Chapter Twenty-Five: Preparations
Nancy woke with a jolt.
"The wedding!" she said aloud, scrambling across Joe to grab his phone. Heart racing, she squinted at the numbers on the display. What time was it? What day was it?
Behind her, Joe stirred and stretched. "What's wrong?"
"What time is the wedding? How long did we sleep?" Nancy asked.
"Let me see that." Joe took the phone and squinted at it in his turn. "Nan, it's only been a few hours," he said. "Relax. Unless you think you're going to take almost 24 hours to get ready, we have plenty of time left."
Nancy flopped back down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay. Go back to sleep."
They lay quietly for a few minutes. Finally, Nancy sighed.
"Can't sleep?" Joe asked.
"No."
"Me neither." Joe patted his stomach. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get up and order a couple of pizzas."
Nancy sat up again. She had forgotten how hungry she was. "Pizza sounds great."
Joe rolled out of bed, his usual easy grace giving way to a wince halfway through the movement. "Ow. Damn."
"Are you okay?"
"Sore," he said, stretching again. "And I've got a killer headache."
"I'm a little sore myself," Nancy admitted, rolling her shoulders. The muscles were knotted from the unnatural position she'd held them in while cutting the twine from her wrists. "Hot showers first, then pizza?"
"You might be even more brilliant than you are beautiful," Joe teased. "Go ahead. I can wait."
"Or you could join me. And I mean that in the least suggestive way possible," Nancy said, laughing. "I'm not up for anything strenuous right now."
"Trust me, we are on the same page there," Joe said agreeably. He followed her into the bathroom. "But I'll massage your shoulders if you'll do mine."
"Deal," Nancy said.
Afterwards, while she was dressing, Nancy discovered her own phone sitting atop a neatly-folded pair of jeans beside her overnight bag. She reached out, morbidly curious, and shook out their folds. There was no bloodstain.
"Somebody's been doing our laundry," she told Joe, re-folding the jeans and locating a pair of yoga pants in her newly-stocked bag. The jeans might be clean, but she still did not feel the need to put them back on. "Callie? Or Frank?"
"I don't know." Joe's head emerged from the neck of a blue henley. He, too, had reached for sweatpants instead of jeans. "Let's go find out."
An enticing aroma wafted toward them as soon as they left Joe's room.
"You're up!" Callie said happily, waving to them from her seat on the couch. "Perfect timing. Lunch is just about ready."
"It smells delicious," Nancy said. "But it's so late. I hope you weren't waiting for us."
"Would I get brownie points if I pretended I had?" Callie joked.
"No, you'd get brownie points deducted for starving your kid," Joe said.
"Relax. I've been snacking all day," Callie told him.
"She was waiting for me," Frank said, stepping out of the kitchen. "I just got home a few minutes ago. I'm surprised to see you two up so soon."
"We didn't think we got to spend enough quality time with you this morning," Joe said.
"Very funny. You can get in here and spend some quality time mashing the potatoes," Frank told him, an echo of Fenton's authoritative tone ringing in his voice. Joe went.
Nancy sat down next to Callie. "Are you my fairy godmother?" she asked.
"What?"
"My jeans."
"Oh. Yeah, that was me."
"Cal," Nancy said, touched. She remembered the last time Callie had dealt with blood- in the alley, after the attack- and how nauseated it had made her. "Thank you so much. I don't know how you did it. I was ready to throw them out."
"A good magician never reveals her secrets," Callie said dramatically, and then she laughed. "But seriously, cold water and club soda. It came right out."
Joe stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Nan, is that your phone? Something keeps beeping, and it's not the oven timer."
"Probably." She hurried back into the bedroom to retrieve it and scrolled through her new messages as she returned. One item in particular made her stop in her tracks.
"I got a text from Faith!"
"She's conscious?" Callie looked surprised.
"You know what happened?"
"Frank filled me in. Though I still do want to hear your side of things."
"Of course. Well, she's conscious enough to send a text, anyway," Nancy said. "She wants us to stop by the hospital and talk to her."
Joe had overheard. "Can we have lunch first?" he called.
"Don't worry. I had absolutely no intention of skipping another meal!" Nancy assured him.
"Another meal?" Callie echoed. "How long has it been since you ate?"
