Chapter Eighteen: Momentum
"So, what are you going to wear?" Nancy asked again, peering over the top of Callie's easel. Callie blinked slowly, surfacing from her creative focus.
"You're still here?"
"We just finished up lunch. Joe went out to the garage to put in some time with his other love interest." Nancy smiled broadly. "I'll let you be, if you want. I'm sorry I interrupted."
Callie set down her paintbrush. "No, I don't mind. It's really just about finished."
"Then let's talk wedding stuff!" Nancy said. "I don't know about you, but I could use some girl time."
"Okay," Callie said, cleaning her brush. "That does sound nice."
"Do we need to go shopping?" Nancy asked. Callie shook her head.
"This is kind of silly, but I'm thinking I might wear my wedding dress," she said sheepishly.
"Why would that be silly? It's your wedding."
"I know, but it's too fancy for the courthouse. And I don't know if it will even fit anymore."
"Let's go find out."
"Right now?" Callie asked, looking looking as startled and unsure as she sounded.
"Why not?" Nancy, who had begun heading for the bedrooms, returned to Callie's side. She tipped her head and regarded her friend for a long moment before Callie squirmed and covered her face.
"Don't detect at me!" she protested, her voice muffled. "I always feel like a murder suspect when you do that."
"Guilty conscience?" Nancy teased.
"Not that guilty."
Nancy met her friend's gaze. Her voice was sure but gentle. "You don't think you deserve to wear your dress. You think your mother is right about you."
"You're right." Callie sighed. "I want to marry Frank. I'm actually really excited about this, maybe even more excited than I am for the real wedding. But I can't help thinking it's my fault we have to do this and it would be dumb to make a big deal out of it."
"Callie, this is the real wedding. The one in June is going to be a great party. But Wednesday is the day you two make your real vows. You and Frank are already soulmates, but on Wednesday you're standing up in front of witnesses to bind your family together in the eyes of the law." Nancy paused to grab a tissue for Callie, who was dabbing away tears with the hem of her t-shirt. "I think that is a big deal, and I think you deserve to wear that dress," she finished.
Callie slid off her stool. "You should have gone into politics, Nan. That was inspiring."
"I meant it," Nancy said.
"Let's go, then. Let's see if it even fits."
The gown in question was hidden away with several other wedding accoutrements at the very back of Frank's closet. Callie disappeared into the depths to extract it. Nancy, meanwhile, prowled over to the armchair in the corner and sat down to pass the time by studying the room and its furnishings. She had been in Frank's bedroom infrequently enough that being there still felt a little strange, a little intrusive. It wasn't that she was unwelcome there, she knew; but Frank was a private person who did not often invite people into his space. Nancy looked around, taking in the antique dresser and bed frame, the nightstand and its stack of nonfiction books, the gun safe and filing cabinet, and the desk with its neat array of computers and writing implements and training manuals. In one corner was a set of weights and a yoga mat. Near the closet, a neatly-folded ironing board stood ready for use. Callie's influence was apparent in the selection of artwork on the walls and the flowers growing in hand-thrown pots on the windowsill. It was a comfortable, tasteful, and very adult room-and it was familiar, in a way that it took Nancy a moment to put her finger on.
Oh, she realized. It reminds me of the Nickersons' home. I guess Frank is a lot like Ned, in some ways. Their rock-solid maturity, their serious demeanor, their athleticism, even their taste for luxury: Frank and Ned had all these things in common.
The difference is that Frank is dangerous, in a way Ned could never be, Nancy mused. Ned was brave; Nancy would give him that much credit. But he didn't have Frank's natural leadership or his trained ability to detach himself from the emotions of a situation. Nancy could not imagine Ned shooting anyone, much less shooting to kill; but she had witnessed Frank's utter lack of hesitation the first time he had been forced to kill.
Nancy shook her head, snapping herself out of her introspection. "Need help in there, Cal?"
"No, I've got it." A moment later Callie emerged from the closet, clutching a large garment bag, a shoebox, and several shopping bags. She dumped it all onto her side of the bed.
"There. Dress, undergarments, veil, shoes...it's all here."
"I can't believe Frank never peeked at that," Nancy said.
"Frank would never do that," Callie said absently, spreading out the garment bag on the bed and unzipping it. Unlike Joe's bed, with its mismatched sheets and threadbare comforter, Frank's bed was carefully made with luxurious sheets and a tasteful duvet in shades of brown and gold. Nancy made a mental note: We need new linens. Maybe we can catch a good deal on Black Friday.
