"Now, Margaret," Dad said. "I think the sheriff can take care of him. Come and have some champagne."
Mother allowed Dad to help her up and, after they were sure I was unharmed, they waltzed off toward the refreshment tent. A few guests stayed to gawk as Jake was led away to the car by six of the deputies, or to shake my hand or pat me on the shoulder soothingly. Most of the herd wandered off behind Mother and Dad and started in on the champagne and the buffet. I shooed away the well-wishers, sat down in one of the folding chairs, and put my head in my hands.
"Here, have some champagne," Michael said, waving a glass of it under my nose. "Or I could get some water if you're feeling faint."
"I'm not feeling faint," I said, glancing up. He looked worried.
"Sorry I ran away with your rescue attempt," I said.
"Once again, you didn't need much rescuing," he said, with a grin. "I don't know why I bother with these useless acts of chivalry."
"It gave me the chance I was looking for," I said. "And now I know what was bothering me last night. Leaving Mother in the car while I went in to fetch the cake, and then seeing Dad hiding in the tool shed. It was staring us all in the face. I should have realized then how Jake got away with it. He was miles away from here when Mrs. Grover was killed--but so was she. He knew exactly how to manipulate Mother to give himself that cast-iron alibi."
"Well, he didn't get away with it, thanks to you. If you hadn't figured it out, the rest of us would still be wondering. Cheer up!"
"Yes; after all, no one will ever ask me to be their maid of honor again. After Samantha's wedding and now this, I will be considered a complete and total jinx. People will pay me to stay out of town for their weddings." I took the glass of champagne and drained it.
"Oh it's not that bad," Michael said soothingly. "I'm sure it will all blow over."
"I don't want it to blow over. I never, ever want to be involved in a wedding again."
"At least not as a maid of honor."
"Not in any capacity. Ever."
"What about your own?" he asked. "Assuming, of course, you're interested in having one?"
"I'm not. If I ever get married, I shall elope. That has now become my prime requirement in a husband. Willingness to elope."
"Sounds perfectly sensible to me," he said, surveying the chaos around us. "Which reminds me, for some strange reason, and apropos of nothing in particular except that I've been trying to drag the conversation around to the subject for what seems like half the summer, do you think there's any possibility that you might--"
"What on earth is Dad doing?" I interrupted.
"What an odd coincidence," Michael remarked. "He seems to be proposing to your mother." Dad was down on one knee at Mother's feet, and as we watched, she said something to him that provoked applause and raised glasses from the surrounding relatives.
"Hardly coincidental at all. I'm sure he's been planning this for days."
"Weeks," Michael replied. "Possibly months. I always found it slightly odd that he was going to so much trouble to make your mother's remarriage a success. Of course, you realize this probably means another wedding."
"No, I think not," I said. "All they have to do is drag the guests back in and take it from the top."
"Without a marriage license?"
"I imagine they'll manage. The man shaking Dad's hand right now is Judge Hollingworth--Mother's cousin Stanley. Dad is probably arranging some sort of special license."
"I do like your family's style," Michael remarked.
"That's because you're not related to them. You'd feel different if they were your crazy relatives."
"We'll see," he said, cryptically. The sheriff and his remaining deputies used their bullhorns to reassemble the guests. After a pause while Dad gathered an impressive new bouquet to replace the one Mother had destroyed on Jake's head, the revised wedding went forward. I made my absolutely, positively final appearance as a maid of honor.
After the ceremony, the sheriff and the deputies drove off with their prisoner, and the rest of the friends and family settled down to celebrate in earnest.
Rob, I was glad to see, had already found someone to console him for the loss of Samantha. A tall, slightly gawky young woman with bright orange hair.
"Meg, this is Red," he said, in a tone that would have been quite appropriate for presenting the Queen of England.
"How do you do," Red said, pushing her spectacles up off the end of her nose. "Nice bit of deduction, that."
"Too bad I didn't deduce it till the last minute," I said.