Nancy thought. "We had a light dinner yesterday," she said. "And we shared a pocketful of M&Ms this morning."
"Now I'm really glad I decided to cook!" Callie declared.
Joe stepped out of the kitchen again, bowing toward the living room with a grand, sweeping gesture. "Allons, mesdames, voulez-vous déjeuner avec nous?"
"That head injury must have been worse than you thought!" Callie said. "You're speaking in tongues!"
"Just trying to add a little class to this party," Joe told her. He took Nancy's arm and ushered her to the table. Callie, meanwhile, crossed to where Frank was standing at the stove and gave him a kiss.
"Thanks for finishing up in here," she said.
"And thanks for sending Joe in to help," he answered, with a hint of sarcasm. Callie grinned.
"Has he been speaking French the whole time?"
"No, but he's been humming the same song over and over..." Frank broke off, confused, as Nancy and Joe burst into laughter.
"Still?" Nancy demanded.
"It's burned into my brain," Joe groaned.
"There's a story here," Callie said with interest, taking her seat. Frank followed with a dish of steamed vegetables.
"If there is, it didn't show up on the official report," he said.
"It's not the kind of thing Collig is interested in," Joe told his brother.
"I'd love to hear all about your night, if you're up to telling me," Callie said, passing the potatoes to Nancy.
"Didn't you fill her in, Frank? Or did you just focus on the part where you charged in and saved the day?" Joe teased.
"That's the good part, isn't it?" Frank replied.
Callie sighed. "Nan, will you please tell me?"
"Sure," Nancy said. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and began. "After we all left the gallery yesterday afternoon, things started coming together."
Joe had stopped his banter with Frank, now. Together, he and Nancy told their story, playing up the humorous parts and glossing over the few moments of real danger more from a desire to avoid thinking about those moments than from any need to shield Callie. They both knew Callie could handle the unvarnished facts; and they would tell her, gradually, as they processed the events in their own minds. For now they both needed to keep the narrative light.
"And that's that," Nancy finished. "Frank, maybe you can fill in a blank for us: what happened with Curt?"
"He's in custody," Frank said, pouring himself a second glass of water.
"Great. So, who is this guy?" Joe asked.
"He's just some lowlife Diarmid made a deal with. He has no connection to the Connolly case."
"I'm surprised," Nancy remarked. "Everyone else I've met for the past week has been connected somehow."
"I know," Frank said. "What a family!"
"Has Diarmid confessed to assaulting Nancy?" Joe asked.
"Your boy has been singing since the moment we cuffed him," Frank said. "He's confessed to everything. He doesn't seem to understand the implications, though. He doesn't think that having done all these things makes him guilty."
"What do you mean?" Callie asked.
"He keeps saying he only did what he had to do. He insists it's Brendan's fault he had to kill him. Same for you, Nan. It was your fault he drew a knife on you." Frank shook his head. "He's not very bright, but damn, is he tenacious."
"What did George call him?" Joe said, trying to remember.
"When?" Nancy asked.
"When she was standing on him. When she gave my gun back."
"Oh! She called him a rhinoceros in human form," Nancy said, smiling at the memory.
Frank nodded appreciatively. "That's very apt."
"Wait," Nancy said suddenly. "Something's been bothering me. If the murder was not premeditated, why did he steal the bayonet?"
"He says it was an impulse," Frank said dryly. "He was angry at Brendan for not being home, wanted to punish him by stealing more of his stuff, and the bayonet 'looked cool.' "
"That sounds like Diarmid, all right," Joe muttered.
"I have to ask," Callie said. "Did Allie realize how closely she and Diarmid are related?"
"Oh, she knew," Nancy said. Both Hardys nodded.
"He didn't," Joe added. "Not that it bothers him now that he does know."
"It's just another thing that wasn't his fault," Frank added, shrugging.
The conversation swirled on, Callie and Joe vying to outdo each other with jokes about kissing cousins, but Nancy was quiet. For a fraction of a second she had seen a strange look in Frank's eyes. She was studying him, trying to determine what was on his mind, when he looked up and caught her staring.
"Let it go," he said softly.
"You miss it!" she said, her tone just as soft. The insight had just come to her: his look had been wistfulness.
Though her voice had been barely audible, Joe's head immediately swiveled toward his brother. "Frank?"
Frank sighed. "Okay, yes. I do miss working with you."
