Wedding Cake and Widows: A Comedy Cozy Mystery (Mom and Christy's Cozy Mysteries Book 8) Read online

  Wedding Cake and Widows

  Christy Murphy

  Copyright © 2021 by Christy Murphy

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover designer, Priscilla Pantin

  Stay in touch with Christy!

  https://christymurphy.com/

  To My Fellow Dreamers

  With special thanks to:

  My family as always

  Briana G.

  J. Christopher Sloan

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  24. A Note from the Author (and her mom)

  Also by Christy Murphy

  1

  I dashed into the kitchen to grab my house keys hanging by the garage door. My wedding plans had hit several snags, and I had to visit a new venue today. Mom got up from her chair at the kitchen table and went to the coffeepot.

  “He’ll be here any minute,” I said, waving off the coffee.

  “Look,” Mom said, standing up on her tiptoes to grab something out of the cupboard. At 5’1” she had developed the art of the tippytoe shelf reach.

  She pulled a travel coffee mug that I’d never seen out of the cupboard. I tilted my head to get the bright sunlight streaming in through the window out of my glasses. The travel mug had the words “I gotta go” emblazoned on its side.

  I laughed. “Did the adult diaper company send those?”

  “Yeah, I think they’re very cool,” Mom said, her Filipino accent turning the “v” sound into a “b” sound so it came out more like “berry cool.”

  Mom, who got her start playing a war-torn Korean as a featured extra on a hit TV show over thirty years ago, had finally hit it big in the most unlikely way. She’d become the spokesperson for an adult diaper company.

  Her catchphrase “I gotta go” and her “poop walk” had made her a viral sensation.

  “It came with the t-shirts,” Mom said as she poured half-caf into the travel mug for me and went to the fridge for the vanilla creamer. “You can pick out your size in the garage.”

  “How many shirts did they send you?” I asked.

  “Over a hundred,” Mom said. “Plus the travel mugs, water bottles, and other stuff.”

  “So people can drink all they want and not worry about having to pee,” I said.

  “Exactly. I’m doing an event at an adult living community in Van Nuys today.”

  “Another personal appearance?” I asked.

  “They’re sending someone to pick me up in a half hour,” Mom said, motioning to the motorcycle helmet, scarf, and leather jacket on the counter.

  “No more motorcycles, Mom!”

  “I told them no more riding after you got nervous in Bakersfield,” Mom said.

  “The guy was popping a wheelie with you on the back. That’s dangerous,” I said.

  “It was fine, but since you threatened to call my union rep, they have me sit on a still motorcycle just for pictures,” Mom said.

  Mom’s adult diaper commercials featured her having to leave important family events because she needed to go to the bathroom, telling people, “I’ve gotta go.” In one she jumped out of an airplane and in another she zoomed off on a jet ski, but the most viral one featured Mom hopping on a motorcycle to rush to a port-o-potty. The last scene of each commercial was someone asking Mom if she needed to go, but thanks to her new adult diaper Mom could say, “I can stay.”

  GIFs of Mom saying “I gotta go” and hopping on a motorcycle flooded the Internet. Somehow Mom had made adult diapers hip.

  “They say they’ll send more. Maybe I’ll give some away at the book club meeting, too,” she said, handing me my new mug.

  “I’ll probably be at The Lucky Dragon early after checking out the new venue, so I’ll see you there. Remember, no more inviting people to the wedding.”

  Mom’s newfound celebrity had made her more popular than ever, and as a result of her fame, the guest list for my wedding had ballooned from 75 to 250.

  My sister and brother were already married, and Mom looked at my wedding as the “last chance” for her “dream wedding.”

  “I wish you could come,” I said. “You could help convince DC to say yes to the new place.”

  “I almost forgot. There’s a check on the counter for a deposit. Make sure they take it so you can lock the date in.”

  I nodded, but my mind had wandered to DC. My fiancé was a bit frugal, and even though Mom had agreed to pay for most of the wedding including the catering, DC was still having a hard time with the overall wedding budget.

  Would it be wrong to avoid discussing the cost of the venue in front of him? I mean, I knew hiding things from your spouse was bad, but hiding the cost of a gift was standard, right?

  My stomach churned. Hiding things from my soon-to-be husband was definitely wrong. My anxious stomach had always served as my Jiminy Cricket.

  The doorbell rang. It was probably DC. I checked my makeup and long black hair in the reflection of the toaster. No hairs sticking out. Nothing smudged. I smiled at myself. My round face had thinned out a bit over the last four months. Who knew wedding stress would be my weight loss ticket?

  I entered the living room just as Mom opened the door for DC. Dressed in his standard, not-on-duty outfit—a pair of khaki shorts and a collared shirt, both bought from a secondhand store—DC exuded rugged handsomeness.

