Hannah raised her eyebrows at her own mother and Jenny shrugged.

  “Not exactly mine, either,” the newcomer muttered.

  Sophia clapped her hands lightly. “As rudely as McKenzie might have put it, it is time we got on with the party. I told Greg and his father to be here at five, and we never want to keep the gentlemen waiting now, do we?”

  “Good heavens no,” Bernie exclaimed. “That would never do.”

  I threw her a furious glare. Bernie mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Sophia issued instructions. “Jenny, dear, you may escort Hannah to the bride’s chair. McKenzie and the other bridesmaid, whatever is her name again? Never mind, they can hand Hannah her presents and clear up the wrapping and other trash. Do remember to keep the cards with the gifts. Hannah will have to send thank-you notes and she needs to keep them straight.” Without waiting for anyone to reply, she clapped her hands, loudly this time. “Ladies, ladies. Your attention, please. Darling Hannah, our blushing bride, would like to open her gifts now.”

  “Diane isn’t here!” Sophia’s mother-in-law yelled.

  “That is not my problem, is it?” Sophia muttered under her breath.

  “Bernie,” I said. “Would you go and round up the guests who’re visiting the gardens, please. I noticed a few heading to the back of the house to see the view.”

  Bernie had donned a knee-length black skirt and plain white blouse as her waitress uniform. She picked up the hems of her skirt in both hands and gave me a little curtsey. “Yes, m’lady.”

  “Might I have read anything your friend has written?” Sophia said as Bernie scurried away on her errand, and Hannah, Jenny, and a scowling McKenzie headed for the bride’s chair. “I’m on the library board of our town, where my husband’s family has always been generous patrons.”

  “Bernadette Murphy,” I said. “Remember the name. You will be hearing it someday.” If she ever gets the blasted book finished.

  “I hope she’s not writing any of that genre stuff. I mean fantasy and murder mysteries and the like. So common.” Sophia sniffed and followed her future daughter-in-law.

  Chapter 2

  I’d prepared pistachio and hazelnut macarons, raspberry tarts, maple pecan squares, and miniature coconut cupcakes for the sweets course, doubling the quantity as the “gentlemen” would be joining us. Everything was ready and laid out in the kitchen to be served when Sophia gave me the nod. As Hannah opened her gifts, and her family and friends cheered and laughed, Marybeth and Cheryl continued moving between the tables, offering to refresh teapots or refill glasses of iced tea or prosecco. Bernie returned from her errand, herding excited women before her. She joined me to stand next to the gate on which a sign had been hung saying: CLOSED TODAY FOR A PRIVATE EVENT. HOPE TO SEE YOU AGAIN SOON.

  I spoke to her in a low voice. “You don’t need to be so out-and-out rude to Sophia Reynolds.”

  “She won’t even notice. That sort are so wrapped up in themselves it would never cross their minds someone isn’t basking in their glow.”

  “She may or may not notice, but I certainly have. You might not like her—”

  “That’s putting it mildly. I’ve run into more than a few of her sort in my day. Male as well as female. Come to think of it, my firm put more than a few of them behind bars. Because it never crossed their minds to think some eagle-eyed young lawyer was not asking all those questions in order to bask in the glow of their cleverness.” She gave me a mischievous grin.

  “Bernie, you’re working here today as a favor to me, and I said I’d pay you for your time. But Marybeth and Cheryl need more than that. They rely on their tips and this is the only group we’ve had in today. You can insult the person paying for it all you want, on your own time, but not here where it could potentially threaten those tips.”

  The smile died. “I wouldn’t want anyone to lose out.”

  “Not to mention it would be nice if Sophia recommends this place to all her friends. She looks to be well-heeled enough, no doubt she mixes with the ladies-who-lunch and country club sets, and I gather they live near Boston. Plenty of Boston-area people vacation on the Cape.”

  Bernie looked genuinely contrite. “I am sorry, Lily. I guess I never thought.”

  “As you so often don’t.”

  She broke into a grin and dug an elbow into my side. “Which is why you love me, right?”

