Love Can Be Murder

"Everything seemed much simpler when we made these lists."
    "Everything was much simpler."
    "Have you ever wished you could turn back time?" she whispered through a haze of tears.
    Roxann averted her eyes. "There are some things I would do differently, sure."
    Angora looked toward the house. Even from this distance, she could see that Dee was tapping her foot. "Will you come in with me, Roxann?"
    "I don't think—"
    "Just for a few minutes. She won't go completely berserk if you're with me. Please?" She wasn't above giving her cousin the pitiful look that had won her over in the past.
    Roxann sighed. "Just for a few minutes."
    "I owe you one." At her cousin's pensive expression, she wondered if Roxann was remembering another pact they'd made. They owed each other.
    After a deep breath, Angora gathered her soiled gown and slid down from the vinyl seat. She felt ridiculous wearing men's sweatpants and high heels, but she forged ahead, up the elaborate stone sidewalk, toward her fuming mother. As always, some small part of her still harbored the hope that Dee would throw her arms wide and offer her comfort. But when Angora was within arm's reach, her mother spun on her feathered mules and marched into the house. Angora had no choice but to follow. Roxann was a few steps behind.
    Dee glided into the parlor, then turned for dramatic effect, fabric fluttering. "Well?"
    "Well, what?" Angora asked.
    "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"
    "Um...I'm sorry for being jilted at the altar?"
    "Don't be smart, young lady. You left me and your father in an extremely awkward situation, running off like that with—" She glared at Roxann. "With her. Really. And Roxann, what a waste of your good education you've turned out to be."
    Roxann said nothing, only blinked lazily and offered up a small smile.
    The disappointment in Dee's eyes when she looked at Roxann—it was so intense, like the disappointment of a mother looking at a disobedient but favorite child. Angora had always suspected that deep down Dee had wished she'd given birth to Roxann, the smart one, and, in truth, the one with more natural beauty. The fact that Roxann chose not to enhance her looks had been a curious obsession of Dee's.
    "I am sorry for leaving so abruptly, Mother," Angora murmured. "I just wanted to get out of there."
    Dee's eyes cut back to her. "And let someone else clean up your mess."
    "Trenton was the one who changed his mind."
    "The boy had cold feet, that's all. If your cousin hadn't interfered, and if you'd behaved as if you had good sense, all of this could have been settled yesterday, and you'd be on your honeymoon instead of standing here dressed like a refugee and smelling like throw-up."
    "It wasn't her fault," Roxann said. "Lay off."
    They both turned. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed.
    "You may leave," Dee said pointedly. "And remove that rattletrap from my driveway."
    Roxann pushed away from the door. "Nice to see you again, Angora. Good luck in Chicago."
    Angora watched her leave, feeling as if her last link to freedom were slipping away. She couldn't even eke out a goodbye. When the front door closed, hot tears sprang to her eyes. She turned back to Dee. "Mother, I really am sorry. I know you and Daddy spent a lot of money on the wedding—"
    "It's not the money," Dee said, waving impatiently. "I took out an insurance policy."
    Angora blinked. "What?"
    "I took out an insurance policy on the wedding expenditures in case something like this happened."
    "In case I was jilted?" Angora asked, incredulous.
    Dee sighed. "Well, I was right, wasn't I?"
    Angora's body went completely cold, but somehow her feet moved, carrying her back into the foyer where she'd seen her purse sitting on the table among boxes of embossed napkins and little bags of unused birdseed. She shoved her life list inside the Prada bag—thank goodness black crocodile went with everything, including flannel—then slung it over her shoulder.
    "Where are you going, young lady?"
    "Away from here." She jogged to the front door, yanked it open, and ran outside, taking the stairs as fast as she could in her heels. "Roxann! Roxann, wait!"
    The van was pulling away from the sidewalk, but to her immense relief, the brake lights came on.
    She ran up to the passenger side door and tugged until it opened.
    "What's wrong?" Roxann asked.
    "I can't stay here. Take me with you."
    "Angora—"
    "Please, Roxann?" She blinked up a few desperate tears.