The Battered Body

SEVENTEEN

James and his parents attended church the next morning and, after a quick lunch of chicken tortilla soup and a salad of mixed greens, went their separate ways until suppertime. James wanted to stock his kitchen at 27 Hickory Hill Lane with food. He also wanted to arrange his new pots and pans, dishes, and eating utensils so that his family wouldn’t be forced to eat off the remainder of his animal-shaped paper plates.

Having borrowed the Diva’s latest cookbook from the library, James had ambitious plans to bake a stunning cake to serve his loved ones that evening. Despite these lofty intentions, he found himself standing in the middle in the baking aisle at Food Lion staring dumbly at the ingredient list for the Diva’s Perfect Praline Pecan Bundt Cake.

“You look lost,” a young woman’s voice teased. Willow pulled her cart alongside James’s and peered at the open cookbook. “She made that one for the TV show in December, remember? It’s really a delicious cake.”

“It sounds like a perfect wintertime cake,” James replied with a sigh. “Too perfect. I’m not an experienced cook by any means, and I’m feeling daunted by these instructions.”

Willow began scanning the shelves. She grabbed a box of cake mix and put it in his cart. “This situation calls for a shortcut. That cake mix is almost as good as the made-from-scratch batter, but it takes half the time and only three ingredients. Just concentrate on the icing and the candied pralines. Since you’re making those two by hand, no one will suspect that every ounce of your cake isn’t homemade.”

Relieved, James scanned the directions for the frosting and pecans and decided they didn’t seem so challenging. “Thanks, Willow. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem. I’m going to be using a few shortcuts too since I’m in charge of the wedding cake for Wednesday night’s party.” She looked pleased to have been asked. “I told Lindy that I plan to make cupcakes instead of a multi-tiered cake. Since we don’t have an army of waiters, cupcakes are better for a buffet. Your parents will get a miniature cake, of course, but I thought they might prefer a pair of white doves instead of the traditional bride and groom toppers.”

James laughed. “I suppose there aren’t too many toppers of gray-haired couples. Thanks for being so thoughtful, Willow, and for taking care of all the sweets.” James placed a bag of pecans in his cart.

“And don’t worry that I might be offending Megan Flowers by baking the wedding cake. The Sweet Tooth is supplying rolls for the dinner and a tray of wedding-bell cookies. It was really important to me to make Milla’s cake. She’s been so good to me, so different from Paulette.”

A thought occurred to James. “I wonder how I’m going to get those goat’s milk products out of the house and packaged up before Wednesday. They’re in Pop’s shed and he never lets anybody in there when he’s not around.”

“Your friend Lindy’s got that covered. She’s going to visit your father this afternoon as a representative of her mother’s art gallery and is planning to find a way to squirrel the party favors out.”

James grinned at Willow. “‘Squirrel them out,’ huh? I do believe you’re turning Southern on us, my dear.” His smiled evaporated. “Poor Lindy. She might not get the warmest reception. Pop’s been in a bit of a painting drought lately.”

“That happens to all creative types. Something or someone will get him back on track. Besides, two people who were supposed to be at his wedding are dead now,” she pointed out. “That’s got to have affected your father. Throwing him a surprise party ought to cheer him right up.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know Pop. He’s going to hate being the center of attention,” James replied. Then he thought, But to catch a killer, it’s worth a little discomfort on his part.

Quickly adding the rest of the cake ingredients to his cart, James also stocked up on toilet paper, paper towels, garbage bags, and cleaning supplies for his house. He nearly passed out when the total appeared in neon green digits on the cash register. Digging his credit card from his wallet, he sang wryly under his breath, “Hi ho, hi ho, into debt I go.”

It was impossible to remain cross while filling the refrigerator and pantry in his newly painted kitchen. The room was too warm and welcoming to accommodate grumpiness. Switching on the radio, James sang along to a series of upbeat oldies, and he prepared the box of butter pecan cake mix. He was thrilled to be able to use the steel bowls, rubber spatula, measuring cups, and hand mixer Milla had bought him, and when he slid the bundt pan into the oven, he decided to make it a point to become an accomplished cook.

“After all, I’ll be feeding my son on a regular basis,” he informed the oven proudly. Musing over what foods were preferred by a typical four-year-old, James found himself heading down the hall to examine Eliot’s room for the third time that afternoon.

The supper club members had painted until well after dark the day before, and when Lindy finally exited Eliot’s room, she had looked tired but immensely pleased.

