Free The Wedding Caper by Janice Thompson

“I already know what I
want.”
    Her
eyebrows elevated a little at the word honey and I resisted the urge to explain
my Southern upbringing. Most of the folks in Clarksborough had long since grown accustomed to my love terms. I snuck a peek at her
nametag: Shawna. Mental note: From this point forward, call her by her name
only.
    As she
took our order, I tried to guess her age. Mid-twenties, most
likely. Perhaps she knew Nikki. Maybe they were friends. I broached the
subject with a smile.
    “Shawna,
do you know Nikki? She works here in the evenings, right?”
    “Nikki
Rogers?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know her. But we’re not exactly on
speaking terms right now.”
    “Oh?”
    A look of
aggravation took over as she explained. “She was supposed to cover my shift one
night last week and she never showed up. In fact, she hasn’t been back since.”
    I felt
that little “catch” in my chest that usually signifies one of those Am-I-having-a-panic-attack? episodes .
“What?”
    “She
quit. Just took off on us. Really put Noah in a jam.” Shawna pointed to the
cash register where the owner, Noah Linder, took care of a customer.
    “Wow.”
Then how in the world could Nikki afford the private school? What was going on
here?
    Warren
gave me one of those Annie-think-before-you-speak looks and I turned my
attentions back to the menu. “I’ll have a bowl of chicken soup to go with that
salad.”
    After
Shawna left to wait on another customer, Warren dove into a conversation about
a new security policy at the bank. I should’ve been listening. I really should
have—especially in light of my desire to see this bank riddle solved. But
for some reason, my ability to focus skipped right out the window. The only
things I heard were the scattered thoughts bouncing around in my head. And they
were tough to keep up with.
    We
finished up our lunch and Warren returned to his work at the bank. I went back
to my work, too. I felt driven to look up Guards on Call on the Internet.
Something about this whole thing just felt. . . off.
    Sure enough,
after a bit of tedious scrolling, I came upon a site that caused a tightening
grip on my chest.
    Hmm.
Looked like Guards on Call was under a little investigation for lax hiring
practices. I read the article with my jaw hanging in suspended disbelief.
Apparently several of the guards hadn’t passed the mandatory background check,
and more than a few had failed the state-mandated drug test.
    My
thoughts sailed back to Nikki’s expose. What was it she had said about not being
security guard material? Perhaps, if I’d really been listening, I would have
discerned the true meaning of her words: “He pulled a few strings.”
    On the
other hand. . .
    Could be
my listening skills had linked arms with my overactive imagination. Perhaps
Nikki simply needed help getting her foot in the door and her uncle had served
as a catalyst.
    On the
other hand. . .
    Hmm. I
rubbed at my neck to ease the sudden tension that rose up. What was it Sheila
always said at times like these? Ah yes.
    “On the
other hand. . . you have different fingers.”
    Before
frustration could set in, I shut down the Internet and sprang from my chair.
Sasha and I would go for a walk, and I’d tune my ears into something more peaceful. . . like the sound of the autumn wind whispering
through the leaves on my neighbor’s old oak tree.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    “Mom, are you
listening?”
    “Hmm?” I
looked up from the china pattern I’d been staring at for the last several
minutes into Brandi’s face. Her wrinkled brow let me know she had some concerns
about my apparent lack of interest in her bridal registration process. Probably
wouldn’t be long before she would voice them. At least, standing here in the
fine china department of Philadelphia’s largest department store, she wouldn’t
make too much of a scene. I hoped.
    “Mom, you
haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” She tapped her foot and for a