The newlyweds were both adorned by subtle tans and stylish clothes. For the bride, a white silk blouse with billowing sleeves, black skinny jeans, and red crocodile stiletto pumps. I’d never seen the groom duded up but a few days in Italy had changed that: bright-blue linen shirt, white gabardine slacks, brown basket-weave loafers, no socks. An impressive dark stubble beard sparingly flecked with gray lent Garrett Burdette’s face some grit and gravitas. So did black-framed Le Corbusier eyeglasses and a gold pinkie ring set with a tiny carved cameo.
A matching stone three times the size dangled from a gold chain nesting in the hollow of Brearely Burdette’s smooth neck. Her lush, dark hair bore lighter tints than at the wedding. The hand not enhanced by a diamond ring led to an arm graced by half a dozen gold bangles.
Milo said, “You guys look great.”
Objectively, the two of them did. But they hung their heads as they shuffled in, gripping each other’s hands, waiting passively as Milo arranged four chairs on four sides.
“Sit wherever, Mr. and Mrs. B. Make yourselves comfortable.”
The look that passed between the couple said that was impossible, but they cater-cornered from each other and held hands atop the table.
“Coffee? Tea? Coke?”
“No, thanks,” said Brearely Burdette. Hoarse voice, low volume. Slight redness around the sclera of her eyes suggested a tough morning. As she stroked the top of her husband’s jumpy hand, his Adam’s apple took an upward elevator ride before plummeting downward.
“Okay, then.” Milo shut the door. As he sat near Garrett, Garrett sucked in his breath and looked at Brearely.
She said, “It’s okay, honey. You know what to do.”
As if she’d coached him. She probably had.
He blew out enough air to flutter his lips and turn them rubbery. Scratching his stubbly chin, he said, “All right…this is something I’ve been thinking about. I wasn’t sure what to do so I waited to see if it would stay on my mind. It did. I told my wife. She convinced me.”
“Sweetie-doll,” said Brearely, “you would’ve done it anyway. You know what’s right.”
She gave his cheek a quick, light peck.
He said, “Thanks, babe—Lieutenant, I probably should’ve come forward earlier. I guess I just—all the stress, who goes through something like what we did?”
Brearely nodded.
Milo said, “Unbelievable.”
Garrett said, “So we needed to get away. Like I told you, a honeymoon now wasn’t our original plan, we really were going to wait. But then things…piled up. My firm said okay. So.”
Shrug.
Milo said, “Italy was good?”
Brearely said, “Amazing.” To Garrett: “You chilled, you had time to think, you figured it out, here we are.”
“More like you figured it out, babe. You gave me moral clarity.”
“No, doll.” She squeezed his hand. “I just listened. You knew. You know.”
Her smile swung around, encompassing three sides of the table. Every man in the room graced with a share.
“I suppose,” said Garrett. He pressed his wife’s palm to his cheek.
She said, “You opened yourself up.” The smile expanded. “And you also found out you’ve got a great beard. Look at my man’s macho pelt, guys. Just a few days.”
Milo said, “Impressive.”
Garrett gave a mournful look. “Yeah, that’s me, Mr. Macho. Sorry, Lieutenant, no sense delaying. We’re here because we might know something. I might. About what happened. Or maybe not, you be the judge.”
Milo sat back and crossed his legs.
Garrett said, “What we said initially was true. We don’t know her…the victim.”
“We even went over the invite list,” said Brearely. “Even though we knew she definitely wasn’t on. Then we remembered. Someone who almost was going to be there. And when you said Poland.” Heaving chest. “Wow.”
Garrett said, “We’re talking about a friend of my sister. Amanda, not Marilee. She asked us to add him to the list. Last minute. It was annoying, a hassle, we didn’t want to do it but Amanda persisted and got all…”
“Obnoxious,” said Brearely.
Garrett bit his lip. “Amanda can get like that.”
Milo said, “Persistent.”
