A New Groom Sweeps Clean a Likely Story

By Mardy Wheeler

Is this a murder mystery or a love story? Perhaps both. Does it make sense or not? Is it a straight line or a wondering mishap?

Follow the adventures of Margot and Sam as they learn more about each other and learn to trust their individual and collective instincts during a tragic wedding and all that follows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524582517

Mardy Wheeler

Mardy Wheeler has already published three books; this one is certainly a change! The book is mysterious and not particularly amusing. It is the story of a very unhappy woman who finds love along the way. At the same time she is not only successful in her job but also successful in getting rid of a family who has always been a problem for her. The book may be difficult to put down, one you find yourself reading again, but also one you may hesitate to recommend to someone else.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Mardy Wheeler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/07/2017

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

745510

She lay in the pool of water, trying to keep cool and to look serene. She complimented herself; she was achieving the right effect, projecting she was comfortable. Her eyes were closed against the sun’s glare, so bright her lids seemed translucent. Behind her eyes, she could still see shadow and sense movement.

She prayed to drift off to sleep in order to pass the time. But she never felt more awake, more nervously on edge, more anxiously in wait for some sort of calamity. Useless to remind herself any previous calamities were of her own doing; she could not possibly trip over anything least of all her tongue lying quietly in the shallow end of the pool.

Her lids darkened as though a cloud had drifted over the sun. She tried to breathe evenly, to show she was asleep. She sensed someone was standing over her.

Are you asleep? Eleanor’s voice neither accused nor approved.

No, just keeping the glare out of my eyes.

You probably have enough sun for the first time out. Lying in the pool means you will be even more likely to burn.

I’ve slathered on the sun block and have only been here for about fifteen minutes. She heard her voice whine.

Well, it’s your funeral. I thought you’d want to know people have started to arrive. Perhaps you’d like to change before you greet the guests.

Well, thanks. You could have told me that in the first place. Margot opened her eyes and glared at her younger, but known to be more practical, sister. Eleanor opened her eyes in mock fear, threw her hands up in melodramatic horror, turned heel, and strode away.

Margot watched her neat and trim sister, her hair swinging like a shining fall of black satin down her tanned back, shown off beautifully by a yellow sundress. Damn it! Margot muttered as she climbed out of the pool. I’ll have to find something other than my yellow dress to wear. I know I showed Eleanor last night what I was going to wear. Typical. She used the back entrance to avoid the crowd growing in the front hall and slipped…mercifully unnoticed…up the stairs.

Once in her suite, she stood behind the drapes at her window seat and counted the cars, trying to identify the guests by their vehicles. But it had been too long since she had been in the house, either as a resident or a visitor, for her to be able to do that. About half of those invited had arrived. The rest would be coming within the next half hour. Her father was notorious about promptness, being known to embarrass late comers without mercy.

He would expect everyone on time, if not early, for the event soon to take place in the backyard, next to the tent erected for the reception. Certainly, he would expect his eldest child to be on time, rather than lurking behind the curtains in her bedroom.

Margot quickly showered, shook out her hair, thick as Eleanor’s, but no longer black and shining. Women of forty-two had to expect some graying sooner or later. As well as some spreading, she thought sourly as she discarded several outfits as either too tight, or too informal, or too formal, or too young, or too ...

Annoyed at Eleanor again, as her new yellow would have been perfect, seeming even more appropriate now she was no longer able to wear it, she finally chose a light green caftan. With gold hoop earrings and bangle bracelets, she was pleased with the overall look of festive informality. Slipping gold sandals on her feet, she went back down the backstairs and moved into the kitchen. If her father imagined she had been in the kitchen supervising Meg and the hired caterer, he would forgive her not being present to greet his wedding guests.

Nodding to the flushed housekeeper, smiling at the caterer, she quickly went through to the dining room and out onto the rear patio sloping down to the lawn and into the crowd.

Are you Eleanor? a deep voice asked.

Turning, she saw a man in his mid-forties, comfortably seated on the deacon’s bench against the house. He was in tan slacks, docksiders, and a blue polo shirt. His short, thinning hair was brushed back from his tanned forehead. His eyes crinkled engagingly as he squinted up at her.

Lord, no! she said without thinking. She’s four years younger than me, and much prettier.

I find that difficult to believe. The ‘prettier’ part, at any rate. Then you must be Margot. I’m Sam O’Claire, your stepbrother-to-be. He rose and held out his hand.

Stepbrother! Ah, I had no idea. Eleanor didn’t say anything about …. Margot couldn’t think what to say that wouldn’t sound inane.

Well, a stepbrother is hardly a skeleton in the closet, is it? I mean, you will be able to cope, won’t you? You’ll hardly be asked to babysit or anything like that. I promise I don’t make messes and usually mind my Ps and Qs." Clearly he was laughing at her.

Margot was able to laugh as well. No, of course, it’s fine. Perhaps you can tell me if I have any more siblings coming on board today.

Oh, indeed, I am the oldest of three boys. So if you are the oldest of Frank’s children, then you remain the oldest girl of this ‘Brady Bunch’ situation. So, honestly, what did you think when you heard your father was marrying my mother?

I hardly knew what to think. It seems to have happened very fast. I am not even sure how long they have known each other. I don’t know any of the details: how they met and things like that. From Eleanor’s description, your mother seems very nice. Not the least like my mother.

