Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The by Krista Davis Page B

I stacked the last dish on top of the others. Bursts of laughter came from the sunroom as I trudged up the stairs to bed. Mochie scampered ahead of me, but Daisy followed slowly, every bit as tired as I was. I drifted off into the deep sleep of the exhausted, but at three thirty in the morning, I woke with a jolt when Daisy let out a little woof.

    “Shh. You don’t want to wake everyone.”

    The tip of her tail flapped against the bed. She focused on the door, listening. I did too, and heard the unmistakable creak of ancient floorboards. “It’s probably just someone using the bathroom,” I told her.

    She pricked her ears and I realized that Mochie was listening attentively, too.

    To be on the safe side, I dragged myself out of bed to check on Jen. I thought I heard a door shut but wasn’t sure. Leaving Mochie and Daisy in my bedroom, I tiptoed upstairs and opened Jen’s door a crack. I could see the covers rising and falling. I closed the door and tried the doorknob to Hannah’s room. But before I turned it, I had second thoughts. The steps I’d heard could have been Craig sneaking up to Hannah. I coaxed Daisy and Mochie back to bed and drifted off as soon as I snuggled under the blanket.

    The next morning, I woke to honeysuckle-scented air wafting through the window. The sun shone and birds twittered, and it was almost impossible to believe that anyone had killed Emily the day before. It all felt like a distant dream that would fade from memory as the day wore on.

    The door to my room creaked open, and a ten-year-old pixie bounded through and jumped on the bed. I could hear Daisy racing down the stairs.

    “Grandma says it’s time for you to get up. I don’t want to miss the tour of Old Town.”

    Jen nuzzled Mochie while I slung on a nubby chenille bathrobe, an old favorite adorned with fluffy white clouds. It fell just below my knees and looked incredibly haus frauish when I paired it with my fuzzy slippers, but I didn’t care. Only family and Craig would be at breakfast, and unless I could prevent it, he would be family soon.

    As we walked downstairs, I could hear voices in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee beckoned, and I looked forward to lounging comfortably with a steaming cup of the rich brew before wedding duties called.

    I stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen. For a second I was taken back in time. Mars sat in his old spot at our kitchen table in a bathrobe, which if memory served right, he wore over pajama pants and a bare chest. He was eating scrambled eggs with gusto, and I had a sneaking feeling Mom had made his favorite Crabby Eggs.

    “What are you doing here?” I asked.

    “Sophie!” Mom scolded. “Don’t be rude.”

    Mars swallowed and held half an English muffin in the air. “Let’s just say I prefer the company over here.”

    Mom winked at me as though she thought he meant me. I tried not to laugh. Natasha’s mother or Kevin had gotten to him. My money was on Wanda. I poured myself a mug of coffee, and Mom waved one of my many wedding lists at me.

    “We need to change the seating plan for the reception. Where do you want to put Craig’s relatives?”

    Mars grumbled, “Just don’t seat Kevin or Wanda at my table.”

    I slid in next to him and found Daisy nestled by Mars’s feet. “I suppose you’d better ask Natasha, since she changes everything I do.”

    Mars slathered another English muffin with dense Plugrá butter and wild blueberry jam and sank his teeth into it.

    I reached for an English muffin, but before I could spread it with butter, Mom, avoiding my eyes, slid the butter dish out of my reach and said, “Mars, you won’t believe how stunning Sophie looks in her maid of honor dress.”

    Two could play that game. “Mars,” I said sweetly, “would you pass the butter?”

    He moved it in my direction, happily unaware of the little guilt trip Inga Bauer had tried to inflict on her daughter.

    Mom poured herself more coffee. “Do you think Craig