Love Can Be Murder

goods in the eyes of the families that belonged to the club, forever referred to as "the jilted one." And Dee would never let her live down this fiasco.
    "Try to swallow these aspirin," Roxann urged. "It helped me."
    "If I die," she whispered, "don't let the coroner take a picture of me like this."
    "Don't worry—I'd fix your hair first. Can you make it to the bed?"
    "Only if you bring the bed into the bathroom."
    "Come on, up you go."
    Angora groaned as she became vertical again. The bed was a mile away, but she finally reached the end of it and eased down to a sitting position. "Why do I feel like hell and you don't?"
    "Because my body is used to processing more than carrots and popcorn."
    Roxann was right, of course. Roxann was always right. Her cousin's duffel bag sat on the floor, zipped and ready to go. "Did you say you have to leave?"
    "Yes—as soon as possible. I found a pair of Dad's sweatpants for you to wear, and a flannel shirt."
    Angora peered at the darkened window. "What time is it?"
    "Four-thirty."
    "In the morning?" She hadn't been up at four-thirty in the morning since...wait—she'd never been up at four-thirty in the morning.
    "Sorry—I really need to get going."
    "Back to Biloxi?"
    "Eventually. I have a few stops to make first."
    "Take me with you."
    Roxann shook her head. "I can't."
    "Please, Roxann? I can't face everyone, not yet." And not like this.
    "I called your parents last night and told them you were all right."
    "Thanks." She bit into her bottom lip. "Were they worried?"
    "Absolutely."
    A sliver of happiness cut through the disappointment that cocooned her heart. If they were worried now, think how much more worried they'd be if she didn't come home right away. "I don't want to go home."
    "Okay, then I'll take you to a friend's."
    Her mind wasn't operating at top speed, but she had the feeling that even if she weren't hung over, she wouldn't be able to come up with a name.
    "Angora?"
    "I'm thinking."
    Roxann sighed. "How about your maid of honor?"
    "Amanda Whittaker? We're not that close."
    "Then why did you ask her to be your maid of honor?"
    "Because she asked me to be hers last year."
    "Come on, Angora—there must have been twenty girls up there with you."
    "Twenty-four. You know, I wanted to ask you to be a bridesmaid."
    "I'm...flattered."
    "Dee had a fit, though, and I was pretty sure I'd never get you in a pink dress anyway."
    "I guess you were the one who sent me the invitation?"
    She nodded. "I wasn't sure you'd get it, but I'm glad you did."
    "So am I. I think. Angora, you're not close to any of the women in your wedding party?"
    "To Trenton's three sisters, I thought. But I heard them saying nasty things about me in the bathroom at my bridal shower." She's not very bright, is she? No, and she's chunky. I don't know what Trenton sees in her.
    "What about a coworker?"
    "The only person I associate with outside of work is my boss, and that's only because he's a friend of Dee's." Her coworkers had made it clear that since she'd gotten the job because of her connections, they weren't about to include her in their art-uppity circle. They seemed to enjoy talking over her head, discussing artists and paintings that she had to look up during her lunch hour. She was sure they had come to the wedding for the shrimp cocktail.
    "There must be someone."
    "Maybe I should just go with you."
    But Roxann shook her head. "Sorry."
    She lifted her arms and allowed Roxann to pull off the hideous tie-dyed T-shirt. "I won't be any trouble."
    "Angora, you can't help but be trouble."
    "I know." She sniffled.
    "Don't start crying, your head will hurt worse."
    "It can't hurt worse," she mumbled as she shrugged into the flannel shirt Roxann held behind her. "And these thongs of yours make me feel like I had a wedding night after all."
    "You'll feel better once you can rest in your own bed in your own underwear."
    Angora relented, knowing that her cousin didn't want to be bothered with her on whatever exciting adventure she was off to next. No one wanted to be bothered with her. She choked back a sob, and tugged on gray sweatpants that swallowed her, tummy bulge and all. She looked like a bum, but her only alternative was to wear her wedding gown home, and she wasn't about to try to get back into that torture garb. "What will I do for shoes?"
    "I have an extra pair of sneakers."
    "But you wear a size six and a half, and I need at least an eight."
    Roxann frowned. "You remember my shoe size?"
    She