"Well, I'm not sure I could have resisted the temptation, if I were in his shoes," she said aloud. She was joking, mostly, but when Callie looked up at her there was no answering merriment in her brown eyes.
"He's Frank," she said matter-of-factly, as if that explained it- and it did, really. Frank would rather die than step over any line he had drawn for himself.
"Joe wouldn't have peeked, either, you know," Callie went on, and Nancy bit back a twinge of irritation. Though she loved Callie, the other woman's possessive attitude toward the brothers could be galling. It was true that Nancy had not been with Joe half her life, as Callie had been with Frank; but she had been friends with them since childhood and she believed she knew them as well as Callie did.
"I know, Cal," she said mildly. "I was just joking."
Callie sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little intense about everything right now."
"Understandably so," Nancy said, letting go of her irritation.
Callie lifted the gown out, then, and the young women's mood lightened. She held it up, shaking out the full skirt. The dress was tea-length, with three-quarter sleeves, and consisted of a creamy white underdress with an overlay of blush-pink lace. Callie ran a finger along the lace pattern and tried to smile.
"My mom hates this dress. She was pushing me to pick a blindingly white ball gown. She kept telling me pink was inappropriate, people would talk, everyone was going to think I wasn't a virgin." She laughed, suddenly. "I guess I picked a suitable dress after all."
Nancy rolled her eyes. "Please," she said, not bothering to hide her disdain for Callie's mother's unkindness. "You're hardly a loose woman. You've only ever been with Frank, and you two might as well have been married since high school. If the color of our gown depends on the purity of our bodies I'm going to have to go down the aisle in scarlet."
"I'm not sure you should count Ned. He was away at college for most of your relationship," Callie said. She was shedding her sweatpants and her paint-dappled t-shirt, revealing a grey bra and panties set dappled with pink roses. Callie was the only girl Nancy knew who always matched her underwear, even on weekends. Nancy couldn't help sneaking a glance at Callie's abdomen, but despite Callie's recent complaints about feeling bloated there was no real change there. She returned her attention to their conversation.
"That's a good point," Nancy said. "And even when he was home, he was never really demanding."
"I don't remember you talking about this," Callie said, intrigued. She stepped into the gown and slid her arms into the lace sleeves.
"It was kind of embarrassing. I mean, when you're that young and your boyfriend isn't all over you all the time, you kind of assume you're doing something wrong." Nancy shrugged. "Plus, Bess would have made it her mission to fix it. Want me to button you up?"
"Please." Callie turned her back to Nancy and pulled her hair forward over her shoulder, out of the way of the buttons. "Did you ever figure out what was up with him? Or not up, I guess." She giggled.
"He was nervous, I think." Nancy was buttoning as she spoke, letting her fingers deftly slide the tiny buttons into place while she pondered the right words to use. She respected Ned and was trying to be diplomatic about the past. "He worried a lot about taking advantage of me and about his performance. On top of that, he's very...oh, not inhibited, exactly, but he's very careful, in bed. I don't like to be treated like antique china. I like a little roughness."
"So you never left Ned handcuffed to a bed all night?"
Nancy could see Callie's grin in the mirror in front of them. She grinned back over her friend's shoulder. "Frank told!"
"Of course! That's too funny not to tell. He was mortified, though, about seeing you."
"I wasn't exactly overjoyed about that, either. Stop fidgeting, hon."
"I'm scared it's going to be too tight," Callie said anxiously, twisting her head around to try to see the row of tiny buttons Nancy was fastening up the back of her gown.
"It's not going to be too tight," Nancy said, slipping the final button into place. "There. How does it feel?"
Callie's head swiveled the other way, toward the full-length mirror she had hung on the back of Frank's bedroom door.
"I look like a sausage in a tutu."
Nancy couldn't help laughing. "Cal, no. You don't look remotely sausage-like."
"It's much tighter than it was when I bought it." Callie anxiously smoothed the material over her midriff and turned to the side to look at her reflection from that angle.
"You look beautiful."
"You have to say that. You're my friend." She was still turning, looking over her shoulder now to catch her reflection from the back. "Be honest with me, Nan. Does it look trashy?"
"We've been friends way too long for polite lying. If I thought it looked bad I would tell you. It fits. And your mother can take her opinion and shove it, because that color is stunning on you. White would have just washed you out."
"Exactly!" Callie said, turning to look from another angle. "Thanks for the validation." She smoothed her hands over her abdomen again.
"Are you sure I don't look stuffed into this thing?"