"Is this where I get to say 'I told you so?' " Joe asked innocently.
"Say it. I dare you," Frank growled.
"How much do you miss it?" Callie asked. While the brothers' tone had been teasing, hers was very serious. Frank turned to her immediately.
"Now and then. That's all," he said. "I'm not ready to turn in my badge just yet."
"But you would, if you wanted to, right?"
Frank looked puzzled. "Well, sure. If I wanted to. Why?"
Callie poked at the food on her plate with her fork, keeping her eyes lowered. "I don't want you to feel trapped in your job because of me and the baby."
"Cal, no. I love you, and I love my job. I don't regret any part of my life." He paused, pulling his thoughts together. "Working with Joe, and helping with Dad's cases, that really shaped my life, you know? I wouldn't trade all that experience, and how close Joe and I have always been, for anything. But life goes on."
"Look who's feeling sentimental," Joe said, but there was more gentleness than ribbing in his voice.
"I'm allowed to be sentimental," Frank retorted. "I'm getting married tomorrow."
Joe sobered. "Does that rule extend to brothers of people who are getting married tomorrow?"
"Absolutely."
"In that case, I'll admit that I miss working with you, too. Not that I don't think my new partner is incredible." He reached for Nancy's hand and gave it a squeeze under the table. "And I'll miss you both a lot when you move into your new place. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to hang out there and play with my nephew. But it's not going to be the same."
"Maybe it'll be better," Callie said softly.
"Absolutely, it's going to be better," Frank said, reaching for her hand. He looked at Joe again. "We're not kids anymore. We have our own lives. But we're never going to lose our bond."
Joe looked as though he were unsure whether to cry or to cheer. He reached for his drink and took a long swallow, composing himself. When he spoke again his voice was light. "You know you can jump in on any case, any time. Whenever you get the urge."
"We all saw how well that worked out today," Frank pointed out. "I got pulled in to work and left you high and dry."
"That wasn't your fault," Nancy told him.
"Hey," Joe said suddenly. "You could always do what Dad did. Be a cop for awhile, then come back to private sleuthing when you're ready. We'll always have a place for you."
"And a really good dental insurance plan?" Frank asked.
"Are you already planning for your unborn child's orthodontic needs?" Joe demanded. "I know you're responsible, but isn't that taking things a little too far?"
"I'm just saying, a good dental plan is important!" Frank shot back.
Nancy smiled over at Callie. "I'll help you clear the table. This could go on awhile."
"No, no, it's not going to go on awhile, because I'm ending it. I'll help with the dishes, and then we'd better get over to the hospital," Joe reminded Nancy.
"Getting your brain scanned?" Frank asked, distributing the leftovers into storage containers.
"Ha ha. You're so funny."
"It's a lost cause, Frank. I already bugged him about it," Callie said. "He says he's fine."
"I am fine!" Joe looked exasperated. "If I thought you guys would fuss so much I would've worn a hat over it."
"Oh!" Frank said suddenly, and vanished into his bedroom.
"Was it something I said?" Joe wondered aloud.
"Hats," Frank called, hurrying back with something orange in his hand. He handed it to Joe.
"We found this in the gallery parking lot."
"My stakeout hat!" Joe said, delighted. He pulled the startled Frank into an exuberant hug. "Thanks. I thought I'd lost it in that creep's car."
After the kitchen was back in order, Nancy traded her yoga pants for jeans and pulled her hair into a quick braid. She wandered back out into the living room while Joe got changed.
"Off to visit Faith?" Callie asked, lowering her book.
Nancy nodded. "Are you okay? Do you need me to do anything before tomorrow?"
"No, but thanks for asking." Callie sat up suddenly. "I almost forgot. Meet us for dinner tonight? I'll text you when and where."
"Are you sure, Callie? This is the last night before your wedding. Don't you want to spend it together?"
"We'd really like to spend it with family," Callie said firmly. "Think of it as a really laid-back rehearsal dinner."
"Sounds good to me," Nancy told her. "We'll be there."
-
The door to Faith's room was ajar. Nancy reached in and knocked lightly anyway, just to make their presence known, and the figure slumped in the bedside chair looked up sharply.
"Oh, it's you," he said, nervously adjusting his grip on Faith's hand. "The nurses know I'm here."
