The Surgeon: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel: With Bonus Content

little dress just like it for Regina. You’ll look so cute together! Mom and daughter in matching dresses!”
    “Regina’s cute. I’m definitely not.”
    Angela’s lip began to quiver. It was a sign as subtly ominous as the first twitch of a nuclear reactor’s warning dial. “I worked all weekend making that dress. Sewed every stitch, every ruffle, with my own hands. And you don’t want to wear it, even for my wedding?”
    Jane swallowed. “I didn’t say that. Not exactly.”
    “I can see it in your face. You hate it.”
    “No, Mom, it’s a
great
dress.”
For a frigging Barbie, maybe
.
    Angela sank onto the bed, and her sigh was worthy of a dying heroine. “You know, maybe Vince and I should just elope. That would make everyone happier, wouldn’t it? Then I won’t have to deal with Frankie. I won’t have to worry about who’s included on the guest list and who isn’t. And you won’t have to wear a dress you hate.”
    Jane sat on the bed beside her, and the taffeta puffed up on her lap like a big ball of cotton candy. She punched it down. “Mom, your divorce isn’t even final yet. You can take all the time you want to plan this. That’s the fun of a wedding, don’t you think? You don’t have to rush into anything.” She glanced up at the sound of the doorbell.
    “Vince is impatient. Do you know what he told me? He says he wants to claim his bride, isn’t that sweet? I feel like that Madonna song. Like a virgin again.”
    Jane jumped up. “I’ll answer the door.”
    “We should just get married in Miami,” Angela yelled as Jane walked from the bedroom. “It’d be a whole lot easier. Cheaper, too, ’cause I wouldn’t have to feed all the relatives!”
    Jane opened the front door. Standing on the porch were the two men she least wanted to see on this Sunday morning.
    Her brother Frankie laughed as he entered the house. “What’s with the ugly dress?”
    Her father, Frank Senior, followed, announcing: “I’m here to speak to your mother.”
    “Dad, this isn’t a good time,” said Jane.
    “I’m here. It’s a good time. Where is she?” he asked, looking around the living room.
    “I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”
    “She has to talk to me. We need to put a stop to this insanity.”
    “Insanity?” said Angela, emerging from the bedroom. “Look who’s talking about insanity.”
    “Frankie says you’re going through with this,” said Jane’s father. “You’re actually going to marry that man?”
    “Vince asked me. I said yes.”
    “What about the fact
we’re
still married?”
    “It’s only a matter of paperwork.”
    “I’m not going to sign them.”
    “What?”
    “I said I’m not gonna sign the papers. And you’re not gonna marry that guy.”
    Angela gave a disbelieving laugh.
“You’re
the one who walked out.”
    “I didn’t know you’d turn around and get married!”
    “What am I supposed to do, sit around pining after you left me for
her
? I’m still a young woman, Frank! Men want me. They want to sleep with me!”
    Frankie groaned. “Jesus, Ma.”
    “And you know what?” added Angela. “Sex has never been better!”
    Jane heard her cell phone ringing in the bedroom. She ignored it and grabbed her father’s arm. “I think you’d better leave, Dad. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
    “I’m
glad
you left me, Frank,” said Angela. “Now I’ve got my life back and I know what it’s like to be appreciated.”
    “You’re my wife. You still belong to me.”
    Jane’s cell phone, which had gone briefly silent, was ringing again, insistent and now impossible to ignore. “Frankie,” she pleaded, “for God’s sake, help me here! Get him out of the house.”
    “Come on, Dad,” Frankie said, and clapped his father on the back. “Let’s go get a beer.”
    “I’m not finished here.”
    “Yes, you are,” said Angela.
    Jane sprinted back to the bedroom and dug the ringing cell phone out of her purse. Tried to ignore the arguing voices in the hallway as she answered:
    “Rizzoli.”
    Detective Darren Crowe said, “We need you on this one. How soon can you get here?” No polite preamble, no
please
or
would you mind
, just Crowe being his usual charming self.
    She responded with an equally brusque: “I’m not on call.”
    “Marquette’s bringing in three teams. I’m lead on this. Frost just got here, but we could use a woman.”
    “Did I just hear you right? Did you say you actually
need
a woman’s help?”
    “Look, our