I

t should have been a slam dunk.

A home run.

A touchdown.

Or any other sports analogy that spelled victory.

Not that sports analogies quite suited the occasion. This was a wedding after all. And not just any wedding: the wedding of Jilly, my best friend in the world, to Asher, my only brother and favorite sibling.

It had been a joyful event—pretty much exactly as Jilly wanted, with the notable exception of the ferrets. My nephews’ pets had not been on the guest list but they had ultimately played an important role in the day’s proceedings.

Now things were winding down. Before long, Jilly and Asher would leave Runaway Farm to start their life anew together. My heart was filled with joy for them both, and a bit of selfish sadness for me. I had relied on Jilly’s steadfast loyalty and good cheer since we were in college. With the start of this new era, I would need to spread myself around a bit.

It’s not like I lacked for friends, anymore. The crowd around the dance floor in the orchard proved that. I had only been home a year but I’d met many kindred spirits, including the artist Teri Mason, Mandy McCain, purveyor of pies and valuable intel, and octogenarian warriors, Edna Evans and Gertie Rhodes.

And then there was my family, who simultaneously made me smile and want to tear out my hair. Tonight, my four sisters were the very image of decorum in their “not quite bridesmaids but close” silk dresses. My mother, in her silver gown, stood out like a bolt of lightning, just as she’d wanted. That said, there had been no rips in the family fabric, which was a rarity indeed. With just an hour left, chances were good we could keep a lid on the bubbling energy that was always ready to explode among the Galloways.

“Ivy, it’s time,” said Daisy, my eldest sister, who had served as wedding coordinator.

She singled me out, not only because I was maid of honor, but because it was going to be my big moment.

Jilly was getting ready to toss her bridal bouquet and it was meant to come to me. My best friend had made no secret about that. It was the main reason she wanted a bouquet, even after flowers became a fraught subject.

The bouquet she waved at me now was exactly what she had envisioned: pink roses, baby’s breath and a stiff satin ribbon. Simple and stunning, just like the bride herself.

In many ways, Jilly wasn’t traditional at all. She had bowed to the whims of others, particularly Asher, who had clung stubbornly to his ideal of the perfect wedding. Some typical customs had ultimately fallen by the wayside due to trouble of the criminal kind just before the big day.

But the bouquet toss was going ahead with enthusiasm. In catching the flowers, I would be designated next to marry and Jilly wanted that for me.

I wanted that for me, too. Although I had never been the little girl who dreamed about a magical day in a white dress, the notion took hold of me soon after I arrived in my hometown of Clover Grove and reconnected with Kellen Harper, the chief of police. We’d been high school sweethearts but drifted for more than a decade while pursuing careers elsewhere. Despite many obstacles and dangerous challenges, we’d fallen for each other all over again. Lately, he'd spoken of marriage often and I thought more than once he was about to pop the question. But it hadn't happened yet.

If catching a bridal bouquet could move the needle, I was all for it. Especially since it would stifle the town’s robust rumor mill. People wondered if the handsome and reserved chief could actually settle down with a quirky hobby farmer who counted a clever sheepdog and a curious cat as her other two best friends. With my brother off the market, Kellan was undoubtedly the most eligible man in Clover Grove.

Mom was worried from the get-go that someone would snatch him away from me. Someone “normal.” Dahlia Galloway wasn’t satisfied with just one police officer in the family. She wanted the chief at the table as well.

It was probably safe to say that all of my family and friends, including aging preppers Edna and Gertie, approved of our match.

Even Keats, my border collie, seemed determined to get the job done. He constantly herded Kellan and me together, tying us nose to nose in a sheepdog knot, only to drive us apart and repeat the move. He was apparently ready to expand his small pack of preferred people.

The only holdout appeared to be the gentleman himself. He was standing beside Asher and Jilly now, looking tired but content. Getting this wedding off the ground amid mystery and mayhem had taken all of our scarce reserves.

He smiled at me and I straightened my bare shoulders before smiling back. The evening was cool for a strapless gown but excitement was keeping me warm. If only I weren’t hobbled by the slim, floor length bridesmaid dress. Not to mention a severely sprained ankle that put me in a compression bandage and boots.

Good thing it was going to be an easy maneuver. Jilly’s aim was excellent, after years of joining corporate baseball teams to woo clients.

She caught my eye and raised her fair eyebrows. “You ready?” she called.

“Born ready,” I called back. “Let’s land this thing.”

Her teeth gleamed and she nodded. Daisy and Asher leaned in and they had a brief tete a tete as Jilly finally turned her back on the dance floor.

I limped over and got into place behind her. I’d injured my foot two days earlier running in high heels over grass while trying to evade a nosy newspaper reporter. Then I made things far worse by getting into a sticky situation last night.

