Page 133 of Seale the Deal

She nods and takes a bite of the tart, her eyes fluttering closed.

Good Lord, she says between bites. We should’ve thought about a bridal party weeks ago. The food alone makes it worth it.

I grab a cucumber and shake my head. That’s your takeaway from this incredibly kind gesture?

Currently? Yes. When she swallows, she lowers her voice slightly. These women are geniuses. They’ve thought of things I never would’ve considered, like aisle runners.

What’s that?

I have absolutely no idea, but they sounded really excited talking about it, so it must be important.

Remi turns her attention back to the food again while I look around the room. It’s a little surreal watching relative strangers put this much effort into a wedding that technically shouldn’t even exist.

Well, there’s the bride.

I turn to see Bonnie standing with a plate of food in hand.

Oh, hi, Bonnie, I say.

Remi immediately turns around with a cucumber sandwich in one hand and a tart in the other.

Bonnie, she says around a mouthful of food.

Bonnie clicks her tongue. Honestly, Remington Seale. Manners.

Remi swallows. Sorry. Pass me a plate?

Bonnie hums and does as Remi asks before turning her attention back to me.

Well, she says, eyeing me in a way that’s more than uncomfortable. Everything certainly seems to be coming together for this wedding.

The way she says this wedding makes it sound like she’s still not entirely convinced it exists, despite giving us the certificate.

It does, I say carefully.

Funny how it all worked out.

What’s funny about it? Remi asks.

Bonnie shrugs. Oh, nothing. Just that one day, Ruger’s single, and the next, the whole town is planning a wedding for a mysterious outsider. It’s enough to make a woman wonder if there’s more to the story.

I open my mouth to say something, but Remi touches my arm. I know what she’s saying without saying it, that there is no safe response here.

A smug smile comes over her face. Though I suppose secrets run in the Seale family. She picks up a cherry tomato and examines it. I happened to notice a certain non-resident slipping out of a certain author’s house awfully early the other morning.

Remi tenses beside me. This woman isn’t just a gossip; she’s a predator.

Bonnie takes a bite of her food, then daintily dabs at her lips. Of course, it’s none of my business.

That statement would be far more convincing if it had ever once been true.

Besides, Bonnie continues, if there’s one thing I’ve learned living in Alpine Harbor, it’s that the truth always comes out eventually.

Her eyes flick between me and Remi.

Then she smiles. Enjoy your party, girls.

And then she wanders off, likely looking for her next victim.