Slightly Irregular by Rhonda Pollero

Author:Rhonda Pollero [Pollero, Rhonda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, General
ISBN: 9781439100998
Google: 7ke6mP5NGnIC
Amazon: 1416590730
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2012-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

It took me two suitcases to fly to Atlanta for a long weekend. In my defense, I had to pack my maid-of-honor gown, and that alone took up half of the first bag. Then I had the substitute little black dress, plus three casual outfits and my return-flight ensemble. I'm a firm believer that if you dress well to fly, you get better service.

The second bag was smaller, and it was full of hair, makeup, shoes, purses, and other accessories. That I blamed on the strict TSA rules regarding liquids. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I’d never been one for lugging my own bag onto a plane and forcing it into the overhead compartment. When I traveled, I wanted my own stuff, not those complimentary bottles, even if they were from one of the best hotels in the world.

Carrying only my purse and a tote with my laptop, I cleared security and went directly to the Starbucks at the entrance to the gate area. Taking a seat near my departure area, I took a sip of my frappe, and then dug the cloisonné compact Jane had given me for my birthday out of my bag. There was still a little redness around the injury at my hairline but nothing I couldn’t tackle with some concealer. I wouldn’t have to worry about how it would look for the wedding. There would be stylists available who could easily make it invisible.

My cell rang, and when I glanced at the caller ID, I smiled. Right on time.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Are you at the airport?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t sound so impressed with yourself,” she warned. “Remember Great-aunt Mary’s funeral.”

Even though a decade had passed, I was still doing penance for missing my flight and the viewing. I think it was a subconscious thing. I was nineteen and didn’t want to view a dead body. “I remember, and I also recall apologizing a few zillion times.”

“Yes, but it still reflected badly on me.”

“I’m sorry I was late for Great-aunt Mary’s funeral.”

“Did you pack your dress?”

“Yes, though asking me now might not have been the best plan.”

“No, the poor planning was your decision not to ship it to the hotel so it could be properly steamed.”

“I’m sure the Ritz can properly steam my dress between tonight and Saturday.”

“Well, worrying about your dress is one more headache Lisa doesn’t need.”

I doubted my sister was stressing about the dress. She was probably still trying to remember how to walk in heels. But when it came to Cassidy Presley Tanner Rossi Browning, I picked my battles. Not that I ever won any of them, but placating her was the safest route. “I’ll apologize to her as soon as I see her.”

“So now you want her to stop tending to details to listen to you say you’re sorry?”

No, now I wanted to stick a pencil in my eye. “I’ll send her a text.”

“Really, Finley. Electronic apologies do not replace an appropriately sincere note.”

I wasn’t going to win this one. Not even close. “Mom, I hate to cut you off, but I need to step into the powder room before they call my flight.

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