Still, I didn't anticipate a problem. After all, everyone was behind me, metaphorically speaking. While there were doubtless other single women coveting the promise in the bouquet tradition, no one would grudge me the prize. Even if they did, they wouldn’t go against the bride’s explicit wishes.

All I had to do was lift my arms and the flowers would arrive in my hands. Compared to the challenges I’d been facing recently, it was, indeed a guaranteed slam dunk.

Keats nudged my fingertips and mumbled. It sounded like he was warning me not to get too cocky. That was a little strange as he tended to encourage cockiness and modeled it himself. Brash confidence had gotten us out of many spots much tighter than this.

“What’s wrong?” I asked the dog. “It’s just a bouquet. If I don’t catch it, you can. It will still count.”

Percy gave a yowl that sounded cautionary, too.

“Boys,” I said, “You’re threatening my bouquet buzz. What gives?”

“Ivy, stop,” Daisy called.

She probably meant stop talking to the animals as if they understood. It’s not that she doubted, really, but as the one who’d done most of the heavy lifting in raising me, she still wanted me to act normal, at least in formal situations. That train had left the station, but I let her keep hoping.

The music struck up and there was movement all around the dance floor. People started emerging from the crowd and walking across the hardwood. Heels clicked, causing Jilly to turn back. She smiled as Poppy, Violet and Iris joined me. Obviously, they were coming to support me in case I stumbled on my bum ankle. That’s what sisters did.

“Sorry, Ivy,” Poppy said, positioning herself beside me. “The bouquet is mine.”

“Yours? What are you talking about?” I said. “You're not even dating anyone.”

Bending her knees and holding up her hands, she said, “You don’t know that. My love life is a private affair.”

“Nothing is a private affair in Clover Grove, Pops.” I gave her a gentle shove with one hand and she stood her ground. “If you were dating anyone the rumor mill would be all over it. Right now, I'm the only Galloway girl in the running for these flowers. Besides, Jilly wants me to have them.”

“She can’t pick favorites,” Poppy said. “This is a competitive tradition that goes back for generations. All's fair in love and flowers.”

“Ivy, she's right,” said Iris, moving to my other side. “Our chances of finding good men in this town are minimal at best. This bouquet is a valuable commodity.”

Violet was the only one who had the decency to look sheepish about it. “I’ve kissed way too many hill country frogs, Ivy. I need all the help I can get.”

Facing down three of my older sisters would have been daunting years ago. Even unthinkable. As the baby of the family, I was used to taking everyone’s hand-me-downs and being grateful for what I could get. But times had changed. I was a new person, with a farm, an inn, a noble calling, and the very best pets in the world. No one was going to take what was rightfully mine. Not even my sisters.

Edna clomped across the dance floor in heavy boots. As always, she had my back. She’d saved me from several killers and now she would put the bouquet bandits in their place. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a cannister of pepper spray.

“Back off,” she said. “All of you.”

“All of us?” I said. “You can’t mean you’re in the running, too.”

“Of course I am. I told you that earlier, Ivy.” My octogenarian neighbor eased my sisters away but I stayed in the prime position. “I'm having a renaissance. You know that.”

“A renaissance that includes romance? Old fashioned marriage in a modern bunker?”

Edna gave me a naughty grin. “Why not? I’d love to have a comrade in arms. But that’s the problem. Most single men in my age group want someone to look after them and my caregiving days are over. I’m sure there’s someone worthy out there and I'm hoping Jilly’s bridal bouquet will separate the wheat from the chaff.”

There was another movement beside the dance floor. Gertie stepped forward and then back. Her rifle, Minnie, was slung across the front of her royal blue dress. She’d stowed the gun away for most of the wedding but as the event came to a close, Gertie had become more relaxed. But for Gertie to relax fully, she needed to be armed. Her life hadn't been easy for many years and that's just the way it was.

“Really, Gertie?” I called. “Are you ready to move on from Saul? I find that a little hard to believe.”

“It's what he'd want for me,” she called back. “I suppose I’m not quite there yet, but bouquets like this don't come around every day. What if I’m ready next year?”

“Another bouquet will come along,” I said. Mine, I hoped, although I wasn’t about to say so in front of my intended groom.

“It’s Jilly’s bouquet we all want. Comes with good vibes.”

The voice came not from Gertie but Cori Hogan. I turned and saw the tiny trainer standing behind me. She was the only one of us who hadn’t changed back into wedding attire after dealing with the rabbit problem earlier. That meant she was dressed for action, in jeans, a leather jacket and her trademark black gloves with the neon orange middle fingers. It put her at a distinct advantage to nab that bouquet. I had seen what Cori, a natural athlete, could do in any rescue situation. This operation would be a piece of cake.

Clearly, Cori was the one to beat.

