part of the woodwork. But he never seemed to notice me.”
“But you noticed him?”
“Mom, like I said, he’s very good-looking. Of course I noticed him.”
“So what made him suddenly notice you? You took off your glasses and let down your hair?” asked Lucy, thinking of the cliché move in romantic comedies.
Elizabeth chuckled. “Actually, it happened when he was here without his parents, which was unusual. He was checking in, he looked at me and I looked at him and something must’ve clicked because he asked me out to dinner that night.” She smiled. “The rest is history.”
“So what’s he like? What does he do?”
Elizabeth thought for a minute. “He’s very French, very elegant and well-mannered, a bit reserved. He dresses really well, when he wears jeans they’re always freshly pressed and he wears cologne and usually throws on a scarf. He’s thirty-seven, he’s close to his family . . .”
That gave Lucy pause, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Elizabeth continued. “He’s involved in the family business, they have a big château where they hold special events like conferences and weddings.”
“That will be convenient,” said Lucy. “Have you set a date?”
“We have! It’s going to be this June at the château, of course. There’s room for the whole family to stay, it’s going to be amazing.”
Lucy ventured a guess. “It sounds like the Schoen-Renes are pretty well off?”
“They’re nobility! His father is a count and I guess Jean-Luc will be one, too.”
“I thought they had a revolution and chopped off all those noble heads.”
“They did, but a few years later they had a restoration, and the ones who didn’t get their heads chopped off got their titles back. And sometimes their estates, and from what I can see the Schoen-Renes were able to do very well for themselves. You should see this place, Mom. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Well, I guess I will see it, in June.” Lucy paused. “You’re sure they’ll want all of us to stay? I don’t want to impose. . . .”
“Mom, the château has something like eighty-plus rooms, maybe more. Jean-Luc’s mother, Marie-Laure, told me she would be absolutely devastated if the whole family doesn’t come and stay with them.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to devastate the poor woman.”
“Good choice. You know what they say, that Frenchwomen rule the country, and Marie-Laure is the definition of formidable,” said Elizabeth, laughing. “So are you happy for me?”
“Over the moon, darling,” said Lucy, crossing her fingers. “Over the moon.”
Lucy was about to settle in for a long mother-daughter chat to discuss all the fascinating details, but Elizabeth was brusque as ever. “I’ve got to run, à bientôt,” she said, and her face vanished from the screen. Lucy stared at the phone, feeling a bit let down.
Phyllis, who had been listening to the entire phone call, was beaming. “Congratulations, Lucy. That’s wonderful news.”
“I can’t believe it. I can’t wait to tell Bill and the kids. We’ll have to do a Zoom tonight, with everyone.”
“Personally, I can’t wait to tell Janice Oberman,” confessed Phyllis.
* * *
Bill didn’t share Lucy’s enthusiasm, when she called to tell him the good news. A skilled restoration contractor, he was at a jobsite, working to convert an old barn into a spacious summer home. From his tone, she knew she’d caught him at a bad moment.
