IT WAS COMING BACK.
Jennifer Winn watched the gigantic black cloud gather momentum as it rolled off the Pacific Ocean, swallowed the sandy shore, the rocky bluff and every last ray of evening light. When its thick saliva began to coat the windowpanes of the Grand Hotel, she took an involuntary step back.
Storms, floods, droughts — these Jennifer took in her stride as Courage Bay's resident meteorologist. But this insidious fog, which robbed her of sight, upset her on a deep visceral level she could not explain.
"Isn't it perfect?" Russell asked from behind her.
Jennifer spun away from the blackened windows to face her fiancé"s bright smile. She'd been so caught up in thoughts of the fog that it took a moment for her to realize he was talking about the ballroom.
Her eyes swept over the expansive space with its twenty-two-foot ceilings, sparkling chandeliers and shiny marble floors. Waiters in pristine attire prepared place settings of crystal and fine china on tables covered in white linen. According to the hallway banner, tonight the room would be filled with a prestigious law school's alumni celebrating their twenty-year reunion.
"Very nice," she said, "but big."
"Don't worry about filling the tables," Russell said. "My invitation list alone will do that."
"Yours will have to. Mine has no more than a dozen names." She hadn't meant the comment to come out with sadness, but it seemed to.
Russell clasped her hand, rubbed the large diamond on her finger. "Jen, you deserve a big, beautiful wedding, and I'm going to see that you get one."
He would, too. Russell was the cliché of every woman's fantasy — handsome, charming and more than ready to commit. From the moment they'd met the year before, he'd done everything he could to sweep her off her feet.
By all rights this should be the most exciting time of her life.
"I gave the hotel manager the deposit," Gina called as she came into the hotel's ballroom from the adjacent hall.
Jennifer found herself frowning at her approaching friend. "Why did you do that? We haven't decided yet."
"But Russell said — " Gina began.
"I told her to give him the deposit, Jen," Russell interrupted.
"This place is normally booked at least a year in advance. The only reason they have an opening next month is because of a last-minute cancellation. I wouldn't have even known about that if the manager wasn't a patient of mine."
"This is the first place we've seen," Jennifer said. "There may be something else that — "
"Not at this late date," he declared. "The only other available reception halls are dumps. Mother's already checked them out. A reception says a lot about a couple. We want ours to say the right thing about us. This is the place that will."
Jennifer once again surveyed the elegantly appointed room. No doubt about it. Russell fit right in here.
He moved closer, circled his arm around her.
"I want us to be married next month, Jen, not next year. If we don't take this right now, someone else is going to. We can't let this chance pass us by."
"Russell's right," Gina said. "My group used to perform here. The acoustics are great. You're going to be able to hear the band's every drumbeat."
"What band?" Jennifer asked.
"The one Mother hired for us on Thursday," Russell said.
"Eight-piece. Three vocalists. You'll love them. Their repertoire includes everything from classic to contemporary. She gave them a list of all the songs we like. "My One and Only' will be what they play when we have our first dance together as man and wife. Great pick, isn't it?"
Of course it was. Russell and his mother had impeccable taste. So did his father and sister, for that matter. The Sprague family genes were positively oozing with the stuff.
"And now let me give you a preview of the coming attractions," Russell said.
He clasped her hand and whisked her on to the dance floor, waltzing to the music being piped through the ballroom. As with everything else he did, Russell was a precision dancer, each move executed with perfect timing. Jennifer concentrated on matching his steps.
"Can't you see us right here next month — me in my tux and you in your wedding dress — all eyes on us? We're going to have a great wedding. All you have to do is leave it to me."
A big part of her wanted to. Russell was a man who knew how to get things done. And what he didn't have time to handle, his mother would be more than willing to. Between them they would put together a first-class affair.
But this was her wedding. Shouldn't she be in the thick of the preparations? Wasn't that supposed to be half the fun? Why was she content to sit on the sidelines?
Jennifer began missing steps, no matter how diligently she tried to keep up.
Russell eased to a graceful halt. "Tired, darling?"
"A little." Until she said it, she didn't realize how much. It had been awhile since lunch. Maybe she needed to eat something. Maybe she was coming down with a cold. Maybe —
She felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Your relief is here," Gina said. "I'll drag his inept butt around the dance floor a few times and give your poor stepped-on toes a chance to heal."
Gina always did have a good sense of humor. Jennifer gave her friend a smile and moved aside.
As Russell and Gina whirled away, Jennifer looked around, to see that the waiters had finished their preparations and left. She headed for the nearest table and lowered herself onto one of its cushioned chairs to watch her fiancé and best friend.
They were something to watch. Gina shared Russell's dark coloring and height. She was a professional dancer, performing on stage throughout Southern California. Together they turned what proved to be a difficult beat for Jennifer into a flowing art form.
Maybe I should take lessons, Jennifer thought. Russell loves parties and socializing. There'll be a lot of dancing in our future.
Wish I enjoyed dancing more.
Her gaze drifted to the blackened windows beyond the twirling couple. Whatever this strange mood was that claimed her, it seemed in some way to be linked to the unsettling fog.
For nearly a week, the coastal community of Courage Bay had been consumed each evening by the ominous cloud. It wreaked havoc on the roadways, as residents, trying to navigate through the unaccustomed gloom toward the light of hearth and home, found themselves in pileups and ditches and the hospital's emergency room.
And with every weather forecast she gave, Jennifer had nothing to offer but more of the same. The precipitating conditions of unseasonably warm air masses mixing with the cold water up-welling along the coast persisted.
It was as though the fog were a ravenous predator, rising out of the ocean each night to hunt its human prey.
Jennifer jumped right out of her chair as an ominous roar suddenly drowned out the music. Two gigantic eyes glowed out of the dense fog and stared right at her — giving shape to her darkest imaginings. Time stopped as her disbelieving eyes locked on those of the disembodied beast.
Then a private airplane materialized out of the black night and smashed through the windows, spewing glass everywhere, tearing the crystal chandeliers from the ceiling and crashing onto the floor in a cacophony of blinding light and deafening sound.
And beneath its rocking, twisted body were Russell and Gina.
Jennifer yanked her cell phone out of her purse as she ran into the wreckage. She darted through the broken glass, ducked beneath ripped and dangling electrical wires hanging from the ceiling, still emitting sparks.
A flurry of startled voices and stomping feet erupted behind her. She paid them no heed as she vaulted over a smashed chandelier. By the time she'd told the 911 operator what had happened, she'd reached Russell beneath one of the plane's sheared-off wings.
She dropped to his side, her heart beating high, fast. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. Broken glass and pieces of plane and other debris surrounded him, but she could see no blood to indicate a wound.
"Russell?"
No response. She groped for the pulse in his neck. For what seemed like forever, she felt nothing but the pounding of her heart. Then a steady beat registered beneath her fingertips. Relief left her light-headed.
Continues...
Excerpted from Critical Affair by M.J. Rodgers Copyright © 2005 by M.J. Rodgers. Excerpted by permission.
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