"Can't remember." Her voice had taken an ornery cast. "Say, did I tell you that the kitchen staff here cooked up your Eerie Ground Liver Pie for supper at the Sunset last night? That's gotta be your best recipe yet. How'd you think of adding salted peanuts?"

I shrugged. "Creating gross food is my gift to share with the world. So you're really going through with this?" The ceremony was scheduled to begin at seven o'clock, and her friends had gone on ahead to adorn the church with votives so Mrs. Berns could have the candlelit wedding of her dreams. Outside, groups of ghouls and zombies were traveling door-to-door, filling their bags with enough candy to make stomachs hurt for months. Long live sugar-based socialism.

"I'm wearing the dress, ain't I?"

"You sure are," I said. "You look beautiful." She really did. Her hair was curled and her eyes were bright. She had lovely deep lines on her face from smiling and cracking wise.

"And I'm not getting any younger. Time to hit the road."

I helped her up and to the car and drove the short distance to Trinity Lutheran. My heart was heavy. Bernard was more of a d.i.n.k than a Mink, but she'd chosen him as the best candidate to guard her future until Conrad decided to leave her alone. I didn't think it was a good idea, but I didn't have the threat of a maximum security nursing home hanging over my head. I had to support her as a friend. She'd still find a way to be Mrs. Berns, even within the temporary confines of marriage.

Outside the church, glimmering jack-o-lanterns lit the steps all the way to the heavy wooden doors, and I smiled. Yes, she would always find a way to be Mrs. Berns. As I got out of the car to help her, I heard the organ version of "Thriller" filtering out from the closed church doors. I navigated Mrs. Berns' wedding train and crutches so she could lean on me to limp up the stairs.

Inside, the church was full, beaming faces turning to take in the blushing bride. Half the town must have been in attendance. The interior of the church was magical, with the tiny teardrops of hundreds of yellow flames glinting off of the stained gla.s.s and illuminating the gold and white ribbons twining along the edges of the pews. The heady perfume of white roses floated on the air. Bernard was nowhere in sight.

Framed by the open church doors, Mrs. Berns smacked her crutch against the floor three times, like a gavel. "I have an announcement to make!" Her voice rang out, the organ stopped, and those few who had missed her entrance turned. I wondered what was up. We hadn't discussed this.

"First things first. I need to speak to my children. All of you, front and center."

Eight people stood and walked toward their mother, who looked imposing, even on crutches. Every one of them sported the hatchet nose they must have inherited from their father. They were dressed formally.

"Conrad here wants to send me to prison camp. Who else is on board with him?"

The church crowd booed.

"Mother, this isn't the time," Conrad began.

"It's the only time I'll get all eight of you in a room together. Lord knows you don't visit on the holidays. Now, who's on Conrad's team and who's on mine?"

Seven of them gathered around her, leaving Conrad standing alone. Whispers ran along the edge of the church as people craned their necks to view the outcome.

"I'm on your team, mother." Conrad's arms hung stiffly at his side even as his voice entreated her. "That's why I'm trying to take care of you."

"Conrad Berns, you listen to me good because I'm only going to say this once. I spent the first twenty years of my life taking care of my brothers and sisters, the next thirty taking care of my ungrateful kids, and the twenty-odd after that taking care of my husband and parents. For the first time in my life, I'm taking care of myself. I plan to make some mistakes, but it's not your job to take care of me, it's mine. Comprende vu?"

He tried to stare her down, but she didn't back off. "You're not going to listen to me no matter what, are you?" he asked.

"Ah, so you're not a complete idiot."

"Fine, mother." His shoulders slumped and he looked for all the world like a sullen little boy.

"Not yet, it isn't. You're going to apologize to me in front of all these people, and you and the kids are going to all promise, out loud, that you're never going to try to get me declared legally incompetent again."

Conrad looked ready to protest, but the angry murmurings of the crowd silenced him. All eight children agreed that Mrs. Berns was capable of making her own decisions.

"Now it's fine!" She said triumphantly. "Time to party! Let's go." And she turned toward the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I finally spotted a nervous-looking Bernard off to my right. He was wearing a cheap tux over a ruffled blue dress shirt. He appeared to be trying to slink out a side door, but there was a firm hand on his arm, attached to a lean, hard body that went by the name of Johnny Leeson. Johnny's face was grim but he flashed me a quick smile that made me shiver.

