The Trouble with Tulip by Mindy Starns Clark

grandmother,” he said, realizing that maybe just the mention of her would help. “She and your grandfather gave you twice as much love as both of your parents should have, combined.”
    That seemed to help. Jo nodded, swiping at her face with her hands.
    â€œI know they’re not here for you anymore,” he continued, “but they were here when it was most important. They were here when you were growing up.”
    â€œYou’re right.”
    â€œThey helped make up for the qualities your parents lacked.”
    â€œThey did, didn’t they?”
    She cried a little bit more. Danny held her and slowly her sobs gave way to sniffles. Finally, when it was almost dark and she was silent again, he closed his eyes and prayed out loud.
    â€œFather,” he said softly, “we know that what happened today can be used by You for good. Please be with Bradford as he figures out what he wants. Be with Jo as she struggles with the ramifications of his actions. Be with me, as her friend, to show me how I can help. And keep our eyes only and completely on You.”
    He left off the “amen” in case she had anything to add. She was quiet for a moment and then she finished the prayer.
    â€œLord,” she said, her voice sounding strangely determined, “please help me to learn who murdered Edna Pratt. Amen.”

10
    J o woke up early on Sunday morning, glad to have an excuse for not going to church. There was simply no way she could face a room full of people so soon, many of whom had been there yesterday for her wedding and would still be wagging their tongues about it today. Last night she had poked around online until she found a phone number for Sally Sugarman down in Texas. Jo called and offered her condolences, and when Sally mentioned that she was flying in this morning, Jo had quickly offered to pick her up at the airport in nearby Moore City.
    Of course, Jo realized, the irony was that she was supposed to have gone to the airport in the morning anyway to begin her honeymoon flight to Bermuda.
    What a difference a day makes.
    As Jo sailed up the highway on the 40-minute drive to the airport, she thought about the brief visit she’d had with her parents the night before, when they’d stopped by her house to say goodbye on their way out of town. They had described the reception in detail and gone on and on about the food and the wedding cake and the band. But when Jo said all she really wanted to know was what had gone wrong with Bradford, her mother surprised her by saying, “Oh, your father’s already talked to him, dear. He’s all right.”
    â€œHe’s all right?” Jo had said, stunned. “He’s
all right?
”
    â€œCold feet,” her father explained dismissively. “We’re going to discuss it further at the office on Thursday.”
    â€œYou’re going to discuss it further? What does this have to do with you, Father? Why isn’t he here discussing this with me?”
    â€œJo, calm down,” her mother said.
    â€œI won’t calm down,” she said, surprising even herself. “Why are you in the middle of this?”
    Her father paced in the small living room, looking about, obviously wishing that somehow a wet bar or a liquor cart might magically appear. In times of stress he always reached out for a drink.
    â€œJo, like it or not, Bradford is my employee. He knew I would be upset with what happened, so he called to let me know that he was sorry but that he just got cold feet and he would explain further next week.”
    The conversation with her parents had degenerated from there, but the bottom line was that Bradford had thought a conversation with his boss should take priority over a conversation with the woman he had publicly humiliated by abandoning at the altar. Unbelievable.
    Once her parents were gone, the entire group of bridesmaids had shown up to offer comfort and to talk about the reception,