"Cal, you're fine. I know you feel bloated, but you're not showing yet. The only real difference I see from when you bought it is a slight increase in cleavage."
Callie laughed. "That is true. Is it too much? Crap. Do I look cheap? Do I look trashy?"
"You look stunning. It's classy, unique, and just a bit sexy. Frank is going to throw you over his shoulder and take you home the minute the judge says 'Man and wife,' " Nancy teased. She looked at her robe-clad self reflected next to Callie's glamour in the full-length mirror and made a face at her reflection.
"Promise you'll help me shop for my wedding dress someday," she said suddenly. "I don't think I could pull off something quite this nontraditional, but I like your eye for detail."
"Of course I'll help you, but you could totally pull this off," Callie said, eying Nancy assessingly.
"Isn't it a little too pink for me?"
"You can wear soft pink. If it were a brighter shade it wouldn't suit you." Callie turned her buttons toward Nancy. "Get me out of this thing and you can try it on."
"I couldn't."
"I'm the bride and I say you can!" Callie declared. "Come on, Nan. You know you miss playing dress-up."
"That was more Bess's game than mine," Nancy said, starting in on the buttons. "On a more practical note, won't you be cold wearing this in November?"
"I have a little fake-fur-trimmed cloak, somewhere," Callie said. "And I'll have to add stockings and maybe gloves. I think I can make it work. What are you going to wear?"
"I'm not sure yet. I need to stop by home and browse through the fun section of my closet. I have a few fancy dresses that don't see daylight nearly enough, so I'm happy you're giving me an occasion to go all out." She patted Callie's shoulder. "There. You're free. Frank is going to hate these buttons, you know."
"It's a special occasion. He can work a little," Callie said lightly. She stepped out of the gown and laid it gently on the bed. "Your turn," she ordered, retrieving her sweats. "Wait. Tell me you're not naked under that robe."
"I'm not naked!" Nancy assured her, draping Joe's robe over the arm of the chair. She looked down, assessing her navy lace bra and purple polka-dotted panties. "I may not match, but everything's covered."
"That's a step up from this morning," Callie teased. She was back at the mirror, playing with her hair. "Up or down?"
"Up, definitely." Nancy stepped carefully into the gown, almost holding her breath. The material felt cool and silky against her skin.
"I think I'll skip the veil," Callie was saying.
A sudden knock at the door made both girls jump.
"If you're Frank, stay out!" Callie called quickly.
"It's Joe. May I come in?"
"Yes," Callie answered, just a moment before Nancy piped up with the opposite answer. "Wait!" Callie amended, but it was too late.
"Whoa," Joe said, pausing just inside the doorway. "I was not expecting that."
Nancy finished slipping her arms into the lace sleeves and pressed a hand to her sternum to hold the gown in place, feeling unwontedly bashful under his scrutiny. Joe, in contrast, had recovered his composure.
"I've had this dream before," he said mischievously. "But usually you're taking it off instead of putting it on. And usually I'm helping."
"Don't even think about it!" Callie said, stepping between them. "I do not want my wedding dress defiled by an X-rated game of dress-up."
"Damn," Joe said. "Would you be okay with an R? No? How about PG-13?"
"Joseph!"
"Relax, Cal. Keeping my hands to myself." He held them up in the air, proving his point. "Why is Nancy in the dress, anyway? Is she going to be your stunt double for the wedding?"
"Yes. Because we all know how dangerous it is to sign your name on a piece of paper," Callie said sarcastically.
Joe was staring at Nancy again. She looked back at him and shook her head slightly.
"I'm just playing dress-up, Joe."
"Do you want me to button you up?" His voice was a little low, a little rough. It gave Nancy butterflies.
She shook her head again. "No, thanks. I'm about to take it off."
"Okay."
"For the record, Nan," Callie said, "You look gorgeous, but you're right. That's not exactly your style."
"Thanks for letting me try it on," Nancy said, stepping very carefully back out of the gown. "It's exquisite. I can't wait to see you in it on Wednesday."
"I can't wait either," Callie said, zipping the beautiful garment back into its bag.
Nancy wrapped Joe's robe around herself once more and tied the belt tightly. "What tore you away from your bike, Joe?"
He handed her his cell phone. "Here, read this. You're going to love it."
"What is it?" Callie asked curiously.
"It's a message from a blocked number," Nancy said, her eyes still on the screen. "They claim to have information about the case, and they want to meet up. Joe, this is fantastic!"
"It sounds like a trap to me," Callie said. "These people already tried to kill Nancy once. Don't go!"
