CHAPTER 45 – ALLEN/CARNEGIE

Somehow, even though Thaddeus was snoring, I woke up to the click of the key in the door. My eyes went wide in the dark dampness of the poolhouse, Thaddeus curled up and semi-dressed beside me. My hands went to my chest; I was still wearing my academy t-shirt, at least. Who was barging in here at this hour of the night?

The door swung open with a bang, the lights now blindingly on. I could see the reason for Harris's candle ambiance, because the main lights were a bright flickering fluorescent monstrosity, and now Harris was wide awake next to me.

"Captain Harris! Cadet Carnegie!" a voice exclaimed.

Even though I couldn't yet see in the blinding light, I knew who was at the door. Harris knew as well; he flipped over in bed, smacking his lips together.

"Callahan?"

I'd had a bad feeling about spending Thursday night in the poolhouse. I'd since told my roommate Gertrude about Callahan's purpose for the rock tumbler, and she'd sheepishly put it away, telling me she'd be bringing it home for her kids to use instead. I could have easily stayed and slept in my now quiet dorm room; the rock tumbler had sat quiet for three days now. Even so, Thursday night was the last night of the police academy of 1995, only one day before I would be finished with all the coursework needed to be a cop, and Harris had pulled out all the stops in making it a memorable night for us both. He'd brought in a charcuterie board with every kind of Italian meat and cheese he could find, along with grapes and other finger foods. He'd even brought a little radio out to the poolhouse, and we sat and listened to mellow oldies music while eating by candlelight. It would have been fun to skinny dip in the academy pool, but it was far too chilly outside now, being as we were heading into autumn.

"I've got an appointment to get the 'Vette detailed tomorrow," Harris said with a big smile. "Gotta have it looking its best for the wedding on Saturday."

"You're really looking forward to this wedding, aren't you?" I chuckled. "I can't imagine your own wedding would make you any more excited than you are about this one."

"My own wedding?" he said, narrowing his eyes at me. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Never mind," I muttered, my face heating up. Why had I referred to his wedding in the future tense and not in the past tense? Weeks ago, he had revealed to me that he was divorced, which implied that he'd already had his own wedding.

"What about you?" he said, staring at me now. "Are you not a fan of weddings?"

"Not this one," I replied. I shrugged. "I mean, I generally try to avoid getting humiliated in public."

He rolled his eyes.

"Well, what about your own?"

I made a confused face.

"Uh, you know that I've never been married. Though, I imagine if I was, that I would be a fan of my own wedding. Why do you ask?"

Now Harris's face was getting red.

"Just trying to figure out if you're against all weddings, or just this one. That's all." He reached toward the radio, a slow song with a deep male voice, and turned up the volume.

"You ever hear this one?"

I shook my head.

"Jim Reeves," he said. "It's called Welcome to My World. Damn good song."

I listened to the soft song, shocked to hear Thaddeus now singing along with the song in a surprisingly rich voice, all the while smiling at me. Now I was gawking at him.

"Wow," I said, as the song ended. "I didn't know you could sing like that. You're full of surprises!"

He gave me a mischievous little grin in reply.

"You have no idea."

It had now been several hours since I'd gotten to hear Harris's lovely baritone singing voice, and it was now the dead of night, Harris and I utterly spent. Thank goodness for the smell of candles and food lingering in the small room, because it would have been immediately apparent what else we'd been up to shortly before falling asleep.

"Captain, we need to talk," Callahan said, crossing her arms as she now stood on the threshold, the poolhouse painfully bright. Amazingly enough, she had not chosen to wear sunglasses at night and was squinting just as Harris and I were. At least I could read her expression this way, which was both of disappointment and irritation. "Would you join me outside? Two minutes enough to get dressed?"

Harris sat up from under the blankets, shirtless but unbothered. The opening of the door had brought a chill into the room and I saw the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"It's too damn cold out there," he replied in a gravelly voice. "We can talk in here."

"Cadet Carnegie," Callahan said, now turning to me. "Would you excuse us—?"

"She stays," Harris snapped, touching my side of the blanket. "What the hell are you doing here, Callahan? What, you bring the press with you?"

"No, I did not," she said, stepping into the room. I sighed with relief as she shut the door behind her. "I spoke with Cadet Carnegie on Monday," Callahan said, taking another step into the room. "She told me that you two have been together for nearly this entire academy."

