“Yes, I was, actually,” Ginger groused. “You stole my toast. That’s at least a misdemeanor, and I’m marrying the county sheriff.”
Marigold mumbled something around her mouthful of stolen toast. Lainey couldn’t make it out, but it sounded insulting.
Ginger turned to Lainey. “I hope Marigold hasn’t been talking your ear off.”
“Well, a little. I practically feel as if I know you, she’s talked about you so much.”
Ginger laughed. “Just ignore about 90 percent of what she says. She’s certifiably crazy.”
Lainey put her fork down. “Oh, my God, you noticed it, too?”
“How could I not? We’ve been friends for like eight years. Marigold is nutso. Wackadoodle. Cra. Zee. But it’s fun to watch.”
“I know, right? It’s kind of like being in a romantic comedy, and she’s the ditsy friend who drags everyone into all kinds of crazy shenanigans, which everyone barely survives.”
“Most of the time, they do,” Ginger nodded.
“Hey, I’m sitting right here,” Marigold said. “I can hear you!”
“So, you’ve got good hearing. You’re still crazy.” Ginger tucked into her gooey, golden cheese omelet.
Laine was startled when Marigold tapped her fingernail on the placemat, jerking her out of her daze. “Hmmm,” she said. “That’s a nice picture of Ginger.”
“Oh, heck! Pardon me..” Lainey looked at Ginger apologetically. “It’s just a nervous habit. I always—”
“That’s it!” Marigold shouted suddenly, slapping her hand on the table. Other diners paused to stare at her, then turned back to their meals.
Lainey and Ginger glanced at each other.
“Told ya. Certifiably crazy,” Ginger said, and went back to eating her omelet as if Marigold did that kind of thing every day.
She probably does.
“Ginger, see how beautiful her sketches are? Kat needs to come to the wedding to do sketches that you can put in your wedding album. She could sketch you and Loch, the maids of honor, the groomsmen, the wedding cake, the grounds of the mansion…oh, my God, I’m such a genius.” Marigold clapped her hands together gleefully.
Ginger took a closer look at the sketch as Lainey poked at her eggs, trying not to be self-conscious. Lainey always drew with a light, quick touch; the picture had curlicue filigrees on it, and she’d sketched Ginger with big, sparkling eyes.
“That is very pretty,” Ginger said.
“We should go out to the wedding site today, see how everything’s coming along. I have a feeling we’re needed there. Never argue with a psychic,” she added as Lainey started to protest.
“I’ll come with you. I was headed over there anyway to meet my mother. Lainey, if you could come to the wedding to do sketches, I would love that. I’ll have my mother cut you a check. Here, I’m taking the placemat to show her.” Ginger tucked it in her purse.
“You don’t have to pay me,” Lainey protested.
“Of course we’ll pay you.” Ginger turned to Marigold. “We should go. My mother has a full day of driving me crazy scheduled, and we wouldn’t to disappoint her, would we?”
“Oh, look,” Marigold said as they stood up. “Your handsome husband-to-be is here.”
Loch had just pulled in to the parking lot. Lainey found herself looking to see if anyone was with him, like, for instance, a handsome wolf shifter…and she was annoyed at how disappointed she was to see that Tate was nowhere in sight.
When they walked outside, Loch threw his arms around Ginger and pulled her close in a tight embrace.
“My very own stalker,” Ginger said affectionately. “We’re just headed over to the Beaudreau mansion. I was thinking of hitching a ride with a hot stranger. Do you happen to know any?”
“Hmm, hot stranger fantasies. I think I can oblige,” Loch said, planting a lingering kiss on his fiancée’s full lips.
“Eww, get a room,” Marigold groaned. Lainey had parked her rented car behind Marigold’s, so Marigold tugged on her sleeve and they headed toward their cars. “Come on. Let’s leave before they do it right here in the parking lot.”
“Why did you need all the subterfuge about me doing sketches at the wedding? Why not just tell Ginger that you had some kind of psychic vision and I needed to be there?”
“That’s not how these things work,” Marigold said.
“How, exactly, do these things work?”
But Marigold was ignoring her. “Oh, crud,” she said irritably. “That’s Aurora Sinclair.”
The woman Lainey had glimpsed when she’d first arrived in town was walking towards Loch and Ginger in a determined fashion. By her side was a wolf shifter who appeared to be in his fifties, and there were several people trailing them. All wolf shifters, Lainey could tell by their scent. The group came to a stop just a few feet away from Ginger.
“The Sinclairs. Those a-holes,” Marigold muttered, and she changed directions to return to Ginger’s side. Lainey followed her, as Loch, scowling, stepped forward.