Edna grinned as I appraised Cori. “Don't count me out, Ivy. I'm more than a match for Cori Hogan, even without the pepper spray I won’t hesitate to use. If it comes to a beatdown I've got crazy on my side.”

Cori laughed. “You think you’ve cornered the market on crazy, Edna? I've got as much as you, if not more.” She flexed her gloved hands until her knuckles cracked. “Nearly everyone else in the Rescue Mafia is hooked up now. I've come to see marriage in more practical terms. A good guy brings another set of hands and we can never have too many.”

Before she’d finished talking, Teri Mason came out of the crowd and shrugged at me apologetically. “You know my luck with men, Ivy,” she said. “I can’t pass up this chance.”

I looked past her to Mandy McCain and she shook her head. “Not me,” she said. “All yours, Ivy, and I’ll help if I can.”

“What are you going to do, Mandy?” Edna said. “Pie us?”

“Sounds tasty,” I said. “But I’ve got this.”

Somehow, despite the growing crowd, I still believed it. Fate was on my side. If anyone had paid her dues around here lately, it was me. Solver of crimes. Derailer of killers. Unlikely hero.

The surprises weren’t over. Two older women in classy dresses squeaked across the floor in rubber soled shoes. Hazel Bingham and Martha Kinkaid.

My stomach sank. I was willing to fight the others tooth and claw but I couldn’t risk knocking over these two wonderful ladies. One had left the local retirement villa despite a hip injury and the other still lived there.

The biggest revelation in all of this was that so many of my friends still wanted romance. Maybe a wedding just brought that out in people.

Asher clapped to get our attention. “Are you ladies gonna yammer all night? Because I’m ready to kick off my honeymoon and I’d thank you to set my bride free.”

Jilly touched his sleeve. “Asher, it’s an important ritual and can't be rushed. I want all these women—my friends, my sisters-in-law—to think long and hard about this. As the bride, I’m asking them to make the right decision.”

“What decision is that?” The voice ringing out over the music belonged to my mother. I’d rather expected her to weigh in earlier, but this situation put her in a bit of a bind. Of course, she wanted all of her daughters married, and perhaps she hoped it would happen in birth order. But when the chips were down, she’d back me, I knew.

Mom clicked onto the dance floor, all slink and stilettos. I waited for her to pull my sisters aside and give them a dressing down. Instead, she stepped out in front of all of us, closer than anyone to Jilly.

In other words, she’d entered the arena.

My best friend’s face was a study in misery. She didn't want to offend her new mother-in-law by telling her to step aside. At this point, I knew Jilly wished she’d commissioned a dozen bouquets to send off every eager wannabe bride in style.

The set of her jaw suggested she was still determined to get that bouquet to me despite considerable obstacles. Her eyes darted here and there calculating the odds. Unless she targeted just right, not a single petal would survive the fray.

“Honey, just throw the flowers,” Asher said. “Let them work it out among themselves. Although Mom, I really think you could bow out. You, of all people, have options. You're always telling us so.”

“Too many,” Mom said, “and not a single proposal. So I'm here to take my chances with everyone else.”

Daisy’s frown deepened to a scowl. She was the only one of the Galloway women currently married. “Come on, you guys. You know full well Jilly wants Ivy to get this bouquet. And after all Ivy’s been through, she deserves that. Why do I have to tell you this?”

Mom bent at the knees. “Throw it, Jillian.”

I ran my hand through my long hair that had been sleek this afternoon and become frizzy as dampness fell over the orchard. I was frazzled. It had been a long day. A long week, in fact. On top of bridesmaid duties, I’d solved a puzzling predicament involving rabbits as well as a crime. I didn’t need to add one more fight to my list of accomplishments.

I decided in that moment to step out of the bouquet bonanza and enjoy the event as a spectator. It was too much drama. Catching a bunch of flowers couldn’t really bring about a proposal. I was way too jaded to buy into stupid traditions and it was time to prove it.

Jilly caught my eye again and jerked her head to one side. She was giving me a sign. I took it to mean she was okay with my withdrawing from the competition and I turned to leave.

But then something changed my mind.

Make that someone.

Justine Schalow had somehow managed to insinuate herself into the crowd of bouquet grabbers without my noticing. The new owner of the Clover Grove Tattler had already made my life difficult with her so-called journalism. She had put animals at risk, herself at risk and me at risk. In fact, she was likely only here today because I had helped her out of a very dangerous situation. And this was the thanks I got?

Despicable.

I moved back into the flower-obsessed throngs and let Keats part the way. In no time at all, he had pressed everyone back, including Mom. Her sultry slink turned into jittery jumps as he applied some teeth to the back of her dress. The language that came out of her mouth rivaled that of her teenaged grandsons, and she’d probably learned it from them since they’d been hanging out together.

The dog came back to my side and I touched his ears, “No need to play nice, buddy. You’re my edge. Percy, too.”