"Is that really news anymore?" he said, chuckling. "You can probably find a dozen aerial pictures of us screwing around in—"

"I don't care about whatever this is," she said, gesturing at us. "But what I do care about is the hypocrisy of it. You told Lassard about my relationships with cadets, didn't you? That's why he changed his mind on retiring."

I recalled my own suspicions about Harris between Lassard's sad announcement and decision day. I remembered that he wouldn't directly answer my questions about the same exact thing. Harris had never said that he hadn't mentioned Callahan's affairs to Lassard, even though he'd claimed to have confessed to killing Birdie. I'd defended Harris many times now to many people, attempting to convince Harris to tell the truth the first time around, which he didn't like to do. Would this be the moment of truth?

"Now, just wait a minute here," he said, frowning. I was pretty sure he was wearing boxers, but he remained beneath the covers, even though he tried to sit up straighter. "His decision to stay was about the fish, not about your guilty conscience."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Callahan snapped. "The moment Lassard made his decision, you flaunted this… relationship right in my face."

"I wasn't flaunting it," Harris retorted. "I was finally enjoying myself, for once in my life. Seems like you've been enjoying yourself for years."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" she snarled, gesturing angrily at him. "You said something to Lassard, didn't you?"

"I did," he replied, lifting his chin. Callahan's eyes went wide with rage. I froze, holding my breath. Had he lied to me? I looked over at Harris as well, waiting for this revelation.

"I told him I killed Birdie," Harris said, swallowing loudly. "On accident, of course."

Now Callahan gaped at him, completely floored by this. I let out the breath I'd been holding, the tension in my face plummeting. It was just what he'd told me, weeks ago. As much as Harris liked to lie, he wasn't the best at remembering the exact details of his lies. The fact that this story was consistent with what he'd told me further convinced me of its authenticity.

"What?!" Callahan exclaimed. "How? Why?"

Harris now looked self-conscious for the first time in this confrontation, clearly not wanting to explain the details. He looked over at me for reassurance and all I could manage to do was shrug.

"It was an accident. The damn fishbowl fell off his desk and shattered," Harris said. "The fish went without water for too long."

"But how did the bowl fall off the desk? What, did you bang on the ceiling of your office until you heard glass break?"

"Funny you should mention banging," he said humorlessly, his dark eyes darting around the room. "It was nothing like that. In fact, I was inside Lassard's office at the time."

Callahan's eyes went wide yet again.

"Ugh!" she snapped. "Let me guess—trying to find more dirt on him, I presume?" Clearly, she was referencing the recent news headline alleging that Harris had once nosed around in Commissioner Hurst's police personnel files in the middle of the night. She stepped forward, her hands in fists, as Harris visibly shrunk into the sandbag bed. "You absolute hypocrite, breaking the law to see how you can twist around the rules to—"

"I was there with Cadet Carnegie," Harris blurted, looking sheepish. "We were, uh… trying out the desk. You sayin' you never considered it?"

"Trying out?" she said, confused. Callahan looked at our two sheepish faces and she was able to figure out what that meant. "Oh, God—are you saying you two screwed on Lassard's desk, and knocked the fishbowl off it?"

"Exactly," Harris said, his eyes now downcast, hands clasped together on his lap. I nodded in reply. Callahan made a face of disgust.

"Does Lassard know that?"

"No. Just that it ended badly for the fish," Harris replied, his voice barely audible as he shook his head. He looked so vulnerable right now, so contrite under the blankets, his bare upper body flushed. "Although," he added, "I did tell Lassard about my… relationship with Cadet Carnegie after the Manson incident."

"And you never told him about my—?"

"The only cadet anyone important knows about is Cadet Stetson," Harris said, his sense of righteousness returning, "and that's because you screwed that one up, big time. What were you thinking, throwing him down on your—?"

"What about you and that supposed charley horse that compelled you to take a cadet off-campus?"

"That actually happened," I said. "I should've stretched before I did the two hundred jumping jacks he wanted. It was the worst charley horse of my life, bar none."

Now Callahan was frowning, the unbridled rage starting to finally fade.

"I was supposed to get that commandant job," she said, patting her chest, "after Lassard decided to step down. Lassard chose me."

Harris swallowed loudly, the red now creeping from his chest onto his neck.

"I know."

