BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3) by Leslie Leigh Page B

and, I noticed, younger than Tim by at least ten years. In fact, she was quite attractive. Although she wore a simple pale blue blouse with a dark blue skirt, I noticed a few heads turning as she’d moved about earlier.
    “They would’ve outfitted me like the catering staff,” she said, cocking her head to the nearest server, who wore black slacks, a burgundy shirt and black bow tie, “but I said, ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just wear my usual attire. It’s comfortable and I won’t be mistaken for those folks. I’m just helping out Mrs. Hartford; I don’t want anyone snapping their fingers or tinging their glasses for a refill at me.”
    “That’s what we peasants are here for,” Tim growled, as he stood. “To serve the whims of the chosen ones!” He stumbled as he pushed back his chair, but caught himself.
    “Honey, why don’t you double-check to make sure you reset the irrigation timers? We wouldn’t want to put a damper on the festivities, would we?” As she spoke, she took the glass he’d been drinking from and placed it next to her own. Tim made a snorting sound and walked away.
    “This sure is a great place for a reception,” I said, jumping into the conversational void. “Everything is arranged so tastefully.”
    Fiona smiled. “Yes, we’re booked for the entire month of June, and every weekend through Labor Day. Tim and I feel that we’ve helped contribute to Hartford House’s success. We’ve been here three years now, and Mrs. Hartford trusts us completely in handling our areas of responsibility. She almost runs it like a co-op; not financially, of course, but we’re allowed to make a lot of the decisions. It’s nice to have your opinions valued.”
    She leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial hush, “Originally, Charlie Hayes – the groom? – wanted to have the wedding on his yacht. It would’ve been a more intimate gathering, of course, but Mrs. Hartford had the ear of Tiffany’s mom and…saner heads prevailed, shall we say? Charlie loves to fish, and all Mrs. Hartford had to do was suggest that Tiffany’s wedding might turn into a fishing excursion, and Mrs. Ashford slapped that deposit in her hand!”
    The sound of a tapping glass ended our conversation. A tired looking, middle-aged man at the head table held a microphone. His coat was unbuttoned and his tie was askew.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for a toast. But before we get to that, I’d like to offer a personal testimonial about my friend, Charlie Hayes. Most of the folks here, it seems to me, are better acquainted with the lovely bride, and it would be completely understandable if some of you were wondering, ‘Who is this old geezer she just married?’”
    I wolfed down the remaining portion of the delicious cherry pie I’d been savoring. After the toast, the band would launch into the first dance. Gary and the others rose and walked toward the gazebo.
    Charlie said something to the man with the microphone who waved him off. “I don’t need any notes. I’m an old pro at this sort of thing. Hell, this is my third wedding toast just with you!” The crowd chuckled politely, but I sensed an uneasiness in their good humor.
    “Charlie and I go way back,” the man continued. “Certainly before this lovely young lady was born, for sure! Oh, I’m Gordon Haskell, by the way, Charlie’s business partner for over twenty-five years. In a way, our relationship is almost like a marriage:  two individuals united by a common goal, sharing a bond that grows deeper with each passing year, with each one trying their darndest not to get screwed!”
    Charlie’s face was redder than ever, but it was now anger that propelled the blood through his veins. He looked as if he was getting up to cut Gordon off, but Tiffany’s hand held his arm, motioning him to stay put.
    “Well, I could go on, but I won’t. A toast!” The guests rose, holding the champagne that had been served minutes ago. “To the young