  I didn’t say, “Right.” But she was right. Bernie and I had been friends for a long time, and I sometimes thought we were so close because we were so different. I think things through carefully before acting—sometimes too much. She doesn’t think things through and rushes in where angels fear to tread—sometimes too hastily. She encourages me to take the leap, and I advise her to hold back. Generally, it all works out.

  “I couldn’t help but notice more than a small amount of tension between the mothers,” Bernie said. “Probably natural enough in situations where they both want to be in charge but one’s a lot pushier than the other. Judging by appearances, it looks like there’s a big financial gap between the families, too. Which can’t help.”

  “Financial gap between their invited guests,” I said. “Clearly they’re from opposite sides of the tracks.”

  “The stuff of which romance novels are made. Hey, that might be an idea. Tessa falls in love with Rose’s brother and—”

  “No,” I said. Tessa and Rose (named for my grandmother) were the opposite-side-of-the tracks friends in Bernie’s novel. Bernie was having trouble keeping her attention focused on her main plot, thus my worries that the book would never get finished.

  A blushing and beaming Hannah had been seated on the big chair. McKenzie soon dropped out of her bridesmaid’s duties and found a chair at the far reaches of the patio, leaving another young woman to sort through the gifts prior to presenting the packages to Hannah. Sophia and Jenny stood on either side of the bride, smiling broadly. Jenny’s smile seemed genuine, and she gazed down at her daughter with pride and love. Sophia looked as though she was making the effort and not doing a particularly good job of it.

  Some of the women seated at the edges of the patio had moved their chairs forward and others stood up to get a better view. It was, I thought, easy to tell who was with the groom’s side and who the bride’s. Half of the guests were in perfectly put together designer clothes, either flowing cocktail dresses or pale linen trousers and shirts, many with big sun hats or tiny fascinators. Michael Kors and Kate Spade handbags were tossed over the backs of chairs or resting on tables and Jimmy Choo shoes were under those tables. Diamond tennis bracelets wrapped around thin wrists, and gold earrings glimmered from ears.

  The other half wore mostly nice dresses or white pants with sensible shoes or sandals; a couple of them were in jeans and T-shirts. The accessories didn’t have designer names, the hair wasn’t as expensively cut and colored, the makeup not as perfect, and few had had recent manicures.

  But all the women, with the notable exception of Sophia and McKenzie Reynolds, had one thing in common—they were enjoying themselves enormously and happy to be part of Hannah’s celebration. McKenzie had pulled out her phone and was scrolling idly through it. Her legs were crossed and one shoe dangled from a foot. She had an air of total boredom around her, but I got the feeling she was holding in some barely concealed tension. Afraid, perhaps, her mother would do something to insult Hannah or Jenny. Or even Sophia’s own mother-in-law, who I assumed was McKenzie’s grandmother. The older Mrs. Reynolds was watching the events with a neutral smile on her face and a glass of wine at hand. Contrary to what Sophia had implied, I hadn’t seen her having more to drink than anyone else, and less than some.

  I was in no hurry to get back inside, and was enjoying the warmth of the sun on my head and the fresh salty air on my face. I saw Simon, our gardener, heading our way and gave him a wave.

  “Nice affair,” he said in a low voice. “You should consider doing more of this sort of thing, Lily. Private parties I mean. Might be an idea to add a garden tour as part of the event. Several women were interested in having a chat with me about what I do here.”

  “I bet they were.” Bernie threw me a wink, and I smothered a laugh at the confused expression on Simon’s face. He was six feet tall, his face and arms heavily tanned and well-muscled, his fair hair sun-streaked, the result of a job that involves working outside all day. He was not only young and handsome, but he had an English accent that made some American women swoon.

  Which, I have to confess, made me swoon as well.

  “Here come the rest of them now,” Bernie said.

  A group of men stepped off the veranda of Victoria-on-Sea, my grandmother’s B & B, and headed our way. “Who are they?” Simon asked.

  “The groom and his party. His family’s staying here. I don’t know where the bride and her side are being put up.”

  “Looks like they’ve invited a special guest,” Bernie said.

