Eve’s Wedding Knight

seemed very short. What was next for her-the Witness Protection Program?

Tears sprang to her eyes. Hoping to forestall them, she guzzled more wine. Then all at once she burped-loudly. Oops. Damn… she must be getting tipsy. Couldn’t have that-had to keep her wits about her.

It seemed pretty quiet out there in the alley. Okeydokey, Eve thought, this is it. Now or never.

She floundered around for a few moments as she searched for solid footing amid the bags of garbage, but managed to achieve a more or less upright, if crouching position. Then cautiously pushed upward, lifting the lid with one hand while she peeked under the edge. Aha-the coast was clear. She lifted one leg, clad in a lacy white stocking, over the edge of the bin.

It had seemed a whole lot easier getting into the bin than it did getting out. Something to do with adrenaline, probably. And possibly gravity…

That was her last thought before gravity took control of her exit from the Dumpster, as well. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back on the filthy cobblestones with half of her face on fire and her skirts hiked up in a bunch around her hips.

No doubt, she acknowledged as she groaned her way into a sitting position, it would have gone easier on her if she hadn’t been holding on to the bottle of champagne. But no way was she letting anything happen to that bottle, nosiree. Not when it had cost her… she’d forgotten how many bucks. But lots. And she didn’t intend to waste a drop of it just because she’d been stupid enough to marry a mobster. Almost marry a mobster.

Marry! Oh, Lord, she’d forgotten about that. Right this very minute there was a whole bunch of people sitting in there, in that church, who’d come to see her get married! Her family, her film crew, her friends. Sonny’s friends and business associates, and-good heavens, were they all mobsters, too?

What was she going to do? She had to tell them something.

She had to find her sisters, that’s what. Summer and Mirabella. They’d know what to do.

Yes. Get to the church, Evie. You’ll be safe there.

Holding on to the side of the Dumpster, she managed to haul herself painfully to her feet. Oh, Jeez-her hands were scraped, too-and filthy. And she was bleeding! Tiny red polka dots spangled the sleeve and bodice of her wedding dress. Where had that come from? She touched her face and winced. She thought, What must I look like? Like I’ve been mugged, at least.

Never had she felt more stupid, more humiliated or more frightened. Please God, she thought, just let me get to my sisters before anybody sees me. Before Sonny finds me.

She’d almost forgotten about Sonny.

Back down the alley she crept, making almost no sound in her stockinged feet. Just before she reached the arched breezeway, she froze in a comical, teetering half crouch. Voices! Yes, definitely Sonny’s voice. And Sergei and Rick’s, too. Mumbling, so she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

But then suddenly, and very distinctly, Sonny was saying, “Where’s she gonna go? She’s wearin’ a wedding dress, for God’s sake!” There was some more mumbling from one of the two stooges, then Sonny again. “I’m tellin’ you, she’s got no keys, no purse, nothin‘. Her whole family’s in there. I’m tellin’ you, that’s where she’s gonna go. You two get those entrances covered. If any of her family even looks like they wanna leave, you tell me, and then you tail ‘em, you got me? Now go!”

“What’re you gonna do, boss?”

“Whadaya mean, what am I gonna do? I’m gonna go find the damn preacher, that’s what. Hey-I don’t know a thing, right? I’m here to get married, so I’m gonna go get married. What do I know?” He muttered angrily to himself under his breath, then said in a bitter tone, “My bride doesn’t show up, I’m gonna look like a chump. In front of the whole world I’m gonna look like a blinkin’ chump…” His voice faded, still mumbling, into the distance.

Eve slumped against the stone wall of the rectory and let out her breath. Boy, was Sonny ticked off. His ego was bruised. What could be worse for a man like Sonny than looking like a fool? He was never going to forgive her for this-never.

What was she saying? Forgive her? At the very least, it seemed to her, he was going to have to kill her. Or have her killed, more likely; murder didn’t seem like the sort of thing Sonny Cisneros would actually indulge in himself.

But first he’d have to catch her.

Except… like Sonny had just said, where was she gonna go? Cut off from her family, with no purse, no car keys, no shoes, wearing a filthy dirty wedding dress, battered, bleeding and reeking of garbage?

For once in her life, Eve had no idea what to do.

This time, when, after a discreet knock, the parlor door opened a crack, it was the minister who poked his head through. Reverend Booker was a brisk, balding man with a no-nonsense manner more typical of a CEO than a man of God. Mirabella wholeheartedly approved of him.

“How’re you ladies doin‘?” he inquired now in his soft Savannah accent, after a quick, sweeping glance around the room.

“Fine!” stated Mirabella, before Summer could open her mouth and blurt out the obvious.

The obvious had not escaped Reverend Booker, who raised his eyebrows and said mildly, “It appears we are missin’ a bride.”

Again Mirabella jumped in and rolled right over her sister’s stammering attempt at an explanation. “She just stepped out for a minute. She’ll be right back.”

“Well, okay, then.” The minister looked at his watch, then double-checked it against the clock on the mantelpiece. “We’re gonna want to have the bride and her party out front in the narthex at about ten minutes till. Miz Phillips is gonna meet you out there, get you all lined up and squared away, just like we did at rehearsal.” Mrs. Phillips was the wedding coordinator, an almost frighteningly efficient woman of whom Mirabella also approved. “That’s about it,” said Reverend Booker cheerfully as he backed out of the room. “Now, I guess I’d bettah go and round up my groom.”

Mirabella’s stomach did a flip-flop and she threw Summer a look of appeal. How unbelievably embarrassing it would be if the minister, of all people, were to walk in on… whatever it was Evie was doing with her fiance over there in the rectory!

But she was saved from having to think of an excuse to detain the man longer. No sooner had he finished his statement than his face brightened and he said, “I guess I don’t have to.”

And there was the groom himself, coming up behind Reverend Booker in the parlor doorway, smiling and showing every one of his pearly whites-caps, in Mirabella’s opinion; like everything else about her sister’s fiance, those teeth were just too perfect to be real.

Swallowing whatever it was she was going to say, she instead gasped, “Sonny!” And dammit, she was going to blush; she could feel it coming on. How could she not? He could smile all he wanted to, like butter wouldn’t melt m his mouth, as Granny Calhoun would say, but anybody could see the man was a lot more flushed and sweaty and disheveled than any decent groom ought to be-at least before the ceremony. He looked, in fact, like a man who’d just been doing… whatever he’d been doing with Evie over there m that rectory room. Mirabella gave a mental shudder and drew a curtain across the picture in her mind.

Sonny stuck his head past the minister’s shoulder, looked around the room and then asked, “Where’s my bride? Oh-” he snapped his fingers “-the groom’s not supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress, right? So-she hiding, or something?”

Mirabella and Summer looked at each other. Summer opened her mouth, then closed it again. Mirabella moved a little closer to Sonny and muttered in a voice low enough she hoped the reverend wouldn’t be able to hear, “Uh… you haven’t seen her?”

Sonny laughed and held up both hands. “Hey-even I know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.” As the reverend was hustling him out of the room he made a pretend pistol out of his hand and “fired” it at them.

After the door had closed behind the two men, Mirabella and Summer looked at each other again. Summer collapsed onto the sofa, unmindful of the piles of clothing and other debris, closed her eyes and groaned, “Oh, Evie…”