I broke eye contact and whispered to Mrs. Berns. "You haven't gotten hitched yet."

"Duh. I wasn't ever going to go through with it. I just needed my kids off my back and an excuse to party. Oh, and a chance to humiliate Bernard in public. The guy's a jacka.s.s."

Tanya Ingebretson, who was sitting in the back row with her husband, gasped. "But we talked about this in great detail! This is a major step in your remodeling. The wedding will transform you."

"Same me, better dress. And your life coaching? I've gotten better advice from a Magic 8 Ball. But thanks for keeping my kids off my back long enough to get them all together."

Tanya gasped again, but Mrs. Berns' attention had already moved elsewhere. "Off to the Rusty Nail! First round's on me. I have the kids' inheritance to spend." She cackled and cleared a path with her crutches before limping out.

I raced to catch up with her, my heart light. Behind us was the sound of a couple hundred people gathering their belongings. "So you were never going to go through with it?"

"Please. Have you even looked at Bernard? He might know his way around a bedroom but he's a musty old thing, and bossy to boot. Stupid enough to think he's in charge, and that's the only good thing I can say about him."

"I'm right here," he whined, appearing at her side. "Where's my money?"

"If it was up your b.u.t.t, you'd know."

He wasn't smiling. "Five thousand dollars. That's what we agreed on."

"I was double undercover, Bernard. I lied to my kids about getting married to keep them off my back, but I had to also make you believe we were actually going through with it and that I'd pay you or you'd never have stuck around long enough to get everyone in this church. And don't think I didn't see you trying to sneak out just now when you thought this was going down."

"But we had a deal," he griped.

"I've already paid you more than you're worth, Bernard. I put up with your att.i.tude, broke my ribs and leg because of you, and I got Mira here to clear your name in a murder investigation so I didn't have to hire another patsy to play my fiance. I think you owe me money."

I stepped in. "Scram, Bernard. She knows how to use those crutches, and I've seen her drop a man twice your size. She knows where to grab."

He looked ready to put up a fight, but a couple of Battle Lake's bigger, kinder brutes materialized from the crowd, catching scent of Mrs. Berns in trouble. Bernard might be stupid, but he wasn't dumb, and he stomped off. I had a feeling we hadn't seen the last of him, but I was too ecstatic to care too much right now-Mrs. Berns wasn't getting married!

We were at my car. I eased her into the pa.s.senger seat and tucked her crutches in back, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Around us, people were talking and laughing, many of them taking advantage of the unseasonably warm fall evening to walk to the Rusty Nail. I noticed none of them had gifts. I looked to Mrs. Berns suspiciously. "Was I the only one who didn't know this was a fake wedding?"

"Maybe, if you don't count my kids and Bernard," she said. "But Lord knows you can't keep a secret, and I needed my kids to believe there was going to be a real wedding." She pinched my arm. "Looks like someone wants to talk to you."

I turned. Johnny stood at the top of the church steps, leaning against the open door. The wind ruffled his curling dirty blond hair, and he had a faint grin playing on his lips. He'd undone his tie and his crisp white dress shirt was open at the collar. I could make out a hint of his muscled chest, and his pleated slacks fit him like a hand to a glove. I wondered idly if I could get him to put on a loincloth and hold a tomahawk in an erect position.

"I've given up on men," I managed to choke out. "I'm going to be single forever."

"Get off that egg," Mrs. Berns said. "You don't have the stones for it. You know you want him."

She was right. I offered him a timid smile. His grin grew. He pushed off the door and sauntered down the steps toward me. He was s.e.xy-on-a-stick, open and loving, and I wanted those lean hips against mine until I screamed out for more.

I heard Mrs. Berns shift in the car and chuckle. "I think tonight's going to be a night to remember."

"I'm scared," I said, as Johnny neared.

She grabbed my hand and said just loud enough for me to hear, "It's tough sometimes, Mira James, but when life squeezes you, you gotta trust your own juice."

"Yeah," I said, stepping forward and into Johnny's arms. "I just might try that."

About the Author.

Jess Lourey spent her formative years in Paynesville, Minnesota, a small town not unlike the Murder-by-Month series' Battle Lake. She teaches English and sociology full time at a two-year college. When not raising her wonderful kids, teaching, or writing, you can find her gardening and navigating the niceties and meanities of small-town life. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, the Loft, and Lake Superior Writers.

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