Brearely said, “Obnoxious and pushy. Who does that at the last minute? The table plans took forever to figure out, we used two separate computer programs. Then five days before, she comes up with that?”
Milo said, “A friend of hers.”
“Some kind of genius,” said Garrett. “She called him The Brain.”
Brearely said, “You’re obnoxious, who cares what your IQ is?”
Milo said, “A friend.”
“Or maybe more like a mentor,” said Garrett. “An academic type.”
I said, “Type?”
“She said she met him at the U., he was brilliant, had done endowed research”—deep inhalation—“in Poland. I said sounds like he’s way older than you and she gave me one of her looks.”
“The death-ray stink-eye,” said Brearely. “We’ve all been on the receiving end. Especially Garrett, he’s so nice to her, she thinks he’s a sucker. But he’s learning. It’s like a learning curve.”
Kissing Garrett’s cheek again. She turned to us. “She’s got anger issues, which she showed when we said no way, it’s five days. Then his mom said couldn’t we do one thing for Amanda, she has no friends.” Sigh. “So we said okay and I had to go at the table charts again thinking OMG what the F am I going to do?”
Garrett said, “Amanda’s different. Always has been. So when she said there was someone she wanted to invite, a guy, even though it was…a little late—I figured maybe she’s turned a corner.”
“Crazy late,” said Brearely, eyes flashing. “A humong-o hassle. But you explained, doll, and what did I say?”
“You said okay, babe.”
“I said sure. And then what happened?”
“Then I went to Amanda and said no problem, give me his name and address—”
Brearely broke in, “He goes to her, I’m working on the chart, you’re not going to believe this, guys, she says, hold on I have to ask him if he wants to come. I mean, think about it, now it’s four days, she’s made demands, pulled a hissy fit, and she hasn’t even asked him? Now poor Garrett has to come and tell me, and yes I kind of freak out.”
Garrett winced, remembering. “You were great, considering.”
Brearely laughed. “I wasn’t fine, I lost it. I mean I’ve been rearranging tables trying to fit some nerd in, he’s probably going to come dressed all wrong, and now she’s telling Gar we need to hold on? So, yeah, I pulled a monster freak.”
Pouting at her husband. “I took it out on you, doll. I’m sorry.”
“No big deal, babe.”
“Because you’re the sweetest.” To us: “You know what it’s like. You guys work with pressure. Don’t you sometimes just say enough?”
Milo and I nodded.
Brearely turned back to her husband. “I was a total bee-atch and you didn’t deserve it but water through the bridge.” Back to us: “Then it got worse. Tell them, doll.”
Garrett sighed. “I didn’t hear from Amanda so two days before the wedding I texted her and asked what the story was.”
“?’Cause I was pressuring him,” said Brearely. “?’Cause my mom was pressuring me. Tell them what happened then, Gar.”
“She didn’t answer my text,” said Garrett. Abashed, as if divulging a creepy family secret.
“Two days before,” said Brearely.
“I tried calling,” said Garrett, “got voicemail. Finally, I got hold of her and she made like it wasn’t an issue anymore.”
“No, no, tell them exactly what she said.”
“She said he didn’t want to come. The venue was too—it wasn’t right for him.”
“No, no, no, the exact words, Gar.”
Garrett looked down at the table. “He said it sounded crass.”
“Crass,” said Brearely. “Try to do something a little different and you get ripped apart. He’s a crass ass!”
Tears filled her eyes. “We wanted it to be special. Instead…”
Garrett said, “We made it work. In Rome. That trattoria. All the things we saw.”
She sniffled. “Yes, we had a beautiful time. Our life is going to be beautiful forever.” Shaking her head, she mouthed, Crass.
I said. “The guy sounds like a jerk.”
“A jerk and an asshole and an effin’ shitty-butt-wipe,” said Brearely. “So now I’ve got to take him out of the table arrangement and move people around again. Like those Sudoku things Garrett does. One number doesn’t fit, it effs up everything else.”
Milo said, “You never got a name.”
Dual head shakes.