I turned my head to look at the side of Harris's sheepish face. Now it was my turn to be shocked. Harris's confession to Lassard about the fish wasn't so noble, after all. So he'd known that Callahan was going to get the job, and his confessing to killing the fish had apparently served as a last-ditch effort to change Lassard's mind about quitting. What was Callahan going to say now? She was clearly taken aback as well by his revelation.

"So let me see if I got this right: Lassard picked me to be the next commandant, you told him you killed his fish, you get busted for trying to screw around in a public place, he gets badly injured at a press conference you blew off, and then you get commandant?"

"Pretty sure there were some other relevant incidents in there," Harris replied, clearing his throat. "You forgot to mention my saving D squad from the homicidal Cadet Manson, my taking action when Cadet Carnegie was drowning, not to mention my sticking to my well-controlled guns regarding Tackleberry's asinine shooting, even while all you instructors tried to make my life miserable with your childish pranks."

"So you think your disparaging Tackleberry got you the position?!" she said. "Your throwing your fellow officer under the bus?"

"Yes, along with those other points. How could you forget Tackleberry's excessive force demonstration in Moscow?* He could very well have killed me. I still have a knot on my thighbone where he whacked me with that damn police baton! Protect and serve, my ass! He's a menace!"

"Funny you should bring up Moscow," Callahan remarked. "May I remind you that I risked my life to bring down Konstantine Konali. I had dinner with the man, was in his car, his home—not to mention being kidnapped by his men! I took down an entire gang of men—alone—during the Wilson Heights blackout.** Did you ever consider that I've put in the work for this position just as much as you have?"

"I am well-aware of your—"

"From what I can see," she cut in, "the only difference between you and I is that I also value integrity, not to mention fostering positive relationships with my fellow officers!"

Now Harris looked pissed off.

"Oh, is that right? And who do you think rescued you from Konali, hmm? It was me, Callahan," Harris said, his hand on his bare chest. "Not Lassard, not Tackleberry, not Jones, and not Cadet Connors. I made the plans, and I executed them. I was the brains of the operation. You're welcome, by the way."

Callahan paused at this information, blinking faster as she processed what he'd said.

"Now, I know I've had more than my fair share of screw-ups," Harris continued, "but dating Cadet Carnegie is not one of them. And neither was my telling Lassard about that damn fish."

Callahan looked less angry now; even her stance was more relaxed. Harris had more to say.

"Just be patient, Callahan," he muttered, grimacing. "Mahoney's gonna be the one to decide the next commandant, and I imagine he won't make the same mistake twice."

Now Callahan gaped at him, shocked. It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"M-mistake?" she sputtered, blinking. "Did you really just say that?"

Harris replied matter-of-factly, a scowl on his face.

"What else would you call a three-week power trip leading to the exodus of eighty-five percent of our student body? Anyway, when that day comes, I can only hope that you'll consider the good I've done and let me keep my job at the academy."

Callahan squinted now, noticeably ill-at-ease at Harris's assumption.

"You really think he'll pick me?"

"I don't see why not," Harris replied, shrugging. "I mean, aside from the Cadet Stetson incident, not to mention those ridiculously infantile pranks, you're someone I've always respected and a damn good police officer, at that."

Now Harris and I sat in the silence of the poolhouse, a tearful Callahan having since left after she and Harris had finally worked out their differences. The main piece of information I'd gleaned from all of this was that Harris had decided to tell Lassard about the fish's death, not because I wanted him to or to clear his own conscience, but because he'd known that Callahan would be getting the commandant job.

I remained in a seated position under the blanket, still bottomless, as Harris looked over at me, apparently sensing that I wasn't exactly happy with what I'd learned tonight. He spoke first, looking about as shameful as I'd ever seen him look.

"I know what you're thinking, and I—"

"I should have realized," I blurted. "I had nothing to do with your decision to tell Lassard about Birdie. You only did it to screw Callahan over."

"Well, it didn't matter anyway, did it? I'm sure Mahoney will announce Callahan as the next commandant this coming weekend; mark my words."

"I don't know; it just bothers me that you can say you respect her and that she's a good cop, but you had no problem sabotaging her chance at commandant," I said, shrugging. "I guess you don't think loyalty is a virtue."