"It's okay, Keith," Nancy said softly. "We're not here for you. Faith asked us to stop by. But we can come back another time if she's asleep."
Without opening her eyes, Faith lifted her free hand- the one trailing an IV line- and beckoned to the detectives. "I'm awake," she whispered. "Come in."
Up close, Nancy could read the tell-tale signs of exhaustion, worry, and tears on Keith's face. Feeling a rush of sympathy toward the boy, she reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Everything is all right now," she told him, and then wished she had not spoken. His face scrunched as though he were going to cry again.
"How are you, Faith?" Joe asked hastily.
" 'The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated,' " Faith said weakly.
Nancy smiled. "Mark Twain," she said.
"Bingo. How are you? I heard what happened."
"Good as new," Joe told her. "We bounce back fast."
Faith studied his forehead, plainly doubtful of his claim. But she chose not to pursue the subject.
"It's all over, right?" she whispered. "Everyone's been caught?"
"It's all over," Nancy assured her. "Everyone is in custody. You're safe now."
"Both of you," Joe added, for Keith's benefit. The boy looked ashamed, to his credit. But judging by the way Faith clung to his hand, Keith had confessed his sins and been absolved.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"Thank you," Faith echoed. "Thank you so much."
Nancy leaned closer. "Before we go, I have some good news."
"I thought the arrests were the good news."
"This is better," Joe promised. "Those miniatures Brendan found really were the inheritance he'd been searching for. But it turns out that your great-grandfather actually stole them."
Faith frowned. "That's not good news."
"It gets better!" Nancy said hastily. "They belonged to the private collection of a very wealthy collector. There's been a reward offered for their return, no questions asked, for several generations." Nancy named a substantial sum. "That money is yours, Faith," she concluded.
Nancy had expected a joyful response: a smile, perhaps, and one of the girl's habitual literary quotations. Instead, Faith burst into tears.
"That will pay for the rest of my college tuition," she sobbed out.
"That's great. You won't have to work so many hours," Keith said, stroking her hand. But Faith only cried harder.
"You don't understand," she wailed. "My poor brother...all his work, all his passion, his whole life, boils down to this? Me, taking my stupid classes? The money should be his." She took the tissue Nancy handed her and dabbed helplessly at her wet face. "It's not fair. It's not fair," she repeated.
Faced with such raw anguish, Nancy did not know what to say. But beside her Joe shifted his weight a moment, as though making up his mind, and then cleared his throat.
"I read something for class a few weeks ago," he said. "I'm not sure I can remember the words. 'So the darkness shall be light, and-' "
" 'And the stillness the dancing,' " Faith finished, drawing a ragged breath. She dabbed at her eyes again. "T.S. Eliot."
"I don't get it," Keith said.
"He means to tell me that good things are coming from bad," Faith said softly. She looked up at Joe. "Thank you. It doesn't mean much to me right now, but it will in time."
Keith still looked uncertain, but he did not ask any further questions.
"I think we'd better go and let you get some rest," Nancy said gently.
Faith nodded. "Thank you," she said again.
"Be well, Faith," Nancy told her.
-
"Where to, Captain?" Joe said, taking Nancy's hand as they made their way back through the hospital corridors. Nancy made no response. After a moment, he bumped her gently with his shoulder. She jumped.
"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"
Joe repeated his question.
"I'm sorry, Joe. I was a million miles away."
"Is something bothering you? I thought it went all right."
"This part gets to me a little," Nancy admitted. "We get to walk away and go on with our lives. But Faith has to live with what happened, every day. And I know," she added quickly. "I know we have to stay objective."
"I get it, Nan. But at least we did what we could to help her come to terms with it. We caught Brendan's killer."
"I know. I just wish we could do more."
There was a brief pause. Then Joe spoke again. "Turns out Keith has a good, solid handshake. I think there's hope for that boy."
Nancy laughed. "I don't ordinarily question your judgment, but I think you're going on some pretty flimsy evidence there."
"Handshakes are pretty telling," Joe argued. "Besides, I think he's too rattled by this whole experience to step a toe over the line ever again."
"Well, I hope you're right."
They had reached Nancy's roadster at this point. She slid behind the wheel, shivering, and switched on the heat.
"The heater in the old girl works better than the one in my truck," Joe commented.
