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behind a wisteria vine at the corner of the house. A light breeze stirred the mostly-golden leaves of the cottonwoods and pulled a few into the air to drift down atop the tent. Gina stood there, talking with Katie and Bob Hutchins and a man who looked vaguely familiar—probably Gina’s current beau.
    At a table inside the tent entrance, Iz stood supervising the guest book and a growing stack of presents. I stifled a small sigh, wishing more people knew the tradition of sending gifts to the couple at home rather than bringing them to the wedding, where the bride and groom would have no chance to deal with them. It was old-fashioned, I knew, but sometimes old fashions make sense.
    As the mariachis began a slow march, Manny turned to Louie. “That’s our cue, man.” They bumped fists, then started for the tent.
    I went in to fetch Nat and Claudia. We paused behind the wisteria until the mariachis struck up “Mexico Lindo y Querido,” which Nat had chosen in preference to the customary march from Lohengrin. One last kiss for luck, and we walked out between the roses and into the tent. Claudia slipped into a seat while I continued down the aisle ahead of Nat.
    Behind Manny, Louie, and the minister, rose bushes bloomed joyously against a taller row of lilacs. We stepped into place, the music ended, and the minister opened his book.
    The service was generic, short and sweet. No elaborate phrases were needed; their delight in each other shone in their faces. It all went perfectly, and festive music accompanied us as we filed out to form the receiving line.
    Loren Jackson and his sister Shelly were among the first. I liked him a lot, but not quite as much as he liked me. He was a counselor, and had helped most of my staff after Vi’s death. He had honored the wedding with a nicely-tailored dark suit and a