Excerpt of A Groom with a View by Jill Churchill

Chapter One

April

It was very early in the morning, but the station wagon
was loaded to the gunwales. Jane had all her notebooks
full of lists, and a suitcase full of clothes for the
couple days she'd be at “command central,” a.k.a. the
hunting lodge né monastery. She double-checked her
notebooks while shelleystumbled about sleepily putting her
few belongings in the car. It was only about an hour and a
half drive, but Jane didn't want to have to waste time
coming home for anything she'd forgotten.

“I still don't quite understand why we have to go up there
a couple days early,” Shelly said with a fairly ladylike
yawn.

“Because there's a lot to do on site,” Jane answered.

“ ‘On site.' My, that sounds professional,” Shelly
commented. “I have to admit you've been pretty cool about
this whole thing. I expected a lot more whining.”

“I don't whine,” Jane said. “Well, not as often as I
might. It's just a matter of being really organized. I
appreciate your coming along to help out at the end
though.”

“So what's the plan?” Shelley asked as they buckled their
seat belts and Jane handed her a map. Shelley held it out
in front of her at a significant distance. Jane considered
opening a discussion about bifocals, but decided it
wouldn't be politic when Shelley was being helpful.

“Today we just look everything over,” Jane said. “I've got
a rough sketch of the house plan, but I've never actually
been there. I drove out there last week, but couldn't get
the guy who lives there to come to the door. I should have
called ahead.”

“Somebody lives in this place?”

“A man Livvy calls ‘Uncle Joe.' A familyretainer who takes
care of the building and grounds. For the time being, at
least. The place is scheduled toe torn down this summer to
put in a country club. Let's see--what else is happening
today? The caterer is coming to look over the kitchens and
move in his own cooking paraphernalia and the food, and
the florist is alsocoming out today to figure out where to
put all the arrangements. Then there's the seamstress.”
Jane waved good-bye to her mother-in-law, who was staying
with the children while Jane was gone, and pulled out into
the street.

“The seamstress is coming early?”

“Well, that's the only problem I foresee,” Jane
admitted. “You see, the bridesmaids' dresses aren't done
yet. I've nagged and nagged and she keeps assuring me
they'll be finished, but I have my doubts. So I insisted
that she bring her sewing machine up to the lodge to
finish them so I can stand right over her and keep on
nagging.”

“And maybe have to finish the dresses yourself?” Shelley
said. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! You think I'll finish
them!”

“It had crossed my mind,” Jane said, grinning. “You're
awfully good at sewing. Much better than I am.”

“Jane, you know I don't sew! When have you ever seen me
with a needle and thread in hand?”

“But you're so good at everything,” Jane said with gooey
sweetness.

Shelley snorted. “You don't have to bribe me with false
flattery. I'm already in this with you. So what did the
place look like? I'm a bit wary of lodges of any sort.”

That was understandable. The previous fall, Shelley and
Jane had been part of a committee investigating a resort
facility that had put in a bid to provide a camping
experience for their local high school. The weekend had
quite incidentally included a double murder and the two
women had spent a number of harrowing hours in the main
lodge of the resort.“Nothing like the Titus place,” Jane
assured her. “It just looks like a monastery that was
turned into a hunting lodge. Really big. Old. Sprawling
every which way. Additions that look like they might peel
off the main building any second. The Thatchers must be
very fond of the place to want to have a wedding there.”

“I thought you just said they were letting it be torn
down.”

Jane nodded. “Fond enough, at least, to have one last big
party there before making a killing on the country club
deal.”

After an hour, they stopped at what they judged to be the
last outpost of civilization that served breakfast and
Shelley asked, “Has the seamstress finished the wedding
dress?”

“Oh, yes. And it's beautiful. Mrs. Crossthwait is a very
difficult woman, but her work is fantastic. It's just the
bridesmaids who might have to wear pattern pieces and
swatches. They all agreed to come today for their final
fittings.”“What are their dresses like?”

“All different. I picked a cherry pink slubbed silk and
let them each choose whatever kind of dress suited them.”

“Jane! What a good idea. Bridesmaid dresses usually are to
the taste of the bride, not the wearer, and hang around
useless in closets the rest of their lives. I still have
the revolting yellow pinafore thingie I had to wear in a
cousin's wedding just because I can't stand to get rid of
something I've only worn once. Can you picture me in a
pinafore-style dress?”

Jane laughed at the image. “I understand these girls--
there are three of them--are very different shapes and
sizes. One is wearing a little slip dress with a matching
shawl scarf. The plump one picked a boxy jacket and A-line
skirt and the third is froufrou. Sort of ‘plantation
prom,' from the looks of the pattern. But at least they'll
all have the same color and fabric. And the bride is
carrying a bouquet of matching pink tulips.”

“Jane, I hate to admit it, but I'm really impressed. You
figured this all out yourself?”