"I had Chet check the whole system a few months ago. I was not about to spend the whole winter freezing my hands to the steering wheel again," Nancy said, backing the car out of its parking space. "Where to? We have a few hours before we meet Cal and Frank for dinner."
"We could go pick up my tux from the dry cleaner at the mall," Joe suggested.
"Yes, that would be a useful thing to have on hand," Nancy said. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"
"I just found out about this wedding!" Joe pointed out. "Plus, there was that slight matter of having spent part of today tied up in a warehouse. Do you think Diarmid would have let me pop out to pick up my tux if I asked him politely?"
"I suppose I shouldn't criticize. I don't have my dress picked out yet," Nancy said, ignoring his sarcasm. "Where do you think we'll have dinner?"
"Probably that Greek place they like so much. Have I taken you there yet?"
"You tried, once, but I had to go out of town that weekend." Nancy glanced over at him. "Do you and Frank have plans afterward?"
"Plans?" Joe echoed.
"You know, plans."
"You mean a bachelor party? Nope." Joe shook his head. "He pulled me aside the other day and begged me not to. Told me to save it for the fancy wedding."
"But he'll already be married by then! What will Callie think of you throwing strippers at her husband?" Nancy joked.
"This is Frank we're talking about. Strippers were never in the cards."
"Because they make him uncomfortable?"
"No, because he makes them uncomfortable!" Joe said.
"Okay," Nancy said. "I'll bite. There's got to be a story there."
Joe blew out a breath- not frustrated, but collecting his thoughts. "Okay, yeah. So, Biff's wedding, a couple of years ago, we did the typical bachelor party thing. Drinking, strip club, the whole nine yards. Which, for the record, I'm not really into."
Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Joe."
"Nan," he said, mimicking her tone. "Do I lie to you?"
"I don't think so, but you're very good at it."
"I'm damn good at it," he agreed. "But I don't lie to Frank, and I don't lie to you. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Where was I?"
"Strippers." Nancy turned her car into the mall parking lot.
"They're impersonal," Joe said. "Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know more about the woman who's taking her clothes off for me than her first name." He said it lightly and turned toward Nancy, eying her blatantly. "Now, if you're ever in the mood to do a little dancing..."
"Funny you should mention it. Did I ever tell you that Bess and I went undercover in a strip club once?"
Joe's eyes widened. "Wow. No. You never- Nan, wow."
"I'm not saying I was any good at it," she teased.
"Were you?"
"Oh look, a good parking space," she said brightly.
"Don't you start dodging questions!" Joe protested.
Nancy put the roadster in park and tucked the keys into her purse, her eyes sparkling. "Bess made better tips," she said, taking pity on him. "But I did all right."
She was halfway out of the car before she realized that Joe had not moved. He was staring at her. Nancy ducked her head back into the car and made eye contact with him.
"Joe, you can unbuckle your seatbelt now."
"Oh." He did it automatically. He was still staring.
"You can stop imagining it," Nancy told him. "Come on. I want to hear Frank's stripper story."
That snapped him out of his daze. "Right," he said, scrambling out of the car. He reached out for Nancy's hand and twined his fingers through hers as they headed toward the mall entrance.
"What you don't know," he said, "is that strippers make Frank nervous. But because he is Frank, he refuses to admit it. And he's really good at hiding his emotions, usually. We've had plenty of training on that. But at Biff's party, he was so hammered-"
"Wait. Frank got drunk?" Nancy interrupted.
"It gets better." Joe was trying not to laugh, now. "Okay. So he's hammered. We're all hammered. You know what Biff's parties are like. Phil passed out before the strippers even got there. So anyway, they finally showed up, and as soon as the music came on Frank started giggling like a little kid. He couldn't stop. We had to lock him in the closet so they wouldn't storm out on us."
"Ow," Nancy gasped through her laughter, pressing a hand to the stitches in her side. "Joe, you're killing me!"
"So I guess this would be a bad time to do my impersonation of drunk Frank giggling in a closet?" Joe said, sending her into a fresh gale of laughter.
"Not right now!" she begged.
Grinning widely, Joe wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward a bench outside the dry cleaner. "Why don't you wait here and catch your breath while I run in and get my suit?" he suggested.
He was gone only a few minutes. Nancy had just taken a few cautious deep breaths when he was back, holding a garment bag and looking a little bewildered.