  My grandmother, Rose Campbell, had her arm linked through that of a smiling young man. She’d dressed for a garden party in a riot of color. Wide-legged black pants with a pattern of huge yellow sunflowers, shockingly purple blouse, green and yellow paisley scarf tied loosely at the neck. Her short steel-gray hair was carefully arranged into spikes and her makeup, as usual, heavily applied. Her pink cane hung loosely from her left arm.

  Several other men accompanied them, all dressed nicely in open-necked shirts, ironed pants, and good shoes. They ranged in age from late twenties to late seventies. The family resemblance between several of them was strong.

  At the gifts table, Hannah was alternately weeping and laughing as she opened her presents, then jumping to her feet to hug the gift-giver and express her appreciation. The gifts weren’t as expensive or over-the-top as I might have expected, but practical, sometimes whimsical, things.

  “Okay,” Bernie said. “The future mother-in-law might be a horror, but the bride’s really nice. They all look so happy. Makes me happy just watching.”

  “What’s wrong with the mother-in-law?” Simon asked. “She admired my plants earlier. I thought she was grand.”

  “I’m sure she was perfectly polite to you,” Bernie said. “But it’s obvious she isn’t too fond of her son’s bride and equally obvious the girl’s mother knows that, although Hannah herself does not. Or, if she does know, it doesn’t bother her.”

  “That’s not obvious at all, Bernie,” I said. “The feeling I get from Sophia is that she’s more than a bit of a control freak and she’s worried about losing control. The detail she went to in planning this shower was incredible, and you have to admit it turned out exceptionally well.”

  “It would have turned out exceptionally well if she’d done nothing but pay, Lily. You know how to make things perfect without anyone’s help.”

  “Shush,” Simon said. “They’re almost here.”

  I plastered on my best professional smile, as Simon swung open the gate. “Welcome,” I said. “I’m Lily Roberts. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

  “We’re early, I know,” the man who’d escorted Rose said, “but I couldn’t wait any longer. I mean, Mrs. Campbell, your house is nice and all, but—”

  “But, when a young man’s thoughts turn to love,” Rose said, “all else is forgotten.”

  He blushed. “I’m Greg Reynolds. This is my dad, Ralph, my brother Ivan, and Dave, who’s going to be my best man at my wedding. The rest of this motley crew don’t need to be introduced.”

  “Greg!” Hannah ran across the patio toward us. Her intended let go of Rose’s arm and swept her up. The couple laughed and kissed. Everyone either smiled indulgently or looked away, embarrassed.

  Everyone except Ralph Reynolds, who threw a look at the bride that was so cold, it had me sucking in a breath.

  Sophia and Jenny, mothers of the couple, joined us. “Glad you could make it, Ralph,” Jenny said. “I hope you didn’t have to cut your golf game short.”

  The words were friendly enough, but there was a bite to her tone.

  “For you, Jenny,”—the smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes—“I’d—”

  Fortunately we didn’t have to hear what he’d do as Sophia interrupted. “None of that now. Lily, Hannah only has a couple more gifts to open and then we’ll be ready to enjoy our desserts.”

  “We’ll start bringing them out,” I said.

  “Can’t wait,” Greg said.

  Hannah grabbed his arm and pulled him, laughing, across the patio. Cheers and applause rang out. A beaming Jenny followed. Sophia and Ralph exchanged a look before they forced their faces into smiles and joined the party.

  I headed back to my kitchen, followed by Bernie and Simon. “Okay,” I said. “You were right. The families hate each other. I’m glad that’s none of our business.”

  “I’m getting Montague and Capulet vibes here,” Bernie said.

  “Never took you for a Shakespearean scholar, Bernie,” Simon said.

  “Don’t have to be an expert to know the basic plot of Romeo and Juliet, and ‘never a story of more woe.’ ”

  “What do you want me to do, Lily?” Simon said.

  “We’ve got this. You go back outside and charm the ladies. Rose will want to show you off. Talk gardening to anyone who wants to.”

  “I’m show-offable?” he said with a boyish grin. “That’s nice to hear.”

  While Hannah opened her gifts, Marybeth had been busy in the kitchen laying the desserts on serving platters and washing the crystal flutes, while Cheryl set the tables with fresh linen napkins and clean dishes and cutlery.