  It amazed me how, despite cutting his own hair and spending less than five dollars for an outfit, the man made my stomach flutter.

  “Good morning, Jo,” he said to my mom. “Good morning, my soon-to-be wife.”

  Yes, my guy was corny, and I couldn’t get enough of it. He’d taken to calling me his wife at grocery stores and to his friends at work for the last year of our engagement. I told him he was confusing people, so he added the “soon-to-be.”

  “Nice belt,” Mom said to DC.

  “Thanks, I got it for free,” he replied.

  I smiled. My guy loves a deal.

  I looked closer at the buckle and noticed it had Mom’s catchphrase, “I gotta go”, on it. Wow! They’d made a belt buckle. Didn’t DC worry that people would think he was wearing an adult diaper? Although, I was carrying a diaper coffee mug, but that was funny.

  “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” Mom asked.

  “No thanks, Jo,” DC said. “I want to make sure we get there in time to look things over. Make sure that it’s the best option.”

  “Okay, but I’l
l give you the free travel mug for work,” Mom said, leaving to retrieve it.

  I held up my mug. DC looked at it.

  “I’ll take some coffee in it too, then, Jo,” he yelled to Mom in the kitchen. I knew once he heard the mug was free, he’d want one.

  “That’s pretty sharp,” he said, admiring mine. “I’ll be able to get coffee at the station and bring it with me.”

  “Keep you from using the disposable cups,” I said.

  “And this is bigger. I’ll get more coffee.”

  Ah. An extra four ounces of free coffee. That explained it.

  “Babe,” I said, “You’re going to love the place we’re seeing today. And it’s the only place I could find big enough that we can get on short notice.”

  “The Lodge is still open, and it’s—” he began.

  “Let’s not get started on that again,” I interrupted.

  Mom came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee for DC.

  “You’re going to like this place way better than the cow club,” Mom said, handing DC his coffee.

  “Jo, I really appreciate what you’re—”

  “Thanks for the coffee, Mom, but we’ve gotta go,” I said, stepping out the front door and heading off this discussion at the pass.

  “Very funny, kid,” Mom said.

  We were halfway down the front walk when I realized that I’d inadvertently paraphrased Mom’s catchphrase.

  “Don’t forget to measure the doorways to make sure the cakes can fit into the kitchen,” Mom called out to us as we got into the truck.

  “What’s the rush?” DC asked.

  “I hate to be late,” I said.

  “Relax, if this doesn’t work out, we can find another place,” he said. I knew he was still hoping we’d do a smaller wedding at that animal lodge.

  They’d told us we could have free use of their popcorn machine and barbecue grill. DC thought that was an incredible bargain.

  Listen, I love barbecue and popcorn. But I’m not going to have kernels in my cleavage and sauce stains on my dress on my wedding day. Let’s save that for the honeymoon.

  Besides, the place was way to small. There was no way Mom was going to dis-invite a hundred or so guests. Mom insisted on paying for the most of the wedding, and DC was psyched about that. But he still couldn’t stop himself from wanting the budget to be smaller.

  I wanted to tell him to hurry up and pull away, but I didn’t dare. The way to convince him was convenience and savings. The venue, a beautiful old house, was only fifteen minutes from us in Shadow Hills, and had a gorgeous backyard with a pool for the reception. I’d seen photos. Barring anything completely unexpected, the place was perfect.

  We pulled up to the front of the property. We drove through the open gates and up the long driveway toward the two-story colonial house.

  “Are we renting out the White House for goodness’ sakes?” DC asked, which I knew translated to “I’m not sure we can afford this” in DC speak.

  “We’re getting a deal, and Mom’s paying, remember?”

  “You know the guys at the Lodge said we can also use the parking lot for additional tables,” DC said.

  “That’s really generous of them,” I said to DC, holding in the urge to tell him we couldn’t have our reception in a parking lot.

  I hoped that since I wasn’t dismissing the Lodge idea again, he’d keep an open mind. “Let’s just look around and see what we like. Mom already gave me the check for the deposit.”

  DC fell silent. Not a good start.

  As we pulled up to the house, we saw Briana, my friend from the San Fernando Mystery Readers’ Group, waiting next to a man who I assumed was the owner of the house.

  “Right on time,” the man said to us as we stepped out of DC’s pickup truck. I exhaled a sigh of relief. At least we weren’t late.

  “Good to meet you,” DC said, offering his hand to shake.

  “I’m Ford,” the man said, “my dad owns the house. He couldn’t be here today, but I’m sure you’ll love the place. And it’ll be great for your guests to stay overnight.”

  DC shot me a look.

  “The place has twelve bedrooms, so our out-of-town guests have a place to stay. It saves us money on hotel rooms,” I explained. I left out the part where I hadn't reserved a block of rooms at any local hotel. In my defense, these were newly invited guests of Mom’s.

