Engaged in Death (A Wedding Planner Mystery) Read Online Free Page A

I’m the executor of Sylvia Pierce’s estate. I need to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Please call me back. This is the sixth message I’ve left.”
    “Sounds sexy.” Rachel wiggled her eyebrows.
    “I’m done with men. Forever.” I reached for the phone and deleted the message. I didn’t need it, since I had five others just like it.
    “I know you feel that way now, but you’ll be all right. These things just take time. Now, what do you have to eat?”
    My eyes strayed to the trash can, overflowing with wrappers from the Snickers bars foraged from the vending machine down the hall, undoing the miles of runs I’d put in the last three months to prepare for that damn, cursed wedding.
    “Umm . . .” A hot blush warmed my cheeks.
    “Let’s get you a shower, then go out to eat. You need real food, and frankly, this isn’t healthy.”
    I smiled at my sister. The first genuine one to cross my face in a few days. Back when we were latchkey kids, I had been practically my sister’s only caretaker, as our mom worked double time to get her decorating and staging business off the ground. While Mom was launching her career, I’d sat with Rachel after school, fixing her snacks and asking about her day. It felt odd but sweet to be fussed over by my little sister for a change.
    “Actually, I need to get to a funeral. How’d you get here? Do you have a car?”
    “I rented one for the next three weeks.”
    My eyes narrowed, the warm fuzzy feeling gone. “You rented one, or Mom and Doug did?”
    It was my sister’s turn to blush, and I had my answer. There was no way Rachel could afford to rent a car for three weeks on her hodgepodge of part-time jobs. Mom and my stepdad, Doug, had a soft spot for Rachel, funding her misadventures and paying to get her out of scrapes, though they didn’t have a penny to spare now they were retired.
    “Fine. Mind if I borrow it?”
    “You can’t. Only the person renting can drive it, but I can go to the funeral with you. Who died?” She said this with her characteristic bluntness as she reached for the remote.
    “Sylvia. Ke—his grandmother.” I couldn’t even bear to say Keith’s name. I feared I’d break out in hives.
    “The really old one? Aw, she was the one you liked.” Rachel got up to paw through one of her suitcases. “That sucks, Mall. Are you sure you’re up for this? Keith and his mom are going to be there.”
    “I know. I’m going to hide in the back and wear my Jackie O sunglasses. We can sneak in after it starts. Helene cares too much about appearances to make a scene during a funeral. And he does whatever she wants, so he’ll behave. With any luck, we’ll just have to look at the backs of their heads.” I shuddered at the thought of even that minimal contact.
    Rachel applied some red lipstick as if suiting up for battle. “We can pull this off. If you’re really set on going.”
    “I owe it to Sylvia.”
    “I think I have something to wear to a funeral.”
    “Let’s see if it’s appropriate,” I mumbled under my breath.
    “What was that?” Rachel continued to dig through her suitcase.
    “Nothing. Let’s get ready.”
    * * *
    We arrived at the Port Quincy First Presbyterian Church five minutes after the funeral began but, for us, right on schedule. My hair was sticking out in a corona around my head, thanks to the ride in Rachel’s rented convertible Mini Cooper.
    “I don’t know why we had to leave the top down.” I tried to flatten the hair I’d carefully straightened at the motel.
    “The convertible was a free upgrade. It’s summer. Make the most of it.” Rachel slammed her door shut and ran her hands through her wavy, unscathed tresses. If anything, the wind had made her hair look even better, all beachy and tousled. She sashayed down the street to the church.
    The wide oak doors were propped open, and we entered as discreetly as possible, sliding into a pew in the very last row. The minister was intoning away at the