Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,2

dining room was red. The kitchen had aqua appliances and an avocado countertop. Or was it avocado appliances and an aqua countertop? The fact that I honestly couldn’t remember said something about how paranoid I am when it comes to cooking.

Needless to say, I am not a cabbage roses, violets, red, aqua, or avocado kind of girl.

And (just as needless to say) one of the reasons I love Jim is that he realizes it and he’s willing to change things to accommodate my tastes.

“But shouldn’t I have some say?” I lamented, as if he was following my train of thought.

Jim, ever patient, took me by the shoulders and turned me away from the window. “I’m in charge of the renovations.”

“But—”

“Uh!” Like I said, he’d reminded me of our agreement a couple dozen times already, so I guess that gave him every right to shush me. He knew continuing our conversation would get him nowhere so he smoothly changed the subject. “Did ye go get your dress fitted this morning like you were supposed to do?”

“Yes.” Was that me sounding so peeved? About what I knew was going to be the happiest day of my life?

I shook off my disappointment and crossed the porch so I could flop down on the front steps. “The dress is beautiful and it fits perfectly.”

“But?” Jim sat down beside me.

I sighed. “But Eve is taking this wedding and turning it into a coronation.” Jim laughed; I wasn’t trying to be funny. I made a face. “I told her just what I told you last fall when we got engaged. I’m not looking for the social event of the season. That’s not what this wedding is supposed to be about.”

“And I’ll tell you what I told you then. If Eve’s involved, things are bound to get . . . well . . . involved.”

“I should have listened.”

“And kept your best friend from being a part of your wedding?”

He was right. He knew it, and so did I. I gave in with as much of a smile as I could produce. “I’d never leave Eve out of the loop. I adore Eve. And besides, she’s planned so many of her own weddings, I figured she’d be the perfect one to do all the groundwork. I just never thought . . .”

Jim patted my knee. “You need to stand up to her.”

I groaned. “I’ve done my best. When she wanted that flock of doves—”

“She wanted a flock of doves?”

He turned so pale, I had to laugh. “It was a passing fancy and luckily, it passed quickly. So did the idea about the limo, and the candlelight procession and Doctor Masakazu as ring bearer.” I shivered at the very thought of Eve’s beloved and incredibly spoiled Japanese terrier being part of the ceremony. “I’ve reined her in. Honest. But now she’s talking champagne toasts and floral bouquets and—”

“Well, there will have to be champagne toasts.” Jim made it clear that the subject wasn’t open to discussion. “You can’t expect me to celebrate the best thing that ever happened to me without a champagne toast or two. Then”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“I will happily switch to a nice dark and foamy beer.”

“It’s not the toasts I’m objecting to, it’s the silver-plated champagne fountain. And I don’t mind flowers. Of course I don’t mind flowers at a wedding. But carnations can be just as pretty as orchids, and there isn’t room in Belly-washer’s for the kind of gigantic floral sprays Eve is talking about. They’d fill the bar and leave no room for guests. And she wants your cousin Fi’s children in the wedding, too. All of them!” It’s not that I dislike children. In fact, I’d like to have a couple of my own. But I knew Emma, Lucy, Doris, Gloria, Wendy, Rosemary, and Alice all too well. When they stayed with Jim for a couple weeks the previous spring, Eve had taken them under her wing and transformed the girls from hellions into well-behaved young ladies. These days . . . well, without Eve’s constant tutoring and with a new little brother to tease, the girls were back to their couch-jumping, sister-pushing, careening-through-the-house selves. I knew this for a fact because Fi and Richard had just moved to the area from Florida and we’d seen them the previous weekend. My head was still pounding.

I sighed, and I knew Jim understood. I’d bet his head was still pounding, too. “That’s not the kind of wedding I want. You know that, Jim.