  “I didn’t think we were going to pay for any hotel rooms,” DC mumbled into my ear.

  I didn’t have an answer for that. To be honest, I hadn’t thought so either.

  “There’s a master bedroom on the first floor near the pool,” Ford said, leading us down the walkway to the stairs out front. “There’s plenty of parking on the grounds. Your mother mentioned having a lot of the guests coming up in a big vehicle from Main Street, which will save you on valets.”

  “We’re renting a van?” DC asked. I could see him adding up the cost in his mind.

  “We’re getting a deal on the trolley bus from town,” I explained. “It’ll make several trips, and this way we don’t need to have a valet.”

  “The Lodge has a parking lot,” DC muttered.

  “Not if it’s going to be filled with the extra tables,” I said back to him.

  “Ford and I were just talking about how the master bedroom would be perfect as a place for all the bridesmaids to help you get ready, and the pool house would be great for the groomsmen,” Briana said.

  DC and I followed Ford from the round, oversized driveway to the enormous steps of the colonial-style house.

  “And of course, after the wedding is over, it would make for a great honeymoon suite for the two of you after your guests have gone. Or you can use one room upstairs. You can rest up for your flight or wherever you’re going for your honeymoon,” Ford added.

  “Our flight to Hawaii doesn’t depart until two days after the wedding,” I said.

  “It’s like you thought of everything,” DC said.

  Ford opened one of the two wooden front doors. He gestured for us to enter first.

  It was beautiful. Gorgeous wood floors, and an elegant staircase leading up to the second floor.

  We’d definitely be able to fit the wedding cake through these doors, but between the stairs and the size of the living room, I wondered if there was a side entrance into the kitchen that would make things easier.

  “This is the first time we’re renting the place out for an event. Well, unless you include the time they used the house for an indie movie with Christina Ricci back in the nineties.”

  “Did you get to meet her?” DC asked.

  “She wasn’t in the scene they shot here. But I talked to a guy who did stunts on the TV show, The A-Team,” Ford replied.

  “Far out,” DC said as we stepped inside the house.

  “We could take some photos of the bridesmaids on the stairs,” I said to Briana.

  “That would look great,” she agreed.

  “Hope you don’t mind if we leave the living room furniture as it is. It’ll make the place more comfortable for your overnight guests. If you wanted the house for the entire week instead of just a few days, I could give you a discount. Dad can stay with me.”

  “Your father still lives here?” Briana asked. “All by himself?”

  “His ex-wife, Sylvia, lives next door, and he has an assistant. They both check in on him every morning. I imagine Dad’s at Sylvia’s now,” Ford said. “Or maybe at the dealership.”

  “He isn’t retired?” DC asked.

  “Dad’s seventy-six, and he owns a chain of dealerships,” Ford said. “Rhett, his assistant, helps here at the house and takes Dad to the lots. I’m not sure he does much, but he can’t stay away.”

  “It’s crazy your name’s Ford and your dad is in the car business,” DC commented.

  “No coincidence. Dad owns Cal Warrington Ford. He named me after the business,” Ford said.

  “You mean the ‘Buy from Cal, buy from Cal’ guy on those comme
rcials?” DC asked. For the first time all day, DC seemed excited about something.

  “That’s him,” Ford said.

  “Did you get to be up close to the tiger he used in those commercials?” DC asked.

  Ford motioned for DC to follow him to the fireplace. On the mantel there were pictures obviously taken over several years of Cal Warrington and family with the tiger from the car commercials.

  Ford picked up a picture of his younger self standing next to the tiger and handed it to DC. “They drugged him, which I don’t think they do these days. But I don’t think they’d let us get this close without that. The cat retired to the Wildlife Waystation a few miles from here.”

  “Wow, you’re almost close enough to pet him,” DC said, impressed. “So we’d be getting married in Cal Warrington’s house, babe.”

  “We would,” I agreed. My heart jumped. DC might actually come around.

  “That’s far out. I grew up watching those commercials.”

  “There’s a statue of the tiger by the pool, where you’d have the reception,” Ford said. “I already had the pool furniture cleared out so you can see the space clearly.”

  “Let’s go see the pool next, babe,” DC suggested as he stared at the picture of Ford and the tiger. I knew DC wished it was him. He loved animals. He kept talking about how we’d get a dog as soon as we moved into our new house.

  “Can I see the kitchen really quick first? I just want to know if there’s a side door for the caterers and to see if it’s big enough for the cake to fit through.”

  Briana held up a tape measure.

  I smiled.

  “A scout is always prepared,” she said.

  “I was a Pioneer Pal, but I really didn’t get far with it,” I said.

  Briana laughed.