"What are you talking about? I'm loyal to you. You're the only cadet I've ever—"

"Yeah, you'll be loyal until I do something to piss you off, or until I get in your way, you mean." I'd since crossed my arms and was feeling more and more irritated by it all. Harris looked startled by my change in demeanor.

"Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?" he sputtered. "Did we not just have a nice night? Don't let Callahan rain on our parade."

"I don't know; it just really made me think, what you told her," I said. "I thought you'd told Lassard about the fish to clear your conscience, but you really only did it to make him reconsider retiring. I mean, I'm still trying to figure out your angle regarding my sister's stupid wedding, because there has to be a reason there, one that benefits you personally."

He swallowed loudly.

"Why can't there be a reason that benefits us both?" he said.

"Like what? You mean, having my future brother-in-law arrested?" I shot back. I raised my hands. "Listen, I don't need my revenge on him being a jerk at the engagement party. In fact, I don't even care if he is some white-collar criminal; I really don't. You arresting him doesn't affect me at all."

"That's not the reason."

"Then why? I've told you that I don't want to go, that we're just gonna be tormented. What, are you planning on doing something obnoxious right back?"

"Maybe," he drawled. "All I'm gonna say is that I hope they try to torment us. Let them try."

I narrowed my eyes at him. So there was an angle here.

"You better not be planning to take any of that laundered money," I said. "I don't want it."

"Nope. I already told you; I'm staying away from the gift box."

I rolled my eyes, reaching out to check my wristwatch for the time. It was now four in the morning, far too early to have a conversation like this. Tomorrow was the last day of the academy, and then I would be a bona fide police officer.

"Let's just go to sleep," I muttered.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, and with that, he crawled out of bed to turn out the bright overhead lights and to lock the door. The room dark once again, Harris slid back under the blankets and rolled over to face me. He draped a shockingly cold arm over me, but I was still out within a minute or two.

I stood in my apartment on Saturday morning in an expensive black evening gown, Thaddeus zipping up the back. We'd returned to my place on Friday evening after the final day of the academy, my mother's answering machine message informing us that the wedding was still happening. Harris's ruby red ZR-1 Corvette had since been safely parked in his garage, glistening from its fresh detailing. He'd wisely chosen to drive to my apartment in the plain Crown Vic; I could just see it outside the window from where I was standing.

"You look incredible, Officer Carnegie," Thaddeus said, moving around to the front of me now, his eyes scanning the gown. I'd made sure to get a shower and to use a hair dryer so that my hair would lie flat and actually look okay for once. I looked into the small mirror on my wall to see my dark brown hair cascading over my shoulders, no stray hairs or flyaway pieces to be seen; not bad. The makeup I'd applied earlier was far more than I usually put on, but now I actually appeared to have eyelashes, lips, and cheekbones. I did look pretty good. "You know; it'd be real easy to yank that frock up and ravage you," Harris added, running his hand down my hip.

"Ha," I deadpanned. "Wanna do that instead? I don't know about this wedding…"

"Listen, you're beautiful. You're gonna make 'em all jealous, mark my words. All you gotta do is show up and you've got your revenge, right there."

I made a face.

"Thaddeus, it is not my intention to get revenge at my own sister's wedding. Do you think I should tone down the makeup? I don't want to stand ou—"

"Don't you dare," he cut in. "Anyway, you haven't even seen what I'm gonna wear. Ready to go over to my place?"

I sat in my overpriced gown in front of the television at Harris's house, the local news talking about the upcoming wedding of one Mr. Larry Allen, who'd only recently been indicted for the theft of his company's funds. The news special also mentioned Captain Tackleberry and his role in the fateful execution of the search warrant regarding John Tingler, the original primary suspect. What made me really roll my eyes and probably mess up my mascara was when the reporters tried to tie me into the whole mess. Of course, they had to point out that I was the sister of Larry Allen's fiancée, Angela 'Angie' Carnegie, not to mention the girlfriend of the former commandant of the police academy, who'd spoken out against and then fired Tackleberry for what he'd done. There was so much ridiculous speculation about what this all could mean. One reporter suggested that I was working in the best interests of Larry Allen to draw more attention to the officer-involved shooting than the initial crime. Another reporter wondered out loud if I might have had something to do with the theft, due to my own criminal background. Eventually I got tired of watching the bizarre report, because it made less and less sense the longer I tried to understand what they were implying.