My fluffy orange cat had been avoiding wayward feet and crept forward now. We were set. All Jilly had to do was toss the bouquet gently over her shoulder. The pets would hold the line and the bouquet would be mine.

With a last calibrating look, Jilly turned her back on us again. She seemed smaller, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders and the bouquet in her hands weighed 50 pounds. But she grabbed the stems with both hands, paused for a long moment and then heaved.

The bouquet shot into the air, much higher than I’d anticipated. It was a pop fly, and I’d have to maneuver under it without turning my ankle or stomping a pet.

Things seemed to play out in slow motion. Pink and white flowers melded with the thousands of twinkle lights strung up in the apple trees. The bouquet peaked and descended, coming towards me, as if magnetized. The universe was definitely on my side. All I had to do was lift my hands and receive.

A hard shove from behind sent me stumbling sideways, arms flailing. One fist connected with satin and I suspected from the grunt that Edna had taken the hit. My ankle gave out and Mom—little more than 100 pounds of attitude—went down under me, shrieking as if she’d been crushed in an avalanche. It wasn't the first time we'd been caught in an awkward predicament this week.

Rolling over just in time, I saw Justine leap and snatch the bouquet out of the air. Edna and Cori collided and collapsed, taking Poppy with them. There was a moment of silence, followed by groans.

Justine did a victory dance in heels that hadn’t been stylish 10 years ago, let alone now. I could tell from the look she gave me that it wasn’t about romance for her. She simply wanted to beat me to the prize, and she’d done it. The reporter had her sights on me even before she arrived in Clover Grove and now that I’d helped her, it was worse, not better.

I clambered to my feet, giving Keats a rare glance of reproach. How could he let that happen? Surely his sheepdog stylings could have put Justine out of commission. Was he overtired from our latest adventure?

He turned the reproachful glance back on me, as if to point out he never tired and rarely slept. Constant vigilance was his motto.

Obviously he had his reasons for letting her win, and all I could do was be gracious when I really wanted to slap Justine silly. We didn’t commit violence. We stopped it. On the bright side, being gracious in defeat probably felt like violence to someone like Justine.

Others took up the cause, the loudest protests coming from Mom, as my sisters set her back on her stilettos. They released her too soon and she charged at Justine.

“How dare you tackle my injured daughter?” she said. “I’m sorry I invited you.”

Mom may well have delivered the slaps I’d envisioned had Jilly not shoved my brother onto the dance floor. He picked our mother up under one arm and carried her away.

I looked around for Kellan, dreading to see his reaction to the bouquet beatdown. Several men, including my father and uncle, had surrounded my boyfriend for what appeared to be a more weighty discussion than Jilly was now having with Justine.

“You have some nerve, Justine Schalow,” my best friend said, glaring up at the reporter. “If not for Ivy, you might not even be alive today.”

“I would have been fine,” Justine said. “A reporter needs to take a few risks to get a story. And a bridal bouquet, it seems.”

I half-expected Jilly to demand Justine return the flowers but she smiled instead. “You don't deserve my flowers. And you didn’t get them. What you’re holding is a fake bouquet.”

“A fake?” Justine asked, staring at it closely. The flowers were obviously quite real. “What do you mean?”

Jilly snapped her fingers and Kevelyn Welsh, the florist, stepped forward with an identical bouquet.

Accepting it, Jilly walked right over to me. She gently tossed the bouquet into my hands. “There. That’s official. The real bouquet, duly caught by my truest friend. No way would I risk my wedding magic on this riffraff.”

I laughed and cradled the bouquet in both arms. “This riffraff is your family. Your community.”

Jilly huffed in disgust and signaled Keats and Percy. “Boys. Take out the trash, please.”

Keats had already circled Justine, preparing to do just that. She nearly dropped the flowers at the first nip, but I had to hand it to her, this reporter was resilient. A worthy adversary, unfortunately. Hopefully the flowers would wilt from her negative energy even before she got home. In the meantime, Percy climbed the back of her baggy dress and clung there, no matter how she jiggled.

By the time Justine was out of the orchard, Kellan had come over. “I see you caught it,” he said, kissing my cheek. “I knew you would.”

“Never a doubt in my mind,” I said, holding up the blooms so that he could enjoy their fragrance.

“Sweet,” he said. “The world needs more of that.”

I moved the bouquet to my left hand, waiting for soft ears to arrive under my dangling fingertips. Keats took his time escorting Justine out, but eventually a hearty pant-laugh told me she’d remember her banishment forever, even if she refused to stay gone.

“I should have trusted you,” I said, smiling down at the dog. “You knew all along what Jilly had planned.”

The dog mumbled a sassy retort.

“What did I miss?” Kellan asked.

“Nothing at all.” I surrendered the flowers into Daisy’s care and offered him my hand. “We still have time for one more dance.”