  I gave the display a quick glance, to make sure it all looked perfect. And it did. The little tarts and macarons glowed like precious jewels, the cupcakes were perfectly iced, the shortbread lightly browned to perfection. Marybeth and Cheryl got the chilled champagne bottles out of the fridge.

  “Let’s go, women,” I said. “After you.”

  Bernie and Marybeth carried out dessert platters. Cheryl brought a tray of champagne flutes, and I carried an armful of chilled bottles. We arranged everything on the serving counter and waited until the present opening finished and people resumed their seats.

  Greg had taken his mother’s place next to Hannah. The table in front of them was piled high with an assortment of small gifts, and a snowstorm of colored wrapping paper and bright ribbons covered the ground. Only one present remained to be opened. A box about two feet square, wrapped in pale sliver paper, tied with an enormous silver bow, sparkling in the sunshine.

  Most of the guests had gathered around Hannah. Even McKenzie put her phone away, scrubbed off the oh-so-bored expression, and turned her attention to the bride and groom.

  “We saved the biggest until last,” Hannah said, her smile radiant. “Before we open it, we want to thank you all for your thoughtfulness and kindness, and for remembering that Greg and I asked for small gifts.”

  Greg poked the top of the box. “Small in monetary value, not small in sentiment or, it would appear, in size.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Ralph Reynolds noticed the drinks had come out and started to head in our direction. His wife shot out a hand and jerked him back to his place next to her.

  Rose had taken a seat beside Sophia’s mother-in-law. Regina said something to my grandmother and Rose pointed toward me. I gave her a wave in return.

  Hannah leaned over and fumbled through the bow at the top of the package, searching for the card. “It doesn’t seem to be here. Mom, is there a loose tag somewhere?”

  Jenny swept her eyes across the table. “Don’t see it.”

  “Okay,” Greg said, “’fess up. Who’s this from?”

  Everyone shrugged.

  “A secret admirer,” Ivan, Greg’s brother, called. He was a couple of years older than Greg, not as handsome and not, today at least, as happy.

  “Get on with it,” a woman called. “The champagne’s getting warm.”

  Laughing, Greg and Hannah pulled off the ribbon and tore at the wrapping paper. Together they lifted the top of the box and peered in.

  Hannah pulled sharply back but, failing to notice her reaction, Greg reached into the box, a puzzled look on his face. He lifted out what I first thought was a ball. All around us the laughter began to die. Someone said, “What the—”

  Greg was holding a head by the hair, staring at it in shock and disbelief. Round blue eyes, dots of color on cloth cheeks, a wide smile, masses of curly red hair.

  Hannah leapt to her feet, screaming. She kicked wildly at the box and it toppled over. The rest of the doll tumbled out. Headless.

  Chapter 3

  Greg threw the head aside in shock. It bounced on the flagstone floor, rolled twice, and came to a stop face up, staring into the sky. The woman at the chair next to it screamed and tripped in her haste to get away. She clutched at the tablecloth and, to my horror, my lovely dishes began to slide toward the edge of the table. Disaster would have struck had not her quick-witted table companion wrenched the tablecloth out of her hands and stopped its descent.

  All over the patio, chairs were pushed back and people leapt to their feet with cries of “What’s happening?” and “What’s that?”

  McKenzie pushed her way through the crowd to get a closer look.

  My first instinct was to check on Rose. I looked across the patio to see that she’d placed a hand lightly on Greg’s grandmother’s arm. She saw me watching and gave me a nod, saying all was okay there.

  While I was visually checking on my own grandmother, Bernie and Simon darted past me. Bernie whipped off her apron as she moved and used it to scoop up the doll’s head and fold it into a bundle. Simon grabbed the body and shoved it back into its box. Bernie threw the head in after it, and Simon closed the flaps.

  It had been, I realized, a traditional-looking Raggedy Ann doll.

  Jenny, her face pale with shock, was leading a weeping Hannah away. Greg recovered his senses and hurried after them. The bridesmaid was frozen in place, her eyes darting everywhere in confusion. The noise was deafening as everyone began to speak at once. Marybeth and Cheryl stood by the serving counter, unsure of what to do. I held a hand up, palm out, telling them to remain where they were.