“It’s got to dry overnight,” she had warned James before she would let him enter. “And you should tell the carpet guys to be really careful on Monday. After that, try to keep in mind that this is a boy’s room and every inch of it is gonna get dirty at some point.”

“Stop stalling, woman!” Bennett had grabbed her by the arm. “Show us your masterpiece.”

James, Gillian, Bennett, and Lucy had filed into Eliot’s room. Glancing around, they had exclaimed in delight and congratulated Lindy on a job well done. Their artistic friend had gone all out in order to create a room that any monkey-lover would appreciate. First, she had divided the wall in half, so that the upper walls became a cobalt blue sky and the lower half was a tropical forest floor. Trees, exotic plants, and flowers bloomed everywhere and several monkeys resembling Curious George swung from jungle vines. Butterflies, dragonflies, hummingbirds, and macaws also populated the forest canopy. On the wall where James planned to place Eliot’s bed, Lindy had painted George flying through the air as he clung to a bunch of balloons. The monkey wore his trademark grin of mischief and the shiny, plump balloons looked so realistic that James believed that if he stuck a pin into one it might actually pop.

“Girl, you’ve got mad skills,” Bennett had praised Lindy.

Lucy had nodded in agreement and then, a trifle sourly, asked, “What happens when he gets tired of Curious George?”

“Then his Aunt Lindy will paint him something else,” Lindy had quickly responded, smiling at James. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages. Thank you for letting me do this.”

Now, standing in the charming room, James felt as though there were too many hours between now and three o’clock, but in truth, he didn’t have that much time to finish his cake and assemble the kitchen table he’d hastily purchased from the local furniture store. The store owner attended the same church as the Henrys, and when James explained how desperately he needed his table and an extra two chairs delivered that very afternoon, the man promised to drive the items over himself.

The tile-top table and six ladder-back chairs arrived by two. And though James only had to screw the legs to the table base, he also had to bake the candied pecans, which would serve as the cake garnish, mix the frosting, and move the bouquet of yellow carnations he had sitting in the sink to a glass vase.

By the time the cake was cool, the kitchen table was set up and the flowers arranged. James was quite pleased with himself when he overturned the Bundt pan and the golden cake dropped effortlessly onto a cranberry-colored cake plate. James spooned the frosting over the top and sides, enjoying how it slowly dripped down the lines and crevices in the cake. Frowning at the puddle of icing pooling in the middle, he realized he’d probably poured on too much at once.

“Ah well. I’m not exactly the Diva of Dough,” he remarked to his creation, and then he meticulously placed the candied pralines in a ring around the top of the cake. He ate half a dozen during this exercise, wondering how Paulette had stayed so slim working with such tempting ingredients. “It’s a good thing library books aren’t edible,” he said, laughing at his weakness for sweets.

When Jane and Eliot arrived, James covered his son’s eyes with a dishtowel blindfold and led him down to his bedroom. “Something smells delicious!” Jane exclaimed as she walked behind them. “And it’s not the new paint either.”

“That’s the aroma of my homemade dessert wafting through the house. And as I mentioned on the phone this morning, Milla’s taking care of the rest of our dinner, so prepare yourself for a host of sumptuous scents. I thought we’d play with Eliot’s Legos until they get here. Milla bought enough blocks to add another room on to my house!”

Eliot stopped in his tracks, almost causing James to collide into his small figure. “What are Legos?” he inquired, tilting his face toward James’s voice.

James directed a tsk tsk at Jane. “Has this child been raised by wolves?” He laid his hands lightly on Eliot’s shoulders and prodded him forward. “Come on, son. I believe a few monkeys are waiting to meet you.”

“Wow!” Eliot yelled when the blindfold was removed. “This is the best room ever!” After spinning around and around, he performed two somersaults in the center of the floor.

“Thanks a lot,” Jane murmured and poked James in the ribs. “Now his room at my house is going to be unlivable in comparison.”

“I wasn’t trying to make this a competition,” James apologized sincerely.

Jane poked him again, and he let loose an involuntary giggle. “I’m kidding, you big orangutan. I think this room is awesome! One of your supper club friends is the artist, right? Tell us more about her.”

As the three of them settled on the floor and began to build fantastical houses, pirate forts, and castles out of large-sized Legos, James fondly reminisced about how he and the supper club members had first met. Naturally, this led to the subject of how the five of them got involved in their first murder investigation, and before he knew it, James was confiding to his ex-wife how hurt and angry he felt about Murphy’s book.