"What's wrong? Did they do something bad to your tux?" Nancy asked.
"No," Joe said absently. "Actually, they did something good to it. The other place I tried claimed it was not possible to get the stain from the MRE out."
"I'm not even going to ask why you were eating an MRE in your tuxedo."
Joe did not respond to that. "They're really getting married," he said, holding his garment bag up in front of Nancy as though she had somehow missed seeing it before.
"Oh," Nancy said, realizing the source of his bewilderment.
"This is," Joe went on, waving his hand to express the futility of language. "This is fucking crazy. My brother is getting married."
"So don't overthink it. Just celebrate with them and be happy," Nancy advised, deciding against pointing out that Joe himself had been on the brink of proposing to her.
"I am happy," Joe said.
"Are you sure? Because right now you look mildly terrified."
Joe relaxed a little. "That too," he admitted with one of his boyish grins.
"Think about it this way: what's really going to change? Frank and Callie have been joined at the hip since high school. They're already married in every way that really counts."
"But they've never gone down to the courthouse and said it in front of a judge before," Joe said. "This is bizarre. My brother, getting married. This is the guy I used to fight with over who got to have the top bunk, or who got the prize from the cereal box. This is the guy who helped me break and rebuild every bike I ever owned. I can't believe he's old enough to marry somebody." He paused and sort of laughed. "I can't believe he's old enough to be somebody's father!" he added.
Nancy was not sure what to say. Her experience growing up as an only child had not prepared her to fully comprehend the depth of Joe's emotion. The closest she could come was the way she had felt when Bess married Tom. So she settled for resting a hand on his arm, showing him that she was present and listening.
"I did not mean to unload all of that in the middle of the mall," he said after a moment.
"It's okay, Joe. I understand."
"Thanks." Joe looked at her. "What are you going to wear? Do you need to do any shopping while we're here?"
Though tempted, Nancy shook her head. "No. I have a few dresses that could work. I just need to stop by my dad's place and pick one."
"In that case, to the Batmobile!" Joe said dramatically.
-
Hannah's car was the only other vehicle parked outside the Drew home.
"Dad must be working late," Nancy remarked, pulling her roadster up alongside Hannah's station wagon. "And speaking of late, how long do we have before dinner?"
Joe re-checked the text he had received from Frank. "Almost two hours."
"Oh, good." Nancy used her key to open the front door, toed off her shoes, and headed for the stairs, calling out a greeting as she went.
"Hi, sweetie," Hannah called back, stepping out of the kitchen. "Where are you going in such a rush?"
Nancy slowed down and backtracked to give the housekeeper a big hug. "I'm sorry. I just stopped by to choose a dress for the wedding tomorrow."
"The what?" Hannah gasped.
"Frank and Callie's wedding," Nancy said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. "They're having a small, private ceremony tomorrow."
"Because of the baby," Joe added, peering down from the landing.
Hannah pressed a hand to her chest. "For a second there, Nancy..." she said, shaking her head.
"I would never do that to you," Nancy said.
"Never," Joe called down. "We don't get any cake if we elope. Where's the fun in that?"
Hannah softened. "You kids are incorrigible." She reached out and touched Nancy's face, searching for signs of new damage. "You're really all right? Both of you?"
"We're fine," Nancy said softly. "We closed our case."
"I'm proud of you, dear," Hannah said. She looked up. "You, too, young man. Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"
"Would I do that? We'll be down in a few minutes," Nancy said, continuing her course up the stairs.
Joe led the way into Nancy's bedroom. "A few minutes?" he repeated.
"Okay, so it could take awhile," Nancy said cheerfully. "Don't get too comfortable, Hardy. I may need help with zippers."
"Isn't it a little early to be getting dressed?" Joe asked. Despite Nancy's advice, he had sprawled out on the bed. He was lying with his hands behind his head, watching her as she retrieved a selection of dresses from the depths of the closet.
"I have to try them on. What color do you think will bring out the purple in my bruises?" Nancy joked, tilting her head slightly as she surveyed her choices.
"I'm no expert, but I'd avoid the green one. That's bound to bring out some nasty undertones."
"You're right." Nancy replaced the green dress in her closet and pulled out a few more options. "I have so many of my mother's and grandmother's dresses. I wish I could wear these every day. The poor things never get out."
