The Trouble with Tulip by Mindy Starns Clark Page A

but there wasn’t really all that much to say. Between all of them, they polished off a gallon of ice cream, and then they took one of Jo and Bradford’s engagement photos and set it on fire, watching it burn in the empty fireplace as they sang “Na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye.”
    It didn’t help.
    What did help was when they went through every single wedding present, card, and check, and organized them all for returning. Two of Jo’s friends split the load between their cars, insisting that this was one of the official duties of wedding attendants—to make sure the gifts got returned in the case of a cancellation.
    With that burden off her shoulders, Jo was determined to make the most of the next few days—the days she had already planned to be off work and out of town for her honeymoon. She didn’t expect to hear from Bradford anytime soon—and she had no intention of trying to contact him herself. So for now, her derailed love life was utterly on hold. In the meantime, Jo planned to share the facts about Edna’s death with Sally. Maybe they could put their heads together over who might have wanted Edna dead.
    Jo reached the airport a few minutes early, found a parking spot, and made her way to the central area. She sat on a bench there and watched people milling around, both those coming out of the terminal and those in line to go through security to get in to the terminal.
    She was feeling a little sorry for herself, imagining how different this morning would have been had yesterday not gone so horribly wrong. In her imagination, she could almost see Bradford’s tall, blond form as he worked his way through the line for security, and she knew she would have been right there with him—as his wife.
    Suddenly, she stood up, wondering if that
was
Bradford’s tall, blond form working his way through the line for security. She moved forward, trying to get a better look at the man she had spotted, until a uniformed officer told her she could go no further without valid identification and an airline ticket.
    She wanted to yell, to call out Bradford’s name and see if the man would turn around, but he was too far away—not to mention that she knew such an act might get her in trouble with security.
    â€œBradford!” she called halfheartedly, her hands cupped around her mouth. “Bradford!”
    The man didn’t turn, but his line did move forward, around the corner, and then he was out of her sight completely.
    â€œJo? Jo Tulip?”
    Jo spun around to see a woman in her forties, brown hair pulled back into a neat French twist, her navy suit a cut above usual travel attire.
    Sally Sugarman.
    Jo shook her hand, forced a smile, and tried not to seem as though she were dying inside. Had that been Bradford, getting on a plane?
    More importantly: Had he been alone?
    Heart pounding, Jo asked if Sally had any checked bags.
    â€œYes, two.” she replied.
    â€œDo you mind going ahead to baggage claim?” Jo asked. “I’m sorry, but there’s something I need to do. I’ll meet you down there.”
    â€œSure,” Sally said. “No problem.”
    Trying not to run, Jo made her way to the American Airlines counter, where she waited in a short line and then stepped forward when it was her turn. She explained she had a flight that morning to Bermuda that she wasn’t going to be able to take, and she wondered what could be done about a refund.
    Confirming her worst fears, the woman pulled up her reservation and stared at the computer screen with a puzzled look, typing in several different entries before finally looking up at Jo.
    â€œI’m sorry, but this reservation was exchanged.”
    â€œExchanged. For another person?”
    The woman typed a few keys and then studied her screen.
    â€œNot exactly. You were to be traveling with a Mr. Bradford Quinn?” she asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œLooks like he cashed in