We disguised the invitation, said it was time I met Leslie and for Joel to have more than a passing acquaintance with Nick. How about dropping by for a drink? Saturday night? Six, six thirty, so it doesn’t interfere with your evening plans?
Which explains why he took the “dropping by” so casually that he showed up with not only Leslie—tall, dark hair artfully twisted, in jeans and boots and a sweater that was surely not purchased in Everton—but also his buddy Brian Dolan and Mrs. Brian Dolan. All four were on their way to a movie, Joel explained. He thought, having heard that Brian had set up shop here, that I’d be pleased to see him off duty, too.
After securing two more glasses from the kitchen and pouring the champagne, Nick cleared his throat in hammy fashion, and said, “First, welcome, everyone. Leslie, very nice to meet you. Faith and I think you’ve been an excellent influence on Joel, who now answers his phone and returns messages at least fifty percent of the time.”
Leslie raised her glass and gave a little bow.
“And welcome, Brian and Patty. Patty, I don’t know if Brian’s told you that our basement has become his second home. Sure, the neighbors think Faith and I are under house arrest, but we hold our heads high nonetheless”—apparently a cue for Brian to ask, “Did the chief call you?”
I said no. Was there news about the bloodstains?
“Bloodstains? Do I know about this?” Leslie asked Joel.
“Ancient history,” he told her. “The previous owner probably killed a couple of her husbands here.”
“Allegedly,” said Brian.
Shop talk inspired Joel to announce, “I’m on the police department’s tow list as of this week.”
Nick said, “Wow. Quite the get. Was that bid out?”
Brian said, “No. We maintain a list and we call them in order.”
Patty Dolan asked, “Is that what we’re celebrating?”
Finally, the needed segue! I slipped my arm around Nick’s waist. “Want to take this one?”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “We’ve gathered you here tonight—well, not exactly Brian and Patty, but you’re totally welcome—to tell you that the most wonderful woman I’ve ever shared an office with . . . has asked me to marry her!”
“I did not! You asked me.”
He said, “I did, didn’t I!”
“At La Grotta,” I told them. “But not officially until dessert.”
“She made a scene.”
“I cried. The people at the next table asked if I was okay.”
Nick said, “I told them, ‘I just asked her to marry me. I think this is how she says yes.’ They sent two glasses of champagne over. It turned out that he was an alum.”
“Of course he was,” said Joel. “By the way, Nick, I called it.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You only predicted that it wouldn’t stay platonic.”
“It was never platonic,” said Nick. “Or was that my overactive imagination?”
“So it’s official?” Patty Dolan asked.
I said, “Yes, and you’re the first to know.”
Hugs and high-fives were exchanged. Patty took my left hand for a quick survey then dropped it quickly. I said, “He’s not allowed to buy me a ring due to previous bad associations with that custom.”
“How long have you known each other?” Leslie asked.
I asked Nick, “When did I start at ECD? Two years ago? Eighteen months?”
“It’ll be two years on September 30,” he said.
I kissed him for that, for an anniversary date I didn’t know he’d been observing.
“I fell first,” Nick said. “But we were waylaid by complications.”
“On both sides,” I said.
“Isn’t there always?” said Leslie. “And as a former relative by marriage of the dick who was one of those complications, I’d say the best man won.”
“What higher compliment than that?” said Nick.
“Have you told Mom and Dad?” Joel asked.
“Not yet. Soon. This was our trial run.”
Brian said, “I feel a little funny. Like we crashed your engagement party.”
“Nonsense,” said Nick. “You’re our forensic family.”
“Let me take pictures,” said Patty. “At least we can do that much. The family portrait won’t have to be a selfie.”
“In front of the fireplace would be good,” I said.
Leslie said, “Just you three, really, Faith and Nick and Joel,” steering me by the shoulders between the two men.
I waited for Joel to agree, surely remembering photos documenting life with his short-term ex-wife. Instead, he said, “No, Les. You’re in the picture if it’s okay with the bride and groom.”
“Of course.”
Nick said, “How did it get this far that I’m marrying a Frankel and I’ve only met Joel in the driveway?”
“A hundred and ten inches of snow,” said Joel. “There’s your answer.”
“Say ‘whiskey,’?” Patty directed, then snapped away.
Nick said, thankfully with a grin, “So, Joel, I understand you told your mother I was gay.”
“Look how well that worked out,” Joel said. “It was kind of brilliant of me.”
“And entirely fictional,” I added for the Dolans’ benefit. “It was Joel being cute.”
“He is very cute, isn’t he?” said Leslie.
“Can you see why I wanted her in the picture?” Joel asked.
“So do we,” I said.
“Have you set a date?” Patty asked.
Nick said, “Not that I know of. Have we?”
I said, “I might let my parents weigh in on that.”
“Hullo, ice sculpture and prime rib,” said Joel. “Are there any chateaus around that rent out their ballrooms?”
“There’s always right here, under our outlaw roof,” said Nick. “On Halloween. We’ll invite Mrs. Lavoie and Theresa.”
I said, “I’m going to make a toast now.”