Olivia’s parents stood by the door, ready to greet their guests. I met Mrs. Blocken’s gaze and the temperature dropped several degrees. Then again, some things never change.
Chapter Three
I hadn’t spoken to Olivia’s parents since the unfortunate incident at Olivia’s high school graduation party. Sure, sometimes I would spot them in the local market but would dive down the next available aisle before they could recognize me.
“Look who’s here,” Olivia told her parents.
Mrs. Blocken extended a narrow hand with polished nails. She barely brushed my hand with hers. “Thank you for coming.”
Mrs. Blocken had abandoned the helmet bob that had bolstered her through the decades. In its place, she’d fashioned her hair in a short cut. Her hair was only a deeper shade of red than her daughter’s. The coif framed her face and elongated her tight neck. Plastic surgery? I thought so. She wore a sundress so frighteningly similar to Olivia’s that I blinked. Bobby noticed the twin routine too, judging by the amused expression on his face.
I introduced Bobby, and Mrs. Blocken held out her hand to Bobby in the same manner that she had to me. However, when he took it, she held on longer than necessary. Bobby’s physical appearance enthralled all generations of women. “And will you be India’s guest for the wedding?”
A look of panic flashed across Bobby’s face.
I took mercy on him. “No, unfortunately Bobby is working next Saturday. He’s a fellow librarian at Martin.”
Mrs. Blocken eyed me. “Then who are you bringing?”
“No one,” I said, the fake smile on my face already starting to hurt. “I didn’t think it would be fair to bring a date since I will be so busy as a bridesmaid.”
Bobby snorted, and I covertly stomped on his sandaled foot.
Mrs. Blocken’s attention returned to Bobby. “Are you all right?”
He gave her one of his charming smiles. “Whatever you’re cooking smells heavenly.”
She beamed. “Why, thank you.”
I mentally rolled my eyes and turned to Dr. Blocken, who stood quiet beside his wife. Even though he tipped the scale at three hundred pounds and resembled a bear, Dr. Blocken was an utterly forgettable man in the shadow of his wife’s personality. He practiced dentistry in one of the oldest dental offices in Stripling. I recently heard from my mother, who had an ear for town gossip, that Mrs. Blocken wanted her husband to retire that year so that they could jet set through the Keys and the Continent. My mother told me that Dr. Blocken was resisting her. He would eventually fold, I suspected, but I liked him better for trying to stand up to Regina Blocken.
Dr. Blocken pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His nails were bitten to the quick. “I thought I saw you shopping for groceries the other day, but whoever I saw disappeared, and I couldn’t be sure.”
I laughed hollowly.
Bobby disentangled his hand from Mrs. Blocken, and she paraded us to the backyard.
Even though the sponged and dry-brushed walls of the Blocken home grated on my nerves, I preferred the cool relief of the Blocken’s central air to the sweltering backyard. Bobby didn’t appear too thrilled, either.
The lawn was expertly maintained. The grass, if measured, would prove to be exactly one inch high, and the flowers and plants were the attractive, if unimaginative, sort found outside of banks and office buildings. Every exposed patch of dirt was buried in a mound of pungent black mulch.
Two umbrella tables sat on the generous patio. A gorgeous woman and a burly, thirty-something man sat at one of the tables. A sullen-looking teenager slouched alone at the other, slumped on a patio chair with her arms folded in a defiant, piss-off pose. She wore baggy boys shorts and a T-shirt that read, You’re not the brightest crayon in the box, are you? She had her improbably yellow hair cropped close to her head.
With a start, I realized the teen was Olivia’s fifteen-year-old sister, Olga. I only recognized her because, despite the hair and the shirt, she was the identical version of Olivia’s teenaged self. I looked at her and at Olivia and back again. They had the same smooth forehead, straight nose, and wide mouth. For some reason, I found seeing Olga sitting at that table looking like she was ready to bolt more jarring to me than seeing Olivia earlier in the driveway. The last time I saw Olga she was eight or nine. That is how much time had passed between then and now, between seeing Olivia and her family every day to not at all.
Olivia introduced the stunning woman, model-thin with a thick mane of curly black hair, as Bree Butler, Olivia’s former college roommate and maid of honor. I guessed she was of Mediterranean descent, maybe Greek, although her last name suggested nothing of the kind.
Bree stood and hugged me. “Olivia always talked about your misadventures together. Did you really get lost in the sewer for two days when you were eleven?”
I glanced at Bobby for help, but he was lost to me, floored by Bree’s beauty. “More like two hours.”
“Bree’s a special education teacher at a public elementary school in Virginia,” Olivia told Bree. “India’s a librarian at Martin College. You probably have so much in common.”
Right, I thought.
Bobby added, “I’m a librarian, too. India and I are coworkers.”
Thank you, Bobby.
Bree giggled for no good reason. “I’d love to see Martin while I’m here.” She seemed to recollect me. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”
I glanced at the picnic table three feet away lined with soft drinks, iced tea, and lemonade. “Nothing thanks.”
“Bobby, can I get
He shook his head mutely. It would be a long time before he recovered his voice.
“Olivia?” Bree asked.
Olivia waved her hand at the burly man. Using my world-renowned powers of deduction, I concluded that the man was Kirk, Olivia’s fiancé, and that he could bench-press my weight. Without looking at Bree, she said, “Bottled water, make sure it’s spring water, in a glass with a handful of ice.”
“Right away.” Bree scurried off.
I glanced at Bobby to see if he’d noticed Olivia’s dismissive tone. If he had, he didn’t indicate it. His eyes had followed Bree.
Kirk rose from the table and lumbered toward us. He was an inch shorter than Olivia, who stood approximately five feet five. His hair was too blond and his skin too tanned. Husky and thick-chested, he reminded me of a lumberjack except he wore prep, not flannel, in a tight black T-shirt and tailored jean shorts. The effect was very S.W.A.T. meets weekend-wear. His biceps were so pronounced, his arms couldn’t rest easily at his sides. I towered over him in my flip-flops. Bemused, I wondered how Mrs. Blocken was going to trick him into wearing lifts during the ceremony. He kissed Olivia on the cheek.
After Olivia made introductions, Kirk extended his hand first to Bobby then to me. The men shook harder than necessary in a testosterone Alamo.
I wondered if he could crack a walnut with his calves.
Kirk turned to me. “I’ve heard so much about you. Did you really set your parents’ garage on fire?”
Olivia had evidently presented me as quite a hellion. “I was experimenting with a wood burner and a hot glue gun.”
Bree returned with Olivia’s water. Bobby preened, running his fingers through his impeccable mane then shaking it out.
“Kirk, do you want something to drink?” He nodded at her glass, and she half-turned to Bree. “Bree?”
Bree scurried off. Bobby watched her go, then looked at Olivia. “How did you and Kirk meet?”
Olivia laughed. “We work together.”
So much for the great love-lost plot Bobby desired. She raised Kirk’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. Kirk beamed. If they started making out, I’d make a break for it.
“Kirk owns a small chain of gyms in Virginia called Kirk’s Fitness Center.”