"Do all women anthropomorphize their party clothes?" Joe asked idly. Nancy, who was pulling her shirt over her head, ignored him. She slipped into a peach-colored dress, smoothing the full skirt fastidiously.
"Zip me up, Joe?"
He did, planting a kiss at the nape of her neck for good measure. "This one is nice."
"Maybe." Nancy surveyed herself critically. "I don't think it's formal enough. Do you mind..." she said, gesturing to the zipper. "I'm sorry."
"No problem. I promise this is not the worst job I've ever been roped into," he said, watching her step out of the gown and return it to its hanger. "Can't beat the view, anyway."
"Hush," Nancy scolded affectionately.
"Knock, knock," Hannah called, pausing a moment before entering the room. "Nancy Drew, tell me you're not prancing around in your underthings with a boy in your room. Didn't I raise you better than that?"
Nancy tried to look contrite. "I'm sorry, Hannah. Please don't ground me."
"I just wanted to see which one you picked," Hannah said, watching Nancy step into another dress. "Here, I'll get the zip."
"I haven't decided yet." Nancy twirled a little and looked in the mirror. "Too red?"
"Too red," Hannah agreed. "You want something that doesn't make it look like you're trying to steal attention from the bride."
"Shoot," Joe groaned. "I guess I'd better go back to the mall and exchange my white ballgown for something more conservative."
"I think you'd better return the tiara, too," Nancy told him.
Hannah was regarding them both with amusement. "You don't have the figure for a ball gown, anyhow," she told Joe. "You should go with something a little slinkier, maybe show a little leg."
"I do have great legs," Joe agreed.
Nancy, who was reaching into the back of the closet, stifled her laugh in the lapel of a coat. She pulled a garment bag from the rack and pulled it forward.
"I think I've got it," she declared.
"Let's see it," Hannah said.
"This one belonged to my grandmother," Nancy said as she almost reverently slipped it on. The dress was a beautiful pale blue taffeta with a distinctively full 1950s skirt and a matching blue belt to cinch the waist. It was sleeveless and cut high in front, with a low back.
Nancy twirled a little. "What do you think? There are gloves to go with it, somewhere."
"I think your grandmother was a classy lady," Hannah said approvingly. "Nan, you're beautiful."
Nancy curtsied. "Thank you, ma'am." She looked at Joe. He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
"Wear that one," he managed to say. "You're stunning."
"What time is the wedding?" Hannah asked, breaking the tension.
"Two o'clock tomorrow," Joe said, his brain switching on again.
"Please pass on my congratulations," Hannah said. "Would they like a cake, do you think?"
Joe considered this. "I think I overheard Frank discussing refreshments with our mom, but I'm not sure what they decided."
"I'll give Laura a call," Hannah said, rising. "I don't want to butt in on the ceremony, but I'd be happy to send along a little something for you to eat afterward."
"That's a very kind offer," Nancy said, folding her discarded jeans.
"Where are you off to now?" Hannah asked.
"We're meeting the bride and groom for dinner, once I get all my accessories together," Nancy said, her voice muffled in the casual dress she was pulling over her head.
"Accessories?" Joe asked.
"For tomorrow. Shoes, gloves, coat, stockings, garter belt, makeup...oh, and I'd better grab my good curling iron in case we need it. Cal's takes forever to heat up." She was assembling the necessary articles as she spoke, and tossing them all onto the bed.
"Are you all getting ready together at the apartment?" Hannah asked. "That's a bit unconventional."
"Frank and I are going over to our parents' place to get ready," Joe replied.
Nancy was still making her mental list. "Oh, and makeup!" she said, darting off into the bathroom.
"I'll leave you to it," Hannah called. "I'd like to make that phone call before it slips my mind." She bustled off downstairs, and Joe resumed his place on the bed.
"I'll only be a few minutes, Joe."
"No rush," he said amiably. "Can I help with anything?"
"You can stick all of this into a bag," Nancy said, dropping her cosmetics case and curling iron on the bed next the pile of lingerie. "I need to finish getting ready for dinner." She had already combed her hair and applied lipstick. Now, as Joe began filling a tote bag with her supplies, she sat down next to him to pull on her tights and her boots.
"Do you need this?" Joe asked, his fingers hesitating on her garter belt.