I couldn't help but wish that Thaddeus had dressed in front of me, instead of watching the news. I would have been happy to fix his collar and make adjustments, but he'd insisted that I stay put and wait.

When Thaddeus finally emerged from his bedroom, I audibly gasped; he looked damn good and he knew it. He'd chosen a well-tailored black tuxedo, which accentuated his broad shoulders and his shapely legs. Somehow he'd managed to put a bowtie on without messing up the collar of the white shirt. His patent leather shoes were black and polished to a mirror finish, and not a strand of his incredible silver head of hair was out of place. I scanned him from head to toe, licking my lipstick-covered lips at how good he looked. My eyes stopped short of his legs. Wait—was that a sidearm on his belt?

"How do I look?" Thaddeus said, turning around, a big smile on his face. He even unbuttoned the jacket to show off a black cummerbund, which nicely accentuated his waist.

"You look amazing," I replied, my eyes locked on his excellent choice of outfit. "Is this what you were shopping for on Monday?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think I did pretty good."

"Is that a revolver under your jacket?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I have this with me? I've got a license to carry anytime."

"But what about that big practice we had, with random stuff like VHS tapes and clothes hangers?" I said, winking at him. "Are you telling me you're not going to defend yourself against the angry legions with a napkin holder?"

"I already told you; I'm not gonna screw around with all that. Today is about us."

"Might I remind you; it's their wedding," I said.

"Yeah, yeah," he answered, gesturing dismissively. "Well, I think it's high time we move it. Don't wanna be late."

The wedding was being held at the most exclusive club in town, a huge old 1800s courthouse that had been converted into an event hall. The building was a large yellow-brick square with big domed windows and ivy growing all over it, a stately portico out front. Both the wedding and the reception were to take place in the building, beginning at 12:30 pm.

We pulled up in the ZR-1 Corvette under the portico about fifteen minutes before the wedding ceremony was to begin. Several photographers with flashbulbs were standing around under the portico alongside reporters with cameramen, turning to flash pictures of Harris's flashy sportscar. Apparently, this stupid wedding was a big deal, not only because of the indictment but because of the Carnegie name. Would these reporters know who I was? They most certainly would recognize Harris. I rolled my eyes. I could now see a valet waiting behind his little podium, steadily approaching the Corvette. As the valet waved at Harris to lower his window, Harris began cursing under his breath.

"I imagine you don't want to trust your car to that guy," I said. "Maybe you can convince him to let you park your own car." In my head, I went over the mini-rundown of my family I'd provided to Harris on the way here—the fact that there were many people who might have something to say to us. I had three married siblings and one soon-to-be-married sister somewhere in this building, in addition to my parents, nieces, and nephews. Some of these relatives I hadn't seen in years; would my brief descriptions of them be enough for even me to recognize them?

"And what will you be doing in the meantime?" Harris asked, startling me from my thoughts.

"I mean, I could stay in the car with you, or wait for you right here." A flashbulb went off just outside Harris's window and I could see several reporters waiting for us to get out of the car. Harris sighed loudly, shaking his head.

"That ain't gonna work. Just look at all these damn reporters and photographers swarming the place! We need to get in there fast. Let's just let him valet the car."

I was surprised by Harris's reply, because he had certainly never minded media attention before. I couldn't help but fear the possibility that Harris would soon be doing something obnoxious, as he'd mentioned just the other day. Apparently, that moment had not yet come. Harris silently handed over his keys to the valet as I unbuckled my seat belt.

"You just stay put right there," he said to me, and quickly climbed out of the driver's side, scurrying over to the passenger's side to open up my car door. It was very chivalrous, and I could feel myself blushing as I planted a foot on the pavement, not used to wearing heels.

"Captain Harris!" several reporters yelled at once, and I could feel Harris's hand on my back, steadily pushing me towards the entrance to the building as they swarmed behind us, chasing us into the building. "Sir, is that April Carnegie with you?"

The questions were gone as soon as we entered the building, now being greeted by coat check people. I could see the greeters several steps ahead, handing out programs. An older couple I vaguely recognized were signing the guestbook. Directly in front of us I could see a large glass door leading out to a flower-filled courtyard, with rows and rows of white chairs lined up in front of a trellis. My mascara was noticeably weighing down my eyelids, my pantyhose were already riding up into my crotch, and I suddenly wished I'd brought an extra pair of shoes for the reception. Around us, various distant Carnegie relatives milled around. I looked over at Harris to see that he was quietly taking it all in, his hand clamped firmly on my arm. I wasn't sure if that was more for his protection or for my own.