“I’d say this writer took poetic license to the extreme,” Jane said sympathetically. “Why would she do something so cruel to Lucy’s character? Did the women dislike one another?” She handed Eliot a red square. The boy was so intent in his building that he paid no attention to his parents, humming songs under his breath as he erected a colorful tower of blocks.

James spun the wheels of one of the Lego cars. “Murphy was always jealous of Lucy. You see, I, ah. I-”

“Let me guess. You dated them both!”

When his face flushed pink, Jane laughed. “Oh goodness, James Henry! The Casanova of Quincy’s Gap is right in front of me! And now?” Her voice turned serious, but her eyes still twinkled with mirth. “Who holds the key to your heart, you rogue of a librarian?”

“He does,” James answered and pointed at their son. At that moment, the doorbell sounded. “Ready to meet your grandparents, Lego Master?” he asked Eliot and the boy mumbled “Sure,” without bothering to halt construction.

James fully expected his father to exude a chilly attitude toward Jane and at first, the reception she got was definitely frosty. But as the evening progressed and Jackson was able to witness what a fine mother she was, he eventually thawed. He and Eliot liked one another right away. When Eliot shyly asked Jackson if he should call him “Grandpa,” Jackson leaned down and whispered something in the little boy’s ear. Jackson winked and Eliot rewarded him with a smile before returning to his room. Eliot stayed there while his grandparents toured the house, but as soon as the adults were settled in the kitchen, the boy sidled up to Jackson and tugged on his shirt sleeve.

“My tower keeps falling over,” he complained. “Can you help me, Pop-Pop?”

That simple utterance was all it took. Jackson smiled, showing more teeth than James knew he possessed, and marched off to his grandson’s room to show him how to create solid building foundations.

Milla wasn’t out of the loop for long. Eventually, Eliot wandered back to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and before he knew it, he was standing on a kitchen chair using the hand blender to whip the potatoes. James cringed when he saw the white splatters peppering his clean countertops, but when Milla noticed his expression, she flicked him with a potholder and informed him that all good cooks made a mess in the kitchen.

“Am I cooking, Grandma?” Eliot shouted over the whir of the mixer.

“You are, darling! And you’re a natural too!” Milla replied effusively, her eyes shining.

The dinner was a success. Milla made a roast chicken with stuffing, green beans, mashed potatoes, and biscuits. Everything that wasn’t slathered in butter was drenched in brown gravy, and James knew there’d be hell to pay when he got on the scale the next day, but he didn’t care. He served his praline pecan cake with decaf coffee for the adults and a cold glass of milk for his son, and he blushed at the compliments lavished upon him by the two women.

“It’s fair passable,” Jackson grumbled when Milla demanded that he open his mouth and comment on his son’s culinary skills.

Eliot turned to James and repeated his grandfather’s statement word for word in the same grouchy, reluctant tone. Everyone laughed.

“Seems we’ve got a smart aleck at our table, huh?” Jackson was obviously pleased.

All too soon, it was time for Jane and Eliot to leave. He gave his grandparents lightning-quick kisses on the cheek and then approached James for his customary hug.

“You’re a good cake maker,” he whispered into James’s ear and, unable to help himself, James clung to his son tightly. Eliot snuggled against his chest for a moment and then broke away. He took his mother’s hand and was once more carried off into the night.

“Is this part going to get any easier?” James asked Milla once the Volvo disappeared from view.

“Probably not,” she answered with a compassionate smile. “After all, I’m gonna cry every time you leave our house.”

“You cry over toothpaste commercials, Mrs. Henry,” Jackson remarked. “Come on, climb into your coat. It’s gonna snow. That damned dog next door’s been howling his head off since lunchtime.” He turned to James. “This is a good house, son. Well built.” He nodded in approval. “And he’s a fine boy. I’m gonna paint him tomorrow. My head’s right stuffed with pictures.”

“That’s great, Pop!” James was thrilled to observe the eager twitch of his father’s fingers.

As though embarrassed by his candidness, Jackson gestured toward the kitchen. “You gonna bring the rest of that cake home for us to eat, right? I’ll find a place to hide it ’cause you wouldn’t wanna mess up your diet or anythin’.”

“So you did like it?” James teased. “Yeah. I’ll bring it. But I may have another piece. After all, this is my last night sleeping in my old room. I might just need some comfort food.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” Milla cried. “I feel like we’ll never see you again!”

“You will.” James embraced her fondly and thought, Next time we have dinner, it won’t just be with me, it’ll be with half of Quincy’s Gap!

