“Easy, bro,” Serena said, holding up both hands in acquiescence.
Robin swore under her breath. I had to agree; this was not going to end well. And where the hell was everybody? The police? The tourists? Was everyone off having tea or something? Had Serena locked the door behind her?
“You killed the only man I ever loved,” Helen said, her voice strained and halting.
“I told you to shut up!” Martin roared.
“And I’ll never do what you say,” Helen said flatly.
Serena stared in disbelief at her sister-in-law, and I couldn’t blame her. What was Helen thinking by taunting Martin? On the other hand, what did she have to lose?
Martin flexed his arm, putting more pressure on Helen’s throat. It must’ve been the last straw, because she bent, then swung her leg and kicked him in the shin.
Martin grunted. “What’re you-”
She kicked him again.
“Stop provoking him.” Serena moved closer, clearly sensing trouble.
The kick didn’t disarm Martin, but it distracted Serena long enough for me to grab the only thing within reach: the four-foot-high wrought-iron candle stand. I whipped it like a light saber at Serena’s stomach and her gun went flying.
I heard the chapel door bang open then. “Yoo-hoo!”
“It’s Mom!” I shouted at Robin. “Don’t let her come in here!”
Robin took off. I went scrambling for the gun and so did Martin, relaxing his grip on Helen, who sprang loose and went after the only target available: Serena. Robin jumped on her back and started pounding the hell out of her.
“Go, Helen!” Mom shouted from the back of the nave.
“Get off me, you bitch!” Serena bucked, but Helen was too pissed off to care.
Martin yanked the gun out of reach, but I managed to scrape his arm with my nails. The gash drew blood and he swore ripely as it dripped onto his beige linen jacket.
“Shit,” he cried. “You bitch!”
“Payback always is,” I said, and backhanded him across the chin. Man, that hurt.
His head jerked back just as heavy footsteps pounded across the nave floor. Martin paid no attention, just shook off my attack and fought to aim the gun back at me. “I’ll kill you, bitch.”
“I don’t think so,” Derek said as he dived on top of Martin.
“Oomph.” Martin’s hand released the gun and it skittered away.
I managed to roll out of Derek’s way, then scrabbled to my knees and claimed the gun. I wasn’t entirely sure whom to point it at, so I held it up as if it were a trophy. Which it sort of was, I guess.
Derek jumped to a standing position, then shoved one foot onto Martin’s back, forcing him to stay prone on the floor until a constable scurried in and handcuffed him.
Derek’s eyes were dark with concern as he lifted me up, took the gun from my hand and pulled me close.
“Where the hell have you been?” I asked as I buried my face in his soft leather jacket.
“Just trying to quell an international incident,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. “Sorry I was late.”
I sagged against him, craving the warm strength he radiated. “Late? No, you were right on time.”
“And the grand-prize winner of the Lawton-McNamara Bookbinding Prize is… Brooklyn Wainwright!”
As I walked up the aisle to the wide stage, I was vaguely aware of the announcer describing my work. A giant screen played a short video I’d shot of my gilding process. I think I made a speech, but mere minutes later, back in my chair and surrounded by the crowd of over two thousand of my peers, I had almost no memory of what I’d said.
But I had a gleaming Baccarat crystal plaque with my name on it to remind me that I’d won.
Later, during the champagne reception that followed, I savored the rush of hugs from family and friends, the joy of my work being recognized, and the admittedly shallow but nonetheless thrilling shock of victory. I was pretty sure I’d never forget it as long as I lived.
The sight of my parents dressed in matching tartans almost brought tears to my eyes. It was safe to say that the one thing they would never be called was subtle.
My mother ran up and hugged me. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She looked me up and down. “We should’ve bought you a kilt, too. You look so serious in your black suit.”
“I was trying for understated elegance.”
“And that’s exactly what you achieved,” she said with a generous smile.