“I told you, she never went for the right sort of man. Wonder if that’s what was eating at her,” she was saying.

Someone waved to me from a center pew. I grabbed Mama’s hand and we picked our way past knobby knees and feet, finally squeezing in next to a cluster of women. Zinnia James, and her husband, the senator, scooted over to make room for us. I recognized the other women as the ladies Mrs. James had come to Buttons & Bows with the day Nell had died, including Mrs. Abernathy. We all nodded at one another.

The music ended, though the slide show kept playing, and the pastor stepped to the pew and began the service.

Mrs. James leaned toward me. “Very sad,” she said quietly.

I watched the images on the screen. “It sure is,” I whispered. I could feel tears welling at the corners of my eyes. You didn’t have to know a person to be sad at his or her passing, particularly when it was a life cut short, like Nell’s. If there was a lesson to be learned, it was that things could change in an instant.

The pastor spoke about Nell’s contribution to Bliss, the energy and vitality she brought when she’d come here, and the friends who would sorely miss her. By the time he finished, there was hardly a dry eye in the church. She may have been a troubled girl, but she’d grown into a woman who’d touched a lot of people’s lives. More than she probably ever realized.

As we filed out of the church, I lost Mama in the crowd, but stuck close to Mrs. James and her husband, making small talk and trying to chase away the lingering sadness by mentioning chartreuse as a color I’d like to explore for the gown I’d be making for her. Many people gathered in clusters on the sidewalk, while some headed straight to their cars and still others were strolling to the square and Seed-n-Bead, where the reception would be.

The Kincaids passed us, followed by a group of people I didn’t recognize. Josie and her family shuffled past. I blinked and for a second I could see her in her wedding gown, gliding down the aisle toward her groom. I closed my eyes again and the vision was gone. When I looked up, Nate’s arm was at the small of her back, gently guiding her.

“They’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. James said to her husband. Or to me. Or maybe to both of us.

The senator mumbled a noncommittal reply. I nodded, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that the loveliness might be short-lived.

Ted Mitchell came next, his smartphone in his hand, his thumb working furiously as he tapped the keyboard. I leaned close to Mrs. James and pointed at him. “Do you know him?” I asked in a low voice.

“Who, the Kincaids’ lawyer?”

My mind screeched to a halt. The Kincaids’ what? “He’s their lawyer?”

“Yes. His name’s Ted Mitchell. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “His wife was at your shop that day. One of the bridesmaids, in fact. Can’t say I trust him—he’s a lawyer, after all—but he’s friendly enough.”

“Zinnia,” the senator said in a quiet voice. “Gossip.”

The warning in those two words was clear, but Mrs. James just shrugged. “You feel the same way,” she said to him.

He dug his hand into his suit pocket, pulling out his vibrating cell phone. “Prying eyes and ears,” he replied, adding, “Excuse me,” as he wandered away from us to take a call.

She dismissed him and his warning with a wave of her hand. “Punctilious to a fault.”

That word wasn’t part of my Southern vernacular, but I connected the dots. “I guess senators need to be careful what they say.”

“Oh, yes, perfect decorum and behavior at all times,” she said, wagging her finger like she was scolding me. Luckily she smiled. She and her husband seemed to understand each other, all the more reason she and Nana should let bygones be bygones, I thought.

She took my elbow, guiding me down the steps of the church. We turned and walked along the sidewalk toward the bead shop.

“So why don’t you trust him? Ted Mitchell, I mean.”

She took a moment to consider her words before responding. “Besides his career choice? Did you ever see The Godfather?”

I smirked. “Oh, yeah. My brother’s all-time favorite movie. I’ve probably seen it a hundred times. I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” I said, barely moving my lips, doing my best mumbled Marlon Brando.

“Nicely done.” She chuckled. “It’s a classic.” We walked half a block in silence before she said, “Jeb was right. I don’t really know him, so I shouldn’t say a word.”

I felt a but coming.

“But . . .”

Ha!

“. . . with the Kincaids being an oil and gas family, I can’t help but think of Tom Hagen. Remember him?”

Remember him? I could hear Don Corleone’s adopted son, played by Robert Duvall, in my head as he said, “Sonny . . . ?”

We crossed the street at the corner. Mrs. James’s high heels slowed her down. I filed away the observation so I’d remember to recommend a low heel to go with the gown I designed for her. “Ted’s a bit taller, and has more hair than Tom Hagen,” she said, “but he has the same blind loyalty.”

I never figured the Kincaids as a Mob-type family but it would explain why Ted Mitchell was on duty at the funeral instead of comforting his wife. The lawyer knew who buttered his cornbread.

Seed-n-Bead was already crowded when we arrived. Josie waved to me from inside. Even from this distance I could see how drawn her face was. It looked like she’d lost ten pounds since she’d first set foot in Buttons & Bows. Her dress was going to need altering and I wasn’t even finished with it yet. “Best be fixin’ to work on it to the very last second,” Mama had said after she’d caught a glimpse of Josie in the church. If there ended up being a wedding.

A group of people walked around Mrs. James and me, filing into the shop. The senator brought up the rear. Mrs. James said good-bye to me, took his arm as he approached, and they went in together.

Ted Mitchell strode up the sidewalk, Karen scurrying along after him, taking twice the number of steps that he did. “The same loyalty,” Zinnia James had said, comparing Don Corleone’s lawyer, Tom Hagen, to Ted Mitchell. The image stuck in my mind. What else did I know about him? So Ted worked for the Kincaid family. At Karen’s insistence, he’d helped Nell write a will. If his loyalty to Keith Kincaid extended to Keith’s sons, then maybe meeting with Nell about a will was just an excuse. If the family had gotten wind of the pregnancy, maybe he’d really been trying to intimidate Nell to stop her from revealing it.

On the evidence of how’d they treated Miriam during her divorce and what Will had said about the Kincaids, it was a safe bet that they would not want Nell’s secret coming out.

Just a few yards shy of reaching the door to Seed-n-Bead, Ted answered his cell phone and abruptly changed course. With a quick, dismissive wave to Karen, he darted into the street, dodged a truck, and cut across to the grass in front of the courthouse, phone still pressed to his ear.

I made a split-second decision and dashed across the street after him.

Chapter 41

Ted Mitchell disappeared around the north side of the courthouse. I slowed. Barreling around the corner in funeral attire might be a little obvious. Surely not how a private eye would do it. Of course I was just a dressmaker, but being the great-great-great-granddaughter of Butch Cassidy and Texana Harlow meant adventure was in my genes.

I was doing a fast walk now, jabbing my glasses back into place and blowing upward to get the spirals of hair out of my face.

I turned the corner and stopped short. Whirling around, I scanned the courthouse green. Where in tarnation did he go?

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