Free Plainly Murder: A Penguin Special from Obsidian by Isabella Alan Page A

that.

Chapter Nine
    The boots may have been ugly, but they gave me sure feet and confidence, which was the boost I needed to make our next stop at the Dudek Bike Company. The battery of my phone was almost dead. My aunt’s house was without electricity, so there was nowhere to plug it in overnight. I had brought a car charger with me and pulled it from my oversized purse. As I plugged it in the car, I asked Aunt Eleanor, “Do you miss being English, being able to pick up the phone and call someone whenever you wanted to?”
    She smiled. “You will remember that I left English life long before cell phones were invented.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    She smiled. “I do. After all this time, I don’t miss it.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you like being constantly available every waking moment?”
    I couldn’t imagine living without my cell phone or electricity.
    My cell rang. My mother’s smiling face popped up on the screen. Okay, maybe being constantly available wasn’t always a good thing. My fingers hovered over the screen. Should I answer?
    Aunt Eleanor grinned. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
    I sighed. “Okay, but if this turns into a three hour conversation, I’m blaming you.”
    Oliver barked in the backseat, as if celebrating that he didn’t get the blame for once.
    I tapped the phone. “Hello, Mom.”
    “Hello, Mom? That’s how you are going to greet me? I receive one cryptic text message telling me that you are there and nothing else? You could be lying dead in the middle of some cow paddy for all I know.”
    Leave it to my mother to conjure such a lovely image. A smile crossed Aunt Eleanor’s face. She could hear every word my mother said.
    I blew out a breath. “Mom, I told you when I left I wouldn’t be calling or texting all that much. I have to conserve the battery on my phone. Aunt Eleanor doesn’t have electricity, remember?”
    “Don’t remind me. My sister is living out in the country all by herself, sicker than a dog, and with no phone to call for help. How is she?”
    Aunt Eleanor’s smile dropped into a scowl.
    “She’s right here with me? Would you like to talk to her?”
    Aunt Eleanor began emphatically shaking her head “no.”
    “I would, actually.”
    I told her to hold on and handed the phone to my aunt, who gave me a beady look in return. “Hello, Daphne . . .
Nee
. I’m fine . . . And Angie is here . . .
Danki
 . . .” After a short conversation, she handed the phone back to me. “She wants to talk you about the wedding.”
    “What else?” I muttered. Elopement was looking better and better.
    I gritted my teeth. “Well, Mom, I’m trying to save my battery, so I’m going to let—”
    “Don’t you dare hang up the phone before I tell you why I called. I have some news about the wedding.”
    Just what I’d feared. I shot my aunt an irritated glance. In the rearview mirror, I saw Oliver cover his eyes with his paw. I took a deep breath. “What’s that?”
    “Ice sculptures. I booked the premier ice sculptor in the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. He didn’t come cheap, either. Typically, he schedules three years in advance. I had to pay a hefty penny for him to take on our wedding only one year out.”
    Our wedding?
That pretty much summed it up. And why was there a premier ice sculptor in Texas? The vein next to my right eye began to pulsate. “Mom, I don’t want ice sculptures at my wedding. I told you that three times.”
    “Angela, I’ve seen this man’s work. It’s exquisite. I sent him the engagement photo of you and Ryan, the one that was in the paper. He’s going to recreate it out of ice. It will be life-size.”
    This is not happening. “Mom, I don’t want ice sculptures at my wedding, especially not a life-size ice sculpture of Ryan and me.” My voice raised an octave. “Call the ice sculptor and cancel. If he’s so much in demand, he can find something else to do that weekend.”
    “Angela.” Her voice