"I don't think it's from Allie or Diarmid. The tone is all wrong," Joe said.
Nancy nodded. "I agree. She has no reason to be coy with us, anyway."
"It still doesn't sound safe," Callie grumbled.
"Did you notice where our anon wants to meet?" Nancy said, handing Joe his phone back.
"The Moonlight Diner," he said, nodding.
"That's a strange coincidence," Nancy said.
Joe shrugged. "Small town. Not a whole lot of diner options. But hey, this could be a serious advantage."
"Nova!" Nancy said immediately.
"Nova?" Callie repeated.
"She waitresses there," Nancy explained.
"Yes. I remember that."
"She can be our inside man," Joe said. "We can ask her to keep an eye out and even let us know who's waiting for us."
Callie's expression cleared. "So even if it's a trap, you're not walking in blind."
"Exactly," Nancy said. She looked at Joe, her eyes bright with eagerness. "Are we doing this?"
"Was there ever any doubt?" He was already typing a reply message.
"And now we wait," Nancy muttered.
"No, we don't!" Joe said, laughing and holding out his phone to show her the message which had just come in. Nancy read it quickly.
"Tomorrow night," she said. "Great. What are we supposed to do until then?"
"Help me rebuild an engine?" Joe suggested.
Nancy shook her head. "Actually, I think I'll make some phone calls. I have some new questions for our former suspect pool. Unless you need me for anything, Cal? I don't want to run out on you."
Callie waved her away. "No. You've been a big help. Go do your thing; I'm going to finish up that painting for you guys."
They all walked out into the living room together. Callie headed for her easel, and Nancy dug her phone out of her purse.
"Divide and conquer?" Joe offered.
"I don't mind if you want to go back to your engine."
"No way. We're partners on this."
"Okay," Nancy said, pleased. "Let's write up a list of questions and work our way through the list."
For the rest of the afternoon the little apartment was filled with the sounds of productivity: Callie humming to herself as she put the finishing touches on her painting, Nancy's and Joe's voices rising and falling as they contacted various people involved with the case. They wandered as they talked, crossing paths now and then, swapping notepads between calls or briefly pausing to discuss an interesting detail. And finally, when all their calls had been made, they met up at Joe's desk and looked over the information they had amassed.
"Bess told me that she and Tom are planning to pose as buyers for the stolen painting," Nancy began. "Allie is selling it through a local antique store. The owner does not appear to be any relation. Bess says they will record every second of their meeting with Allie and will do their best to make her say something incriminating. Did you get in touch with Keith?"
"He made bail," Joe said, nodding. "Faith bailed him out, actually."
"She's recovered her trust in him," Nancy observed. "Do you think it's possible she knows about Diarmid? She seemed very uncomfortable talking to me today."
"For all I know, the whole damn family is in on it. Lana was weird on the phone, too. It's like they're all trying to close off from us."
Sandra Ramirez's voice echoed in Nancy's head, suddenly. "Is...is that who killed him? His own family?" Nancy frowned. "Maybe they are all in on it, somehow. Gargoylegrinning wondered the same thing when I spoke with her."
Joe groaned. "Shit, I hope not. I thought we had this thing locked down."
"We'll find out more tomorrow night. Everything is all arranged with Nova."
"As long as she's not in on it, too!" Joe said.
"That thought had crossed my mind," Nancy admitted. "I love this job, but it has made me so paranoid."
"We'll find out tomorrow," Joe echoed, setting down his pen. The detectives looked at each other for a moment, and no words were necessary. It was all there in the light in Joe's eyes, in the tilt of Nancy's chin: determination, impatience, their mutual joy in the pursuit of justice.
Callie poked her head in, then, to tell them that the painting was finished; and as they were admiring it Frank arrived home. They cooked dinner together, the four of them crowding into the small kitchen and getting in each other's way and somehow managing to produce an edible meal from the chaos. The day ended with lively conversation, lots of laughter, and an easy companionship. Nancy wasn't sure what was sweeter: the chocolate cheesecake Frank had picked up from a bakery on his way home, or the sense of belonging, of being with true family.
"Penny for your thoughts," Joe said quietly.
"I'm thinking Callie was right. I'm going to miss this," Nancy said.
"We're family, no matter where we all live," Callie said staunchly.
"I'll drink to that," Joe said, raising his beer. Frank lifted his water glass. True to his word, he refused to drink anything Callie could not partake in.
"To family," he said happily, and Callie and Nancy echoed him.
"To family."