"This is really something else," he said, eyes scanning the large foyer. "Very high class."

I couldn't help but recall Harris's cutting remarks as we'd headed to Angie and Larry's engagement party at the country club. Harris had not said one thing tonight that could be construed as mean, but I'd have plenty of that coming my way from other people; I was sure of that.

"Maybe we should try to get a seat, so we don't have to mingle too much," I said, watching for potential insulters like I was on a stakeout.

"Fine by me," he said. "Do you want to lead the way, or should—?"

"Excuse me," the greeter said, standing in our way in a long white gown. It was my oldest brother John's daughter, Jennifer, who looked to be about twenty years old now. I hadn't seen her in years, and she'd certainly never seen me in a getup like this. "Are you guests of the Carnegie/Allen wedding?"

"Of course," Harris replied. "Is it not obvious?" It wasn't enough to say that; I could see that she was holding a pen to the guest list, her eyes looking down at the list and back up at us. I could only stare at her in dumb silence, having recognized her instantly even though she'd changed from a girl into a woman since the last time I'd seen her. The line had started to build up behind us and I could tell, from the harsh whispers around us, that people were starting to get edgy.

"It's April," I said, clearing my throat self-consciously. "April Carnegie."

"Aunt April?" Jennifer said, making a face. She blinked at me, apparently believing that I was lying.

"What, do you want to see my driver's license?" I suggested, raising my eyebrows and chuckling humorlessly. Harris looked over at me and I could see that he wanted to speak, which would not be a good idea at this point. "I did RSVP yes, Jennifer; look at the list," I added, pointing at the paper.

Now her eyes went wide at my knowing her name. She wasn't wearing any kind of name tag, so it must have been the confirmation she needed that I was who I said I was. Jennifer looked down at the book and ran her finger to my name, putting a check there.

"Sorry about that, Aunt April," she said, handing Harris and I programs. "You just look so… different, is all."

I could feel her staring at the back of my head as Thaddeus and I continued toward the big glass double doors leading to the ceremony location. The inner courtyard was nearly full already, and Thaddeus and I slid into the second to the last row on the bride's side of the aisle, as far toward the outside as we could go. I attempted to squint toward the front and could see my sister Alice's husband, my brother John and his wife, and my brother Joe, his wife, and his two children. Apparently Alice was in the wedding party. I rolled my eyes. Predictable.

"I'll bet the flowers alone cost more than the 'Vette," Harris said, sneezing. It was a breathtaking display. Everywhere there were flowers in full bloom, the floral scent almost overpowering. The trellis at the front was covered in English ivy and morning glory. A small string quartet sat off to the side in a clearing, playing various classical pieces. It was a beautiful place for a wedding, and I was happy that I'd managed to get a seat far away from the wandering eyes of my immediate family. Maybe I could manage to get through the first half of this thing without being noticed.

"April!" a voice exclaimed, as soon as I'd finished my thoughts. "So glad you came!" I looked in the direction of the voice to see that it was my mother, her corsage wiggling on her wrist as she waved at me from the center aisle. "Jennifer told me that you were—"

Harris leaned forward to look past me, and my mother abruptly stopped talking, her smile disappearing.

"Oh," she said. "Is that… Thaddeus Harris with you?" she asked, her eyes now on him. Even under all her makeup, I could see the deep lines on her forehead, creases that always came out when she was anxious. Normally I was the cause of these lines, but now it was my boyfriend.

"Yes, I am," Harris said, giving her a respectful bow of the head. "And you are Emma Carnegie, I presume?"

"Yes, exactly…. So, um, April," she said, looking back at me now, "do you, uh, two want to sit closer to the front? I could make a space."

"No thanks," I replied, giving her a dismissive wave. "We're good back here."

Apparently, that was the correct thing to say, because now the lines in her forehead were gone. Another wave, this one far less enthusiastic, and she headed back out of the courtyard.

"That wasn't so bad," Harris said, patting my thigh. "I guess she recognized my face from the news, because I don't remember meeting her at the engagem—"

"Oh, just you wait," I said. "The ceremony should be fine. It's the reception I'm worried about."