Chapter 9 - The Parking Lot Call
The vestry door clicked shut again and my sister Jen was already standing there with her hands out.
She hadn't been in the church when we started. She'd come in late through the side entrance with Lily's sweater folded over her arm, and now she looked at me like she understood I was about to ask her for something I hated asking for.
"Twenty minutes," I said. "That's what Reverend Thomas gave us. Can you stay with her in the nursery? Just right there. Don't let anyone else in."
Lily was still holding onto the edge of my tuxedo jacket. Her fingers had gone white.
Jen crouched down without making a big deal of it. "Hey, bug," she said softly to Lily. "Want to come see if they left any goldfish crackers in the nursery? I bet they did."
Lily looked up at me first. I nodded. "I'll be right outside. I just need to make a call where it's quiet. You stay with Aunt Jen, okay?"
She let go slowly. Jen took her hand and I watched them go the six steps down the short hall to the nursery. The door there had a small square window. Jen left it open a crack and gave me a look that meant go.
I pushed out the side door to the parking lot and the November air hit me. It was bright and cold, the kind of sun that makes the asphalt look whiter than it is. My dress shoes were loud on the sidewalk. The lot was half full, mostly my family's cars and Claire's family near the back. I could see Highway 31 past the church sign, cars going by normal as anything.
I pulled my phone out. My hands were still not steady.
I called Hank's Gas 'N Go. Hank Jr. answered. I've known Hank since high school. He ran the register after his dad retired and I'd filled up there twice a week since Lily was in a car seat.
"Hank's," he said.
"Hank, it's Mark," I said. "Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. I need to ask you something about yesterday."
"Yeah, man, congrats, right? Big day for you."
"Thanks," I said. My throat was dry. "Were you on shift yesterday around four?"
He paused. "Yeah, I was. Four till close. Why?"
"Did you see Claire there? Blonde, about this tall, wedding rehearsal was just finishing around then. She would have been in a blue jacket maybe."
The line crackled a little while he thought.
"Yeah," he said. "I did. Claire, right? Your fiancée? She came in around four, maybe a little after. Sat at that little table by the window we never use. She was with another woman."
My chest tightened. "What did the other woman look like?"
"Older lady, gray hair pulled back, had one of those little magnifying things jewelers use. A loupe? She was looking at something small on the table. I figured it was wedding stuff. They left a receipt on the table when they went. I stuck it in the drawer by the register in case someone came back for it."
The cold went through my tuxedo. A loupe. Not a cousin.
"You're sure about the time?" I asked.
"Pretty sure. News was on. Four o'clock news just started. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I said, and it sounded automatic. "Do you still have that receipt?"
"Sure do. It's in the envelope drawer. Want me to hold it?"
"Please," I said. "Don't toss it. I'll come by later."
I hadn't heard the side door open behind me. Claire stood on the sidewalk in her lace gown with her veil pushed back over her shoulders. She'd slipped her heels off and was holding them in one hand, her stocking feet on the cold concrete. Her tiara was still perfectly straight. She looked smaller out here without the altar behind her.
"Mark, don't," she said quietly.
I lowered the phone but didn't hang up.
"Don't call my cousin," she said. She took a step closer. "Please. You don't need to do that. You can just trust me."
Hank was still on the line. "Mark? You there?"
"One second, Hank," I said to the phone, then to her, "Claire, who was the woman with the loupe?"
Her eyes filled fast. She glanced toward the nursery window where I knew Lily and Jen were.
"It wasn't my cousin," she whispered. "I know that's what I said. I panicked."
"Claire," I said. The cold was making my breath visible. "Was it business?"
She nodded once, a tiny movement, and then covered her mouth with her hand the way she had in the church, as if she could hold something in.
"I was going to tell you after today," she said. Her voice broke. "I didn't want you to call anyone and make this bigger than it is. Please, just come back inside and we'll talk, just us. Don't bring other people into it."
I looked at her hand, at the empty place where the real pearl should have been, and then down at my phone where Hank was waiting with a receipt in a drawer that would have a name and a number on it.
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"I'm not trying to embarrass you," I said. "I just need to know what actually happened."
She didn't answer. She just stood there in the parking lot in her wedding dress holding her shoes, watching me hold the proof that her cousin story was gone.
