Chapter 7: Wedding Plans

Sheree was still feeling guilty a week later. “I’m still thinkin’ that shooting mighta been my fault, Les. All my askin’ around about things, trying to find out if Shelly is telling the truth. Probably asked a lot more people than you. Maybe fifty, sixty people. Get all kinda people at the Quick Mart.”

I chuckled. “Even pushers need a slushie once in a while.”

She gave a sad crooked smile. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be. Hell, it may not have anything to do with anything. It looked like a lot of the shots went into the sign, so they probably weren’t even really trying.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before we could talk about it further, Tiffany and Tara showed up, dragging a whole case of papers and material swatches with them.

I listened idly, finishing my tea as they went over food choices.

Tara held up a card. “For the gluten-free and vegan options, we can use this same wild mushroom risotto.”

Delaney winced with pain. “Is that even food?”

“Not everyone wants a hamburger, you know.” Tara gave a smirk.

“Technically, Delaney’s a taco-tarian. She lives entirely on tacos.” I stretched and settled back in the chair. This was way more fun than I’d expected.

Delaney made a face at me. “I eat hot dogs too.”

“And Thai food, and curry and African peanut soup and, pretty much anything that can’t eat you first.” I looked over at Tara and Tiffany. “Delaney’s definition of food is anything slower than her that isn’t actually poisonous. Well, at least not lethally poisonous.”

Sheree laughed softly. “Behave, Les.” She smiled at Tiffany. “I know everyone is supposed to choose their order ahead, but I’d have a few extra of each on hand. People just don’t think about what it means when they change their minds.”

Tiffany nodded. “We need to figure that out.”

“The caterer probably has a formula for what you can expect.” Sheree put on her reading glasses to look over a paper. “You said you needed Delaney’s dress size, right?”

Delaney suddenly looked horrified. “Oh my God, you’re gonna make me be the flower girl.”

“No, you’re not going to be the flower girl.” Tiffany gave her a conciliatory smile.

Delaney relaxed. “Thank...”

“You have to be one of my bridesmaids.”

The sound Delaney made was somewhere between a stifled scream and a shriek of outright terror. “Seriously?”

Tiffany practically glowed. “It’s perfect. Tara has to be my maid of honor. Lynn, Camille, La’ketha and you will be the bridesmaids.”

Delaney closed her eyes in pain. “Maybe flower girl wouldn’t be too bad...”