From Dead to Worse

loved Portia, and she loved him.
    I let myself shift a bit, put my weight a little more on my right leg.
    Then Father Littrell started all over again on Halleigh and Andy. I kept my smile pasted to my face (no problem there; I did it all the time at the bar) and watched Halleigh become Mrs. Andrew Bellefleur. I was lucky. Episcopalian weddings can be long, but the two couples had opted for having the shorter form of the service.
    At last the music swelled to triumphant strains, and the newlyweds exited to the house. The wedding party trailed after them in reverse order. On my way down the aisle, I felt genuinely happy and a weensy bit proud. I’d helped Halleigh in her time of need . . . and very soon I was going to get to take these shoes off.
    From his chair, Bill caught my eye and silently put his hand over his heart. It was a romantic and totally unexpected gesture, and for a moment I softened toward him. I very nearly smiled, though Selah was right there by his side. Just in time, I reminded myself that Bill was a no-good rat bastard, and I swept on my painful way. Sam was standing a couple of yards past the last row of chairs, wearing a white tux shirt like the one I’d had on and black dress pants. Relaxed and at ease, that was Sam. Even his tangled halo of strawberry blond hair somehow fit in.
    I flashed him a genuine smile, and he grinned back. He gave me a thumbs-up, and though shifter brains are hard to read, I could tell he approved of the way I looked and the way I’d conducted myself. His bright blue eyes never left me. He’s been my boss for five years, and we’ve gotten along great for the most part. He’d been pretty upset when I’d started dating a vampire, but he’d gotten over it.
    I needed to get to work, and pronto. I caught up with Dana. “When can we change?” I asked.
    “Oh, we have pictures to do yet,” Dana said cheerfully. Her husband had come up to put his arm around her. He was holding their baby, a tiny thing swaddled in sex-neutral yellow.
    “Surely I won’t be needed for those,” I said. “You-all took a lot of pictures earlier, right? Before what’s-her-name got sick.”
    “Tiffany. Yes, but there’ll be more.”
    I seriously doubted the family would want me in them, though my absence would unbalance the symmetry in the group pictures. I found Al Cumberland.
    “Yes,” he said, snapping away at the brides and grooms as they beamed at each other. “I do need some shots. You got to stay in costume.”
    “Crap,” I said, because my feet hurt.
    “Listen, Sookie, the best I can do is to shoot your group first. Andy, Halleigh! That is ... Mrs. Bellefleur! If you-all will come this way, let’s get your pictures done.”
    Portia Bellefleur Vick looked a little astonished that her group wasn’t going first, but she had way too many people to greet to really get riled. While Maria-Star snapped away at the touching scene, a distant relative wheeled old Miss Caroline up to Portia, and Portia bent to kiss her grandmother. Portia and Andy had lived with Miss Caroline for years, after their own parents had passed away. Miss Caroline’s poor health had delayed the weddings at least twice. The original plan had been for last spring, and it had been a rush job because Miss Caroline was failing. She’d had a heart attack and then recovered. After that, she’d broken her hip. I had to say, for someone who’d survived two major health disasters, Miss Caroline looked ... Well, to tell the truth, she looked just like a very old lady who’d had a heart attack and a broken hip. She was all dressed up in a beige silk suit. She even had on some makeup, and her snow-white hair was arranged à la Lauren Bacall. She’d been a beauty in her day, an autocrat her entire life, and a famous cook until the recent past.
    Caroline Bellefleur was in her seventh heaven this night. She’d married off both her grandchildren, she was getting plenty of tribute, and Belle Rive was looking spectacular, thanks to the vampire who was staring at her with an absolutely unreadable face.
    Bill Compton had discovered he was the Bellefleurs’ ancestor, and he had anonymously given Miss Caroline a whacking big bunch of money. She’d enjoyed spending it so much, and she had had no idea it had come from a vampire. She’d thought it a legacy from a distant relative. I thought it was kind of ironic that the Bellefleurs would just as soon have spit on Bill as thanked him. But he was part of the family, and