The chapel was perhaps one of three rooms on the bottom floor of the casino that had a window.

In fact, its window was stained glass, featuring a giant ruby red heart encircled in clear glass, which was itself encircled in red ornamentation, the kind often found in old medieval texts.

What little light there was, peeking out from under the storm outside, filtered in through the stained glass and turned everything in the chapel blood red.

I stood at the front next to Daphne as Logan ran through the lines of what we were going to do during our actual wedding.

This was just the rehearsal.

Still, I could feel butterflies. I was so nervous. Not anxious, nervous. Excited, even. It had been a long time since I felt the positive side of that emotion, and it didn’t even belong to me; it belonged to whoever the original groom was, back when this story was more than a story.

He was in love, completely head over heels. And if his bride-to-be was anything like Daphne, I could see why.

“And then I say, ‘You may kiss the bride,'” Logan said.

“And then I kiss her, right?”

“You’re getting it,” he said.

“Finally, I get permission,” I said.

Daphne laughed, and we leaned in and kissed.

“And then I introduce the room to Mr. and Missus….” Logan started to say, but then wasn’t sure.

“Lawrence,” Daphne said. “I’ve never had any problem with changing my name.” She smiled at me, and I smiled back at her.

“Introduce the room to Mr. and Mrs. Riley Lawrence,” Logan said.

Those few people who were in the chapel all clapped.

Outside, thunder roared, and the rain rolling down the stained glass window turned the blood-colored room into a surreal kaleidoscope.

We turned hand in hand and walked back down toward the exit. Kimberly, Antoine, and Andrew were there to greet us.

We were at the very beginning of the Party Phase, so gathering information was key. We still weren’t sure what the nature of this murder mystery would be, other than its isolation.

“The hotel upgraded you to the penthouse,” Kimberly said, “because it looks like you may not get to leave.”

“That’s wonderful,” Daphne said.

“This water gets any higher, we may have to join you up there,” Andrew said. “Even from my room, all I can see all around is water. I can’t even see the parking lot.”

“Andrew,” Daphne said, “we are fine. You need to stop worrying. This place was built to last. There’s no need to plan for the worst. Management has assured us the storm will pass soon. And if we do all have to squeeze into the penthouse, so be it.”

“It’ll be an awkward wedding night,” Antoine said.

“Maybe for all of you,” I said with a smile.

That got some laughs, but they were just humoring me for the camera.

“But maybe we should go up and take a look,” I said. “Get a bird’s-eye view of this storm.”

“We are not going into the honeymoon suite until after the wedding,” Daphne said, putting her hand on my chest, “There are some traditions that are worth keeping.”

“Even in the storm of the century?” I asked.

“Especially in the storm of the century,” she said.

We continued to banter like that, keeping things light and joking, trying to will an upbeat atmosphere into this drowned environment, and doing an alright job at it.

This wasn’t the type of story that had to be upbeat. There was something comical about all scenario-based murder mysteries like this, but it was possible we were in for a very dangerous and wet final act.

“As I live and breathe,” someone said behind me, “if it isn’t little Rachel Hutchins.”

Kimberly, Antoine, and Andrew excused themselves.

I turned to see a smiling man with long, dark gray hair and a thin goatee to match. He had piercing dark eyes and a lopsided smile.

On the red wallpaper, his name was Emmett Hutchins. He was an ordinary NPC.

Standing next to him, wrapped arm in arm, was a woman named Desiree Hutchins. She had big, blonde hair with brunette roots, bright lipstick, and a smile that was both sincere and infectious. She was dressed like we were in Vegas, with a flashy strapless number.

The way that they held on to each other was endearing. Even without the red wallpaper telling me their shared last name, it would be easy to say that they were in love.

Daphne and I turned to greet them. She was very polite and extended her hand, but she obviously didn’t know who they were, although their last name was a fairly big clue.

She stared at the man and then the woman, and then she acted as if she might remember them.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Don’t tell me… okay, you’ll have to tell me. It’s obviously been a while.”

Desiree and Emmett looked at each other and laughed.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“We hadn’t seen you since you were a chubby little girl,” Emmett said, “and now you’re a grown woman. It’s me, your cousin Emmett.”

“Cousin Emmett,” Daphne said. “It must have been a while if you still remember me as chubby.”

She held my hand tightly.

“Cousin Emmett,” I said, holding out my other hand for him to shake.

He shook back and said, “The lucky groom. Now, no offense, but you must have some real dirt on this woman if you got her to go to the altar with you.”

“If I did, I would never tell,” I said with a laugh.

Did everyone have to point out how out of my league Daphne was?

Everyone laughed, and then Emmett said, “This is my bride, Desiree. You wouldn’t remember her.”

“Well, maybe not, but I certainly will in the future,” Daphne said. She turned to Desiree. “You look breathtaking.”

Desiree wrapped herself in that compliment like it was a warm blanket.

“Oh, you,” she said. She turned to Emmett and said, “I like her.”

We exchanged some small talk as we transitioned from the greeting to a deeper conversation, so that we might figure out what information these NPCs had for us.

“When did we last see each other?” Daphne asked. “I can’t place your face.”

“You would have last seen me at a family get-together, back when my father was still alive. That would be your great-uncle. It must have been fifteen years ago.”

“Wow,” Daphne said. “It has been a while. I don’t feel as bad about not remembering you now.”

“You never had to feel bad,” Emmett said, “especially with your memory problems and all. It was a long shot.”

Memory problems?

“Well, thank you,” Daphne said. “That’s very kind.”

“I’ll tell you, we never thought we’d get to see little Rachel get married, not after you-know-what happened. And when we found out you were having it here in Carousel, we knew we had to come to your wedding. How often do you get to watch a happy ending like that?”

