Page 8 of The Housemaid's Wedding
“It’s a color. Sort of a mix between green and blue.”
“I thought it was a poison used to kill people.”
“That’s cyanide.”
“Same thing.” His gaze drops to the knife stillclutched in my right hand. “Do you want to put the knife away now, Millie? I think we are safe from the mouse.”
Actually, I’d like to hold on to the knife, but I can’t spend my wedding day walking around with a knife in my hand. So very reluctantly, I return to the kitchen and put it back in the block.
I’ve got Mace in my purse, after all.
6
Enzo drivesinto Manhattan so I don’t have to wade through the accumulating snow in my pumps (“Is this not what all the boots are for, Millie?”), and he manages to find a parking spot that isn’t metered. I can just imagine Enzo having to duck out during the ceremony to feed a meter every fifteen minutes, so I’m grateful for the good parking. My luck is holding out.
Enzo’s tailor friend is going to meet us in Manhattan, which is where he has his shop. I dress in a nice skirt and blouse, just in case somehow the adjustments are unsuccessful, which seems like a distinct possibility. Unfortunately, the outfit doesn’t seem like something a person would wear to get married, and it also contains no blue whatsoever. During the drive to Manhattan, I googled “does the dollar store sell dresses?” (Apparently, they do sell “clothing and apparel.”)
We locate a cafe next to where we parked. We get a table inside, near the window so I can watch the snowflakes that continue to fall, but I’m too nervous toeat, so all I get is a cup of coffee. How am I supposed to eat a muffin when I’m going to get marriedin an hour? I especially don’t understand how Enzo could get a full breakfast with an omelet and hash browns.
“If you spill any food on that shirt, I am going to kill you,” I inform him.
Enzo looks up at me and grins. He is devastatingly handsome in the (thanks to me) crisp white shirt he is wearing, as well as a black jacket and slacks. He looks so good that our waitress has been flirting with him shamelessly, even though his future wife is literally sitting across from him, drumming my fingers against the table.
“I would never,” he says. “I am careful.”
I check my watch restlessly and then shift my gaze back out the window. “Isn’t your friend supposed to be here by now? We’re never going to make it in time.”
“Relax. We have a whole hour.”
“If I don’t get the dress, I won’t have my something blueormy something new.”
“Your earrings are new,” he points out.
I’m impressed that he recognized I’ve never worn them before, but the shimmery diamond earrings hanging from my earlobes are neither blue nor new. “These areborrowed,” I explain patiently. A former client of mine lent them to me for the occasion. She tried to give them to me, but I told her that they had to be borrowed.
Enzo nods in understanding, even though I’m pretty sure he is just humoring me. “There is gift shop next door. We can buy you a blue keychain with your name on it.”
“There are no Millie keychains. Believe me—I’ve checked. I don’t have a keychain kind of name.”
“Me either,” he says. “Maybe your mother will give you something blue?”
“My mother is already giving me something old,” I say. “A necklace. Besides, it’s already going to be tense when my parents show up without me demanding blue items.”
Enzo shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth. “Do not worry. You are their daughter. They love you.”
“Uh-huh.” I take a drink of my coffee although the caffeine might be making my nerves worse. Really, I need a shot of whiskey, but I don’t think this cafe sells alcohol. “They love me so much that I haven’t seen them in fifteen years.”
“Of course they love you,” he says again, more firmly. The right side of his lips twists up. “And of course, you know they will loveme.”
Despite everything, I have to laugh. My mother, at least, will be very enamored by Enzo. I can’t wait for her to meet him. “You better charm the pants off them.”
“Always.”
I take another sip of my coffee. It took me the entire drive from the Bronx to Manhattan to stop shaking after the debacle with the coat closet. During the drive, I got another call from that 718 number, but I wisely declined this time. I’ll fill Enzo in on the details later, but not today. This day is already stressful enough without dealing with a death threat, which I still don’t think is credible. I know when a man is just trying to scare me.
I thought about blocking the number, but then Idecided it was possible the guy would be dumb enough to leave a message, and it would be something I could play for Enzo later. Or it could be useful to show it to the police if it came down to that, but I doubt it ever will.
Although I admit, I’m a little unsettled about the fact that the man knew Enzo had left the apartment. It’s the one thing that makes me concerned that these aren’t just empty threats.
