Veil of Night by Linda Howard Page A

for the past nine or ten years, so she had seen some doozies. If Carrie was difficult by her standards, that was saying something. She gave Jaclyn a sympathetic look.
    “I will not let her say I am stupid,” Estefani said fiercely. “It is she who is stupid. A black veil with a white dress! And my work is not boring.”
    “Don’t let her upset you,” Bishop drawled, taking care to keep his voice down. “She wouldn’t know classic good taste if it bit her on the ass.” He patted her on the arm. He was tall and muscled, with bleached blond hair and an exotic black goatee, an almost exact physical opposite from the short, grandmotherly Estefani. In their business they frequently ended up working together, so they had known each other for years. There seemed to be real affection between Bishop and Estefani; she was far more likely to listen to him than she was to anything Jaclyn could say to calm her.
    Audrey Whisenant, the pastry chef, shrugged her muscled shoulders. She’d been an Olympic swimmer back in the day and still spent a lot of time in the water, but after winning a bronze medal she’d decided competition wasn’t her thing. Instead, she explored another passion of hers—baking. Her cakes were works of art, lighter and with a silkier texture than the average wedding cake. Unlike a lot of pastry chefs, she decorated her own cakes, too. “Now, if I can just get her to choose the flavors and fillings for the cakes. I have a couple of weeks’ leeway on these cakes, but I’d like to get the details nailed down because I’m going on vacation next week.”
    “Then let’s see if we can move on you for now, and give things time to calm down between—”
    Behind them, Carrie chirped a cheerful, “Bye, love you,” to her poor unsuspecting groom, the sound followed almost immediately by a thud and crash as she swiped her arm across the table, sending Estefani’s book flying, along with kabob skewers, cake samples, ribbons, brochures, a couple of ink pens, and Jaclyn’s appointment book, all of which went skidding across the floor.
    “Who do you think you are?” Carrie’s voice was low but textured with venom as she stalked toward them. Melissa, Bishop, and Audrey faded back a little, but Jaclyn held her ground, figuring it was her job to stand between them and the advancing demon. Estefani, though, narrowed her eyes and tensed her small dumpling of a body as if she was ready to put up her dukes. The mental image made Jaclyn’s mouth quirk as she struggled not to smile.
    “Audrey is going on vacation next week,” Jaclyn said, hoping to deflect Carrie’s attention. “There’s some time to spare on the cakes, but if you can—”
    The blow came out of nowhere. Carrie’s palm cracked against her left cheek, sending her stumbling back. For a moment the shock and surprise were so great that Jaclyn seemed to disconnect from reality; the next thing she knew, she was standing with her hand pressed against her burning cheek and Bishop’s muscular arms were holding her steady until she could regain her balance.
    “You’re fired!” Carrie spat at her. Her pretty face was twisted in rage, but her eyes were disturbingly cold and calm, as if two people inhabited the same body. “How dare you talk about me behind my back, undermine me with the people I choose to give my business to? From day one you’ve done everything you can to ruin my wedding, but this is the last straw. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be lucky if you can get a job planning a plumber’s wedding. No one in Buckhead will ever use you again, and you know what that means. I want my money back, too, because you certainly haven’t earned it!”
    Jaclyn’s head swam, but she stiffened her spine, forced the jelly out of her knees. Pride made her remove her hand from her face, as if the stinging had stopped. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe. Her right hand curled into a fist; she could feel the muscles in her arm