“I never thought I would,” Daphne said. “Well, thank you for coming out, and I’m so sorry about the weather. This storm came out of nowhere.”

“You don’t have to apologize for the weather,” Emmett said. “The weathermen don’t know anything anyway. No way you could have known. I’m just glad you’re having it at a casino, so we have something to do this weekend, when we’re not celebrating, that is.”

“That was the idea,” I said. “I can’t believe I talked her into it.”

“Well, women are one of life’s great mysteries,” Emmett said. “That said, I’m sure you’ll figure her out one of these days.”

He and his wife laughed about that, and after that, the conversation died down.

Off-Screen.

“Memory problems?” I asked Daphne as soon as we were away together.

“Maybe that’s how they’re explaining why I don’t know any of the relatives,” she joked.

“We’re going to have to look into that. Amnesia is a classic murder mystery trope.”

“That’s right,” she responded. “I wonder what it is I’m forgetting.”

“Hopefully not a husband and three kids,” I said.

We laughed.

I held up five fingers, then four, then three. She knew the drill. We were about to go back On-Screen.

And as I stared around the chapel and out into the casino floor itself, I figured out why.

The in-laws were on their way.

On-Screen.

“Mom! Dad!” Daphne screamed as she ran to her parents.

Her father was a tall, thin man, not a day under eighty. He had a kind face, and it lit up when he saw Daphne running toward him. His name was Robert Hutchins on the red wallpaper.

Her mother’s name was Beth, and she appeared to be in terrible condition. She was thin and pale and wore a scarf over her head.

I didn’t have to be a doctor to know that she was dying. It looked like cancer or something similar. Robert was pushing her in a wheelchair, and it looked like she was spending all of her strength to sit up and greet Daphne.

They hugged deep and long, and Daphne was crying.

“I missed you so much,” she said, as she kissed her father on the cheek and bent down to give her mother a similar hug and kiss.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Robert said. He had tears in his eyes. “I never thought I’d get to see the day.”

I walked closer and stood behind them awkwardly.

Luckily, Daphne was there to save me. She turned and said, “This is Riley. He’s the love of my life.”

Aw, shucks.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins,” I said.

They smiled at me warmly. I hugged Beth, and when I went to shake Robert’s hand, he hugged me too.

“So you’re the one we’ve been hearing about,” he said. “Rachel tells me that you’re a poker player.”

“Yes,” I said, expecting him to be judging me for my vocation. “It never made any sense for me to be anything else.”

“Well, if Rachel says you’re her guy, then I’m proud to have you join the family. I’m just happy that you were willing to have the wedding so abruptly.”

“Of course,” I said.

He stared down at his wife, and I figured it out. The reason we were having our wedding at a casino instead of a proper venue was that Beth Hutchins didn’t have long to live.

She coughed gently into a handkerchief.

Daphne bent down to rub her back.

Robert nodded his head toward a deserted section of the casino and said, “Do you mind if we have a man-to-man discussion?”

“Dad, go easy on him,” Daphne said.

“Oh, Robert,” Beth managed to say through her coughing fit.

He dismissed what they were saying with a wave, and I followed him.

When we got out of earshot of anyone at the casino, he turned to me and said, “I wish it hadn’t happened like this, the rushed wedding. The truth is, I always thought I’d have to vet Rachel’s boyfriends before she ever got to marriage. But that’s not the way it worked out. I’m sure she isn’t upset about that.”

He looked over at her and smiled.

“I’m so lucky she ended up as independent as she is,” he added, lingering on the thought.

“That’s one of the things I like about her the most,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “A lot of men, lesser men, want a woman who’s just an extension of themselves. But the best men should marry a woman who’s better than they are.”

He winked.

“I plan to,” I said.

He smiled and nodded. He looked tired. He wasn’t in much better shape than his wife. His white hair was thinning, and his skin was pale.

“The truth is, for years I thought I’d never get to see this weekend come to pass. After Rachel went missing, all hope was gone. My wife and I could never have children of our own, and when we adopted Rachel, I was already an old man. But her mother insisted, she knew that we were supposed to be her parents. And she was right.”

I had no idea what to say.

Rachel, the character that Daphne was playing, had gone missing. That had to have something to do with the memory problems Emmett had been discussing.

“Traditionally, it is the father of the bride who’s supposed to pay for the wedding, and I am humiliated that I was unable to,” Robert went on to say. “I won’t be able to pay you back for that.”

“No,” I said. “I understand completely. I was happy to do it. It is my wedding too.”

He nodded, shame painted on his face.

“I blew my nest egg searching for Rachel all those years, and now with Beth’s treatments, there was just no way I could do it.”

“Robert,” I said, “it’s okay. There’s been a lot of misfortune going around, and if I can help make things better in some small way, I’m happy to do it.”

He nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s not the wedding I dreamed of for her, and it’s certainly not the wedding she dreamed of, I’m sure. But I hope you’re the man she dreamed of.”

I stared at her as she stroked her mother’s hair, and they laughed about something I couldn’t hear.

“Me too,” I said, and I meant it.

I reached out and shook his hand after we were done talking and said, “Let’s go back to them.”

He nodded.

Part of me wanted to continue digging into all that juicy exposition he had just given, but I didn’t want the scene to become any more crowded.

Whatever murder mystery was happening was somehow related to Daphne’s character going missing at some time in the past. There was no way this was just ordinary background info.

Truthfully, I wasn’t used to getting such heavy details in a storyline through plain old conversation. My low effective plot armor saw to that, even with my Moxie. Stumbling upon a big, juicy piece of information was not normal for me.

Which told me that this must have been scripted. Somehow, I had ended up as a main character and was reaping the benefits of that.

I wondered if I would also be scripted for something worse. There was a real possibility that I would be First Blood in this one.

Why else would I be given such a seemingly prominent role?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep