Seriously? “She’s leaving on a stretcher. Is she okay?” Evelyn’s eyes are open, and the paramedics seem calm, so we’re not dealing with anything life-threatening. Right?
“Heavens, I hope so. Something to do with asthma and severe allergies.” She flaps her arms, then crosses them, and taps her lips with one finger. “Maybe she’ll be better tomorrow. Maybe she can come back. I have to go tell Bob.” She starts to trot away, then pivots back. “You cannot tell Hudson and Ava. We’ll figure it out. They don’t need to know.”
The paramedics are loading the stretcher. A few neighbors have come out to see what’s going on. I lift my palms. “Mrs. Thompson, they’re going to find out.”
“Eventually. But by then, I’ll have a plan B.” She puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “Promise me you won’t tell them.”
I hesitate, then nod. Will does too.
“Good.” She pats us each on the cheek. “Oh, what are we going to do?” She rushes away, trying to run up the hill in her ridiculous shoes.
Will’s eyebrows are so high they’re practically lost in his shaggy hair. Red and blue lights flash over his face. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. She’s a lot.”
“Hey, kid.” One of the paramedics motions us over. “Where’d that lady go?”
“I’m not sure. That way?”
“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes and slams the ambulance’s back door.
It pulls away and rounds the next corner. The lights fade into the distance. The neighbors go back into their houses.
I let out a breath and brush a strand of hair from my face. “What just happened?”
Will shifts the box he’s holding. “I’m not sure, but I feel like an accomplice to a crime.”
“Should we keep this a secret?”
“Maybe. Until tomorrow. You saw Ava tonight.”
“Okay.” I jostle my box. “Well, we can’t go back with these.”
“Right.” He moves toward the front porch.
I follow. “What are you doing?”
“Maybe they left the door unlocked.”
Sure enough, we push the door open and walk right in. It wasn’t even latched.
“Hudson told me all the rental houses for the wedding party are booked through the weekend. We can drop these boxes here. Tomorrow, when the maid of honor gets here, she can deal with what this means.”
“Good plan.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey, we agreed on something.”
No comment.
We cross the rug into the living room. Boxes are stacked on the coffee table, side chairs, and in front of the fireplace. We add ours. Several lids stand open. Golden pieces from some sort of decoration lay disassembled in a heap.
I open another box. Same thing. Oh my.
Will catches my frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I get the feeling there are a lot of things left to do.” I hover over the mess. “Everything in that box is supposed to be part of the reception centerpieces. They’re not even assembled.”
He jams his hands on his hips. “We need to pretend we didn’t see this.”