"No, not with these. Thanks though." She paused, holding her second boot, and looked up at him. "Disappointed?"
"A little." He slipped it into the bag and reached for her curling iron.
"It's a purely utilitarian garment, Joseph," Nancy said in her best "lecturing professor" tone. "I fail to see why you've elevated it to a sex symbol."
Joe tossed the cosmetics case on top and closed the bag. "Imprinting," he said solemnly.
"What?" Nancy asked, jolted out of her lecturing mode.
"You know, like ducklings? Except instead of imprinting on a mother figure, I imprinted on a-"
"Okay, I get it," Nancy interrupted. "Explain."
"I was sixteen the first time I saw you wearing garters. My impressionable little brain never stood a chance." He reached over and pulled her into his lap. At close range Nancy could see truth and mischief dancing in his eyes. He was being at once playful and completely honest, vulnerable and confident. Nancy wanted to kiss him. She narrowed her eyes at him instead, feigning anger.
"And how exactly did you catch a glimpse of my underwear back then?" she demanded.
"The Zdunowski case. We were undercover as guests at their New Year's Eve party, remember, and you ended up dangling off that third-floor balcony-"
"And you took a peek up my skirt while you were rescuing me? You pig."
"I couldn't help seeing! I tried not to!" Joe groaned. "Trust me, it would have been easier for me if I never saw it."
"Yes, I'm sure it made things very hard for you," Nancy said innocently. She leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet, feeling her body respond to his touch and his words. But after a minute she pulled away, reluctant but resolved. "Joe, honey, we really have to go."
"We have time."
"Not much," Nancy pointed out.
"Enough," Joe said, kissing her.
"Joe, my lipstick..."
"To hell with the lipstick." He kissed her again. "I dreamed about you for years. But you're even sexier now than you were back then. And you're more than that. You're my friend, my partner. You're the bravest and kindest human I know." He rolled her over onto the bed, his body warm and pleasantly heavy on top of hers, his hand pushing up her skirt to caress her thigh.
"You're making it really hard for me to keep saying we should go," Nancy murmured into his ear.
Joe stopped kissing her neck long enough to answer. "We'll be quick."
"There's that legendary Hardy charm," Nancy giggled. "It's true, you know exactly what to say to a girl."
"Would you cut it out?" Joe grumbled, kissing her again. "You know I've never left you hanging. Trust me?"
"Always," Nancy said, growing serious at last.
"Then come here."
-
Frank raised an eyebrow at them as they approached the table, and Nancy blushed. Not many people had the power to make her blush anymore. Frank and Bess were probably the only ones who retained that ability. They were both extremely perceptive, in a way that made Nancy sure they could read her mind sometimes.
He's got to know why we're late, she thought. And sure enough, she saw Frank roll his eyes at his brother as they took their seats.
"We ordered drinks for you," he said dryly. "We figured you would need to rehydrate."
Nancy's cheeks burned hotter, but Joe did not look ashamed. "Thanks, man. That was very thoughtful."
"Boys, behave," Callie scolded. "Nan, it's okay. We've only been here a few minutes ourselves."
Joe reached for his menu. "What's good here?" he asked.
"The baklava!" Callie and Frank answered simultaneously. They looked at each other and started laughing at some private joke.
"My detective's instinct tells me it's going to be one of those dinners," Joe said to Nancy behind his menu. Frank reached across the table and pushed the menu down.
"Sorry. We'll keep the inside jokes to a minimum."
"You're getting married tomorrow," Nancy said. "You can laugh at all the inside jokes you want to. I think it's cute."
"Nan, please!" Joe said. "Think about how long they've been dating before you say that. You've just given them permission to air over a decade's worth of this stuff."
"It really has been that long, hasn't it," Nancy said, surprised.
"It doesn't feel that long," Callie said, smiling. Frank lifted her hand and kissed it.
"You're right. It seems like about a week ago I was asking you out for the first time."
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, sped along by good food and joyful reminiscing. Finally Joe raised his glass and looked around the table, meeting each person's gaze in turn.
"I'd like to propose a toast," he said. "To Frank and Callie, who are so in love it's ridiculous. May you still be laughing about the damn baklava in a hundred years."
"To Frank and Callie," Nancy echoed.
"To us!" Callie said happily, raising her glass.
"To us," Frank repeated tenderly. "Cheers."