Your mother wasn’t nice?

No, she was wonderful. But very quiet and retiring. A real homebody. She adored my father. Perhaps your mother and my mother have that in common.

Frankly, I cannot imagine Mother adoring anybody. But of course, that remains to be seen. This last was said very quickly and almost under his breath. Margot wasn’t certain she had heard properly. Before she could ask for clarification or respond, Sam had taken her arm and was moving her toward the crowd in a proprietary way.

Their approach to the growing assemblage seemed to take a very long time, as though they were moving in slow motion. People turned as they approached. Margot fancied they seemed surprised and uncomfortable as they recognized her. Perhaps their reaction was caused by seeing Sam, or Sam and her together.

Her mother’s sister, Auntie Cross, separated herself from the other guests and moved toward them, her arms theoretically out to embrace, but looking more as though she were trying to ward off a blow. Margot! I didn’t realize you’d be here today. What a surprise! A nice surprise, to be sure. And who is this with you? She turned to Sam. I don’t believe we have met. I’m Ms. Cross, Margot’s aunt, but I’m afraid … Her voice drifted off as her eyes darted from Margot to Sam and back again.

Indeed, Ms. Cross. I’m Sam O’Claire, Fiona’s eldest son. I think that means we are to be related. What luck for me. Margot thought he sounded facetious, as though the entire idea were a tremendous joke.

Auntie Cross turned back to Margot without even acknowledging Sam’s introduction. But, Margot, when did you get ou …. here? I had no idea. It’s wonderful, and you are looking wonderful. That outfit is perfect. Once you get a little more sun nobody will know you have been …away.

Yes, Margot said quickly before Auntie could get any more flustered and blurt out anything else…anything that was nobody else’s business, least of all Sam O’Claire’s. I tried to get a bit of sun this morning, but I started too late. Eleanor came to tell me the guests were arriving a mere few minutes after I got settled in the pool. I’ve only been here since last evening. So you will have to catch me up on everything that is happening. She pulled away from Sam’s grip and took her aunt’s arm. I’m sure we will be running into each other all day. Please excuse us. And have fun. She dismissed Sam and didn’t intend to see his reaction as she pulled her aunt back toward the house.

Instead, she caught a glimpse of his expression as she left. At once she felt less annoyance at her aunt and more concern for her own well-being. Sam’s eyes narrowed. He looked as though he could strangle someone: Auntie Cross, perhaps, or Margot, or both. Though he might not be angry at any one particular person, his body shook in barely suppressed rage. Their eyes met before Margot and her aunt moved back into the dining room. Sam’s brow cleared; he shook his head as though in bewildered frustration, turned on his heel, and strode into the crowd.

Auntie Cross, Margot said as they moved away from the entrance and into the relative gloom and cool of the dining room. I haven’t seen Dad since I got home. Whom is he marrying? Eleanor told me all she knew last night, which was precious little. I must say, she seems to have managed all the arrangements beautifully. Dad must be pleased.

My dear, I know very little myself.

Well, I have to find someone who knows something before I make a mess of things. I completely stuck my foot in it last night with Eleanor. I have no idea what I am saying anymore, I am afraid, and usually just blurt out what is on my mind. For example, I had no idea Dad’s fiancee had children. Actually, I had no idea he had a fiancee until I got home. She stopped abruptly, fearing she was babbling and trying to remember Auntie Cross, who had been her mother’s favorite sister, might not be very pleased with the developments herself.

But then, Margot dear, why did you come home if not for the wedding?

Auntie darling, it doesn’t take forever. One doesn’t shut oneself away forever. I am better. I am not cured, but I am better. I just must try to take care of myself and remember to take medication only under doctor’s orders. I have some very good doctors and I am very pleased to be…as you almost said…‘out.’ And by the way, I must ask you simply to explain, should explanations be required, I have been away, and you don’t know where.

"But why…?

I came home because Eleanor dropped by and asked me to do so. That was unusual for her, as you probably know. So I agreed to stop by on my way back to Waterville. It was only after I got here, as I said, Eleanor bothered to tell me why it was especially important I be here today.

To Margot’s discomfort but not surprise, Auntie Cross looked at her with a pained expression and fainted to the floor. Margot was able to catch her and ease her down before she hit her head on one of the chairs. Moving to the kitchen door, she called for Meg, the housekeeper and the one who had taken care of all childhood scrapes and bruises. Once Meg was on the scene, Margot walked to the door, hoping to find a doctor. Surely Dad must know several who had been invited.

She found Eleanor approaching the patio doors. Eleanor, you know the guest list. Is there a doctor in the house? Horribly, she felt a giggle before she heard it bubble out. Sorry, we really need a doctor. It seems Auntie Cross has just passed out in the dining room. Still another giggle.

Dr. Frost. I think he is by the punch bowl, unfortunately. I’ll get him. You stay here. Eleanor continued to order her around, just like the old days. Margot slumped into the deacon’s bench. Auntie Cross had entertained at family gatherings for years by fainting for any reason, or for no reason at all. It would have been amazing had Auntie NOT fainted sometime during the wedding; best she get it out of the way before the ceremony.

Eleanor returned quickly, bringing the overweight and flushed Dr. Frost with her. Without stopping or even acknowledging her