He was right. Jaclyn took a deep breath. As things stood now, she was the one who had grounds for making any charges, if she chose to go that route. She wouldn’t, so long as Carrie didn’t escalate and hit someone else, but she should be smart and hold to her legal high ground. And, for Premier’s sake, she would end this association as professionally as possible.

“I think all of the appointments should be rescheduled for another day,” she said calmly, giving Bishop and Irena looks that said Get Estefani out of here, as well as I’ll be okay.

“Who gives a fuck what you think?” Carrie asked viciously. “These people work for me, not you!”

Maybe so, but “these people” were moving to do exactly what Jaclyn had suggested, picking up the items scattered on the floor, replacing them on the table. Melissa picked up Jaclyn’s appointment book and was brave enough to approach with it in her hand. “Thank you,” Jaclyn said, taking the book. Melissa immediately backed away again, out of striking distance. As Carrie’s hand moved as if she would slap the book from Jaclyn’s grasp, she said sharply, “If you hit me again, I’ll have you arrested. Is that plain? It’ll make a great headline in the newspaper.”

“I have some paperwork to do,” Melissa ventured, and Jaclyn gave her a brief nod, telling her that clearing the deck was the best thing she could do right now. Melissa wheeled and in short order had the room cleared, the vendors’ tense but muted voices fading as they walked down the hallway.

The two women faced each other, both of them squared off and ready for battle.

It was probably the part about the newspaper, rather than being arrested, that made Carrie clench her jaw and keep her hand by her side. “Do you think any Atlanta cop would do anything to me, considering who I’m marrying?”

“Maybe not, but you aren’t in Atlanta. You’re in Hopewell, and I’m involved with one of the detectives, so you might not fare so well with him,” Jaclyn said, seizing on Eric as a weapon even though he might dispute the “involved” part. “Regardless of that, if you hit me again I’m pretty sure I could hit you back and everyone here would testify that I was defending myself. Before you go that route, you should know that I take kickboxing, and I can wipe the floor with your ass.”

Okay, so much for being professional. The part about kickboxing was a lie, too, but damn if she didn’t mean it about wiping the floor with Carrie’s ass. She was so angry she was pretty sure she could do it. And whether it was the expression on her face or her threat, Carrie reevaluated her actions.

“As if I’d brawl with you like two bar sluts,” she sneered. “You might as well leave. I’ll expect my refund check in the mail within the week.”

“I’ll see to it immediately,” Jaclyn said. “Though the amount will be prorated by the time I’ve spent on the job, most of which has been accomplished.”

Carrie’s face flushed an ugly red. “I want the full amount refunded. If you’d done your job, you wouldn’t have been fired!”

“Read the contract you signed. I believe you might receive a thousand or so in refund.” Considering how hefty Premier’s fee had been, it wouldn’t bother her at all to send Carrie a check for a thousand dollars. In fact, it would be downright satisfying.

“We’ll see about that!” Carrie hissed. “My lawyer will be in contact.”

“As soon as possible, please. And be certain to tell him there were five witnesses who saw you strike me. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with that.” The adrenaline burning through her made her bare her teeth in a smile that probably looked more like a snarl. Jaclyn had never been in a fight in her life, at least not one that got physical, but she was almost hoping Carrie would take another swing at her because she’d never wanted anything as much in her life as she wanted to punch the bitch on the nose.

“If they want to keep their jobs, they’ll be smart and not say anything,” Carrie said, but her cold, watchful gaze was less certain.

Jaclyn snorted. “They could all walk away and have other jobs within the hour. Which is what I’ll do,” she added, “and there’s no way it won’t be with someone I like more. Have a happy wedding. Maybe someone will show up, other than the poor victim … uh, groom.”

The childish shot didn’t do anything to lessen her anger but it did make her feel better. She spun on her heel and stalked off. For whatever reason Carrie didn’t yell anything else at her, so she even had the satisfaction of having the last word.

With every step she took the weight on her shoulders lessened. Free! The way it had happened was ugly, but she was released from the burden of dealing with Carrie ever again. From here on out, nothing that happened was her problem. By the time she reached her car she was beginning to think her throbbing cheek was worth the end result.

She unlocked the car and opened the door, standing there for a minute while some of the fierce afternoon heat dissipated from the interior. Taking out her cell phone, she called her mother. Madelyn answered quickly and brightly, obviously curious about how the afternoon had gone, but not curious enough to spend the afternoon at the reception hall, in the midst of the action.

“It’s done?” Madelyn asked.

“Yep—in more ways than one.”

Madelyn’s voice immediately changed, taking on a wary tone. “What happened?”

“A lot. We’re going to have to throw a lot of business to these vendors before they forgive us for Carrie Edwards. Gretchen quit. The others may, too. And, best of all, Carrie fired me.” She didn’t want to go into details right then, because her emotions were still running hot, her self-control was holding but was a tad shaky, and she wanted time to calm down before she told Madelyn exactly how it had all gone down.

“Hallelujah,” Madelyn breathed. “Tell me all. Can you meet me at Claire’s for coffee? I have almost an hour to kill before I meet the party for tonight’s wedding.”

A cup of coffee, and maybe one of Claire’s fabulous blueberry muffins, would be a great way to wind down after a tense afternoon. “I can be there in less than ten minutes.”

“I can be there in five. Tell me what you want and I’ll have it waiting.”

