Bless the Bride (Molly Murphy, #10)

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The next day when I went back to Mrs. Sullivan’s house I took little Bridie with me. When I went to Cherry Street to deliver the wedding invitation, Seamus had let me know that he wasn’t planning to attend. Had to be near the docks in case the ship decided to sail, was how he put it, but I got the feeling that he’d feel out of place at a fancy wedding in Westchester County. So he said his good-byes to his daughter and she trotted off with me, holding my hand and scarcely a look back at her father and brother.

To my relief Mrs. Sullivan made her quite welcome, indicating she was pleased to have a flower girl in the bridal procession after all. She set about making a dress for her and was delighted that Bridie proved a quick learner with her needle. “Why she’s better at it than you,” she said, looking up at me with triumph in her eyes. “I think she’ll make a splendid little helper for my maid.”

I was sure she would, but I had other ideas by this time. I took Daniel aside when he came up to see how we were getting along.

“Listen, how would you feel about starting married life with a child in the house?” I asked him.

He looked at me suspiciously. “Are you trying to tell me—because we haven’t … for some time.”

I laughed. “Not ours. I was thinking of Bridie. I’m sure she’d be fine with your mother, but I’m thinking she’d be a grand little helper for me, especially when the babies come, and she could continue her schooling.”

“But my mother’s grown quite fond of her,” he said. “And I think we should get off to a better start with just the two of us on our own. Later when we’re settled, we can discuss it again if you like.”

So now Bridie had people actually fighting over her. I could see that Daniel’s mother liked having someone to look after again, which was just fine with me. I suspected that Bridie would not end up as any maid’s helper. She would be spoiled and would learn to play croquet with the local young ladies.

During the next week I had plenty to occupy me, so that I had no time to think about crime and detection and specifically what had just happened to me in Chinatown. My days were filled with the minutiae of arranging a wedding, from ordering the ham from the butcher to the flowers for the church and the final fittings on my wedding gown. None of it seemed real until I awoke one morning and realized it was my wedding day. I looked out of my window to a perfect blue sky. Mrs. Sullivan had arranged a hearty breakfast, but I couldn’t eat a thing. While I was still toying with my boiled egg Sid and Gus arrived from New York, dressed so conventionally that I hardly recognized them.

We went up to my room and they helped me into my dress. It was all creamy silk and lace, and when I looked at myself in the looking glass, I hardly recognized myself. I was no longer the Irish tomboy—I was an elegant woman, about to be married.

I saw Mrs. Sullivan standing in the doorway, watching me admiring myself. She looked pleased and proud. I went over to her and gave her a hug. “Thank you, it’s wonderful,” I said.

“You look grand,” she said, going quite pink. “I only wish that my dear husband had lived to see this day.”

So wonders would never cease. She actually approved of me. Then a second wonder happened as Sid and Gus came back, having turned into demure young ladies in dresses of lavender silk.

“The carriage has come,” Bridie called, looking out of the window. “And it’s beautiful and it’s got two white horses, like Cinderella.”

In truth I felt like a magic princess. The others went down and I stood alone in the room, still looking at my reflection. In an hour’s time I’d be a married woman, Mrs. Daniel Sullivan. I’d have given up my freedom. I’d no longer be hunting people through Chinatown or the Lower East Side. I’d be expected to behave sedately and do the kind of things wives did. For a second I felt a twinge of panic. Then I thought—was it really such fun to be risking my life on a daily basis, not knowing where my next dollar was coming from? And was Mrs. Daniel Sullivan such a bad thing to be?

“Molly, come on, we’ll be late,” Mrs. Sullivan called from the stairs.

“Coming,” I called and went down to meet my future.