Jackson, or rather the dog living next door to the Henrys, had been right about the snow. It fell all night long, but in timid flakes that appeared to lack direction. All signs of precipitation had disappeared by the next morning, but on Tuesday afternoon, a much more determined front had descended upon the Shenandoah Valley. A surreal pink sky welcomed a nearly stationary cloud bank and a cascade of vigorous flakes. When Wednesday dawned, the world was magically cleansed and completely muffled in white.

“The weather seems like nice complement to your parents’ party,” Mrs. Waxman remarked as she arrived for the evening shift two hours early. “The way those drifts have formed on the lawn outside-they almost look like piped icing, and the snow is so soft, like a veil covering one’s hair.” She patted James on the arm. “Enough of my metaphors. You’d better get a move on. And save me a cupcake or I’ll be quite displeased.”

James knew his former middle school teacher was teasing, but he stood a fraction taller out of habit and said, “Yes ma’am!”

He was careful navigating the snow-covered roads leading to the church and was delighted to note that Lindy, Bennett, and Gillian’s cars were already in the parking lot. His friends were busy stomping their boots on the door mat in front of the fellowship hall when he entered. They each relieved him of his dual armload of bags containing decorations.

“What have we here?” Lindy inquired.

James poured out the contents of two bags onto a buffet table. “I pretty much bought out anything the store had that was white or seemed to be remotely connected to weddings.”

Bennett held up a hundred-count bag of white balloons. “And who’s gonna blow these suckers up?”

“I bought a little hand pump.” James clapped Bennett on the back. “Do you think you could make an arch over the far end of the hall? That’s where the wedding cupcakes will be. I figured three hundred balloons ought to do it.”

Spluttering, Bennett requested another job, but Gillian grabbed the hand pump from him and smiled. “You pump, I’ll tie. I have very nimble fingers.”

“Don’t I know it.” Bennett smiled at her affectionately.

James left them to their project and began to thumbtack glittering snowflakes, silver wedding bells, and cutouts of white doves hanging from curly white ribbon onto the ceiling tiles. His hands shook a little as he worked, and a feeling of anxiety began to swell inside his chest. Would the killer attend their celebration? Would the supper club members be able to conceal the fact that their eyes would be scanning each and every face in the crowd in search of the dangerous stranger? Would Russ DuPont wear a disguise or wait in the janitor’s closet for a chance to ambush Chloe?

Perhaps this entire affair is a grave mistake, James thought worriedly as he moved his ladder a few feet to the right. We’re being so arrogant-playing with Chloe’s life this way.

James was just hanging the last pair of doves when the Fitzgerald twins breezed in carrying a stereo system and two sets of speakers. After renting the hall and paying for a weekend getaway to Asheville, James didn’t have enough funds to hire a disc jockey, but Francis and Scott assured him they owned enough CDs to keep the party going all night.

“Let’s hope it’s not that much fun. We all have to work tomorrow,” James had told them earlier that day. He had then showed them the printout of Russ DuPont’s photograph, which Lucy had acquired from the Sheriff’s Department in Natchez. “Be on the lookout for this guy. He probably murdered Paulette and Chase, and he may try to harm Chloe tonight. We’re going to need every pair of eyes, so memorize this face.”

The twins had studied the photograph for a long time. “Man, he totally doesn’t look like a killer,” Scott had remarked.

“That makes them the most treacherous. Dark blond hair, blue eyes, about six feet tall,” Francis read from Lucy’s notes. “Sure wouldn’t stand out in a crowd.”

James stared at the young man’s face for the hundredth time. “He’d better stand out tonight. Someone’s life may depend on it.”

As the twins got busy hooking up the stereo, Lucy arrived with Deputy Truett in tow. He was to come to the party as a guest, but a guest carrying a concealed gun. Lucy was armed and told her supper club friends that she was carrying a radio in her purse, just in case she needed to alert Sheriff Huckabee or Deputy Donovan. Huckabee was already camped out in the church office, which would serve as the law enforcement command center for the duration of the party. Donovan was in charge of outdoor surveillance. James relished the idea of Keith Donovan, his nemesis since junior high, sitting on the cold, gray leather of his black Camaro, drinking cupfuls of noodle soup and coffee in an effort to keep warm while the rest of them congregated in a heated room, enjoying a bountiful feast.

Surveying the room, James felt his anxiety ebb a little. It looked like a winter wonderland. With the glossy white balloon arch, the glittering silver and white cutouts twirling from the ceiling on satin strings, the ivory tablecloths, and the floral bouquets made from white amaryllis, the room glowed with enchantment. For a moment, James wished Jane and Eliot were attending, but he didn’t want his ex-wife and son within miles of Russ DuPont, and though Jane’s voice had been fraught with worry when he explained the situation to her on the phone, he promised he wouldn’t do anything foolish in order to apprehend the young man suspected of murder.

“I’m a father now,” he’d said to Jane. “Eliot is the number one priority in my life. Trust me. I want nothing more than to be with my son. And with you too, of course.” Though he wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that statement, James had to admit that he was both comfortable and content in Jane’s presence and was genuinely looking forward to spending more time with her.

“Helloooo!” Lindy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’re daydreaming, James!”

Gillian opened her arms wide and twirled around, her batik skirt opening outward like a flower with rainbow petals. “And why not? This place looks like a dream! And those cupcakes Willow made! Divine! Come see.”

The trio walked over to the dessert table and gazed licentiously at row after row of luscious cupcakes. Each confection had been frosted with an inch of creamy vanilla hazelnut icing topped by a white chocolate heart.

“Try one of the hearts,” Willow said as she placed a petite wedding cake in the center of the cupcakes. She gestured at a bowl of white chocolate hearts. “I thought we might sell them at Quincy’s Whimsies.”

James plucked a candy from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. The buttery chocolate melted on his tongue and he closed his eyes in bliss. “Ah, heaven!”

All of the supper club members helped themselves to candy hearts. As they showered Willow with compliments, the first guests began to filter into the room. No one came empty handed. People either carried a wedding gift or a tray of food, and it didn’t take long for James to experience a bout of nervousness.

“Who are these people?” he asked his friends in an agitated whisper.

“Students from Milla’s Fix ’n Freeze classes,” Lindy answered calmly. “Lucy was in charge of drumming up volunteers to supply food, and she had the brilliant idea of inviting a bunch of guests who also happened to be darned good cooks.”

“You’re amazing!” James told Lucy and she flushed with pleasure.

He then walked over to the far side of the room in order to introduce himself to the dozen people arranging entrées on the buffet table. Reading the placards standing in front of each warming tray, James was astonished by the assortment of gourmet food Milla’s students had created. There was apple- and cranberry-stuffed pork loin, maple-glazed salmon, medallions of beef in a cognac cream sauce, lemon dill tilapia, cornbread-stuffed portobellos, spinach tortellini and roasted tomatoes in pesto, and chicken breasts in a white wine sauce.

As James moved down the line, making a mental checklist of which entrées to choose, more and more unfamiliar faces appeared at the table. Men and women of all ages unveiled platters of sides including risotto cakes, squash medley, wasabi whipped potatoes, wild rice pilaf, and glazed carrots.

It was with some relief that he recognized the trim forms of Megan and Amelia Flowers as mother and daughter set out bread baskets of Asiago cheese muffins in the center of each dining table and added an enormous platter of wedding-bell cookies to the dessert table.

All was ready.

James looked around the room and found Chloe and Aunt Wheezie standing by the drinks area. Willy, the merry owner of the Custard Cottage, had volunteered to make virgin and champagne-spiked punch. Despite the chill in the evening air, folks were lined up to accept cold glasses of punch and Willy’s jolly booming laugh echoed through the large room.

Suddenly, the lights blinked on and off three times-Bennett’s signal that Milla and Jackson had pulled into the parking lot.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lindy asked at the last moment. “Your folks aren’t exactly young. What if we give them a heart attack?”

“If anyone’s going to get hurt here, it’ll be me,” James joked, momentarily forgetting about Chloe. “Pop detests surprises. Here he comes, like any other dutiful new husband accompanying his wife to what he believes is her first choir practice. Instead of listening to the sweet melodies of a dozen robed figures, Pop’s about to be set upon by seventy-five well-wishers. Considering he cast off his hermitlike existence fairly recently, I don’t expect him to be thankful that I’ve propelled him to this level of socializing.” He glanced at Lindy’s clasped hands and at her pink face, which was aglow with excitement. “Luis is coming, right?”

She nodded. “He’s gotta ditch the crazy PTA women first, but he’ll be here.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Bennett flicked the lights again and the murmurs of the crowd abruptly ceased. In the silence, the dual footsteps of Milla and Jackson proceeding down the tile-floor hallway caused James’s heart to race. His eyes swept across the guests, but everyone’s faces matched Lindy’s. All the expressions were the same-that of jubilant anticipation. Even the undercover deputies, Lucy and Glenn, had their gazes fixed on the closed door leading from the fellowship hall to the corridor. And then, it eased open.

“SURPRISE!” Came the deafening, unified shout. Jackson’s jaw dropped and Milla’s hands flew to her heart.

James rushed forward to grab her by her free arm in case she fainted, but Milla merely repeated “oh my, oh my, oh my” while Jackson looked as though he might hurl himself through the closest window, regardless of the fact that it was a beautiful stained glass representation of the story of the loaves and the fishes.

“What have you done, James Henry?” Milla asked when she’d caught her breath.

“It wasn’t me,” James countered. “A few of your friends wanted to throw you a wedding reception.” Avoiding his father’s desiccating stare, James leaned toward Milla and whispered, “You sped up your wedding plans for Eliot’s sake, the least this son could do was to ensure you celebrated properly.”

Milla threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek with a wet smack. “And where’s my darling grandson?”

James squirmed. “I didn’t want him to come. He, ah…”

“Oh.” Milla’s eyes grew round. “You don’t want him around Chloe and Wheezie in case that young man…” She too trailed off, and at that awkward moment, Scott and Francis hit a play button on their stereo and the Crystals belted out “Going to the Chapel.” Most of the guests immediately began to sing along.

“I know this isn’t your idea of fun, Pop, but it’s just dinner and dessert, and then you can go back home.”

Milla tugged on Jackson’s earlobe. “Tell James something nice, dear. He went through so much trouble to put this party on for us. With the new house and Eliot and work and the other troubles we’ve been through… this is such a delightful surprise!”

“Yeah, what she said,” Jackson grumbled, and James left his parents to mingle with their guests.

For the next thirty minutes, he circulated the room, smiling and small talking and never ceasing to look for the dark blond hair, the flat blue eyes, and the youthful face of Russ DuPont. All through dinner, as he sat on Milla’s left and sampled the savory entrées her students had created, his eyes scanned and searched. He made certain he was never far from Chloe, and if she moved too far away from him or went out of the hall to use the restroom, Lucy was never far behind.

The Fitzgerald twins played Sinatra, Neil Diamond, and Pavarotti tracks throughout the meal, and when Willow led Milla and Jackson to the dessert table, they cued up “It’s a Wonderful World.” Hand over hand, the newlyweds cut their miniature wedding cake and gently fed one another a morsel of Willow’s gift. When they were done, James saw his father reach out and snag a cupcake on the way back to his seat.

When James bit into his own treat, he was astonished to taste a creamy raspberry filling inside the sheet-white dough. He wondered if the cupcakes were Willow’s recipe, Paulette’s, or Mrs. DuPont’s. “Did you taste Willow’s chocolate hearts?” he asked Milla. “Your new shop is going to make a fortune.”

Milla beamed. “I hope so, because we signed a lease this morning. I’m planning on a Valentine’s Day grand opening. What do you think?”

A blast of music from the speakers behind his head prevented James from answering. He recognized the smooth and sonorous voice of Elvis, but couldn’t understand why Scott and Francis were playing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” at a decibel level that was sure to garner everyone’s attention. And then he saw that it wasn’t the twins who were looking for notice, but Principal Luis Chavez.

Standing behind Lindy’s chair, Luis tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned, he got down on one knee and presented her with a single, long-stemmed red rose. He then grasped her arm softly and drew her to her feet. As she gazed around in astonishment, he led her to the front of the room and began to waltz with her.

The guests sipped their coffee and watched the couple move gracefully around a small section of the wooden floor. James met Bennett’s eyes and they exchanged winks. It had been Bennett’s idea to give Luis the red rose along with some friendly advice, and it seemed as though the dashing principal had heeded the mailman’s counsel.

The song came to a gradual end and Luis dipped Lindy low to the ground. Holding her there, he gave her a lingering kiss on the lips. As he raised her up again, the guests clapped and whistled. Milla grabbed Jackson’s hand and then took hold of James’s.

“What a perfect party.” She sighed with contentment.

Suddenly, James realized that Lindy’s dance had distracted him from checking on Chloe’s whereabouts. His stomach lurched as he saw the chair she had occupied during dinner was now vacant.

Slowly rising to his feet, he peered up and down the room, frantically searching for the familiar hue of Chloe’s yellow dress. At that moment, Lucy must have been looking for Chloe too, for when her eyes met James’s, they were bright with fear.

The party was over.

Chloe was gone.