Jaclyn complied, ended the call, and got in her car. As she started the engine a silver sedan pulled into the parking slot to her right. A man stepped out of the car, and she stopped to look at him because she had to wonder if Carrie had scheduled any other meetings she didn’t know about. Anything was possible. But she didn’t recognize the gray-haired man who was wearing a well-cut gray suit, with a white shirt and a red tie; he was probably someone arriving to see Melissa about booking the hall. He glanced in her direction as he strode toward the side door, but his mind was definitely elsewhere.

She hoped he was lucky enough not to encounter Carrie. If he did, that was his tough luck.

It was so not her problem!


Chapter Seven

JACLYN USED THE FAIRLY BRIEF DRIVE TO TRY TO CLEAR her mind and settle down, because Madelyn was going to be upset enough when she heard what had happened. She didn’t want to add to her mother’s agitation by being an emotional wreck; she wanted to be calm and cheerful about the outcome even if the way it had happened was enraging.

She deliberately didn’t think about Carrie. Instead she imagined a nice, hot cup of coffee and a warm blueberry muffin. She didn’t indulge in the muffins very often, so having one was a real treat, one she thought was well-deserved—though whether as consolation or reward was up in the air. Thinking of coffee made her think of Eric, and she wondered if he liked blueberry muffins, and if he did, would he stop at a chic establishment like Claire’s to get one? Probably not; it wasn’t at all a cop kind of place. Most of the customers were women, but the coffee was good and the baked goods were phenomenal, so maybe she could convert him. All day she’d very determinedly pushed away her thoughts of him, but now she gratefully seized on anything that would take her mind off what had just happened, and help her to calm down—though thinking about Eric made her feel agitated in an entirely different way.

She pulled off the busy street into the small parking lot and spotted her mother sitting in the shade at one of the outdoor tables, all of which sported huge umbrellas to shield the patrons from the sun. The small table held two cups of coffee and a couple of muffins; Madelyn was already pinching bites from one of them. Jaclyn got out of her car and unhurriedly walked through the wrought-iron gate; it could even be said that she sauntered, but it was the memory of Eric that put the slow sway into her hips.

God. Now she knew what the term “in heat” meant, which was not the kind of thought she wanted to be having right now. Maybe she should be thinking of the gorgeous knockout roses that were blooming in the small courtyard, or taking a dip in the community pool tonight—something calming and serene. Thinking of Eric was neither.

She sat down with a grateful sigh and smiled when she saw that Madelyn had even indulged and gotten the muffins with the glazing on top. Madelyn gave her a sudden sharp look, then jerked her sunglasses off and peered at Jaclyn’s face. “What’s wrong with your cheek?” she asked sharply. Jaclyn had so thoroughly succeeded in distracting herself that for a moment all she could do was give her mother a blank stare.

Then she realized her cheek must be red and said, “I can’t believe I forgot. The bitch actually slapped me, and I’m so relieved and happy to be rid of her that it slipped my mind!”

“She slapped you?” Madelyn echoed in an awful tone, her expression shifting into something so fierce as she half rose to her feet that Jaclyn put a calming hand on her mother’s arm. “I’ll have her guts for garters!”

“That’s some nasty, mean, stinky garters you’d have,” Jaclyn said, smiling. “Not that I’m happy she slapped me, but, damn, when you balance that against never having to see her again, the happy way outweighs the pissed off!”

“Maybe for you,” Madelyn hissed, fully on her feet now. “We’re going to press charges. Did you call the cops? Were there witnesses?”

“Mom, I handled it. I didn’t call the cops, but there were five witnesses so we’re covered legally if she tries to hurt Premier’s reputation.”

“I don’t care about Premier!” Madelyn’s eyes were slits of fury, and she was breathing hard. “That low-life poster child for skankhood slapped you, and I’ll be damned if she gets away with it!”

“Mom,” Jaclyn said again, her voice calm and patient. “I handled it. I told her I’d wipe the floor with her ass if she touched me again. I got our vendors out of there before any of them came to blows with her, though with Estefani it was a near thing. She may quit. I wouldn’t blame any of them if they walked away. Would you stop huffing and puffing like a dragon, and sit down? We have something to celebrate!”

Madelyn sat, but she continued fuming. “I know someone who knows Fayre Dennison,” she said. “I’ll make certain word gets to her just what kind of vicious shit-faced fluffer her son is marrying.”

Jaclyn’s eyes went wide in shock that her mother—her mother!—knew what a fluffer was. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again. “Mom!” she said weakly, which was the best she could do.

“What?” Madelyn growled.

“Fluffer?”

“Oh.” A flush warmed her cheeks. She sniffed. “Well. Evidently you know what a fluffer is, too, so you can’t say anything.”

“I found out when I read it on a blog. How do you know what it is?”

“Oh, the same way,” Madelyn said airily.

“Uh-huh,” Jaclyn said. “Right.”

“Don’t go all Victorian on me when I’ve been ready to snatch that bitch bald-headed on your behalf, young lady.”

“And I’m grateful for the hair-snatching sentiment, which has nothing to do with how you know what a fluffer is.”

Madelyn gave her a stern glance. “I’m giving you the compliment of treating you like an adult. I imagine we’ve both done some personal fluffing, so let’s just let the subject drop.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I want to give myself a cushion in case traffic is tied up, but I have another ten minutes or so. Do you have anything else to do, or are you finished for the day?”

“I’m finished. I have a ton of laundry to do, so I think I’ll just go home. The stress of dealing with Carrie has worn me out. I need a couple of hours of HGTV, or maybe the History channel, to unwind.”

“If anything else happens with that heifer, call me immediately. I don’t want you dealing with her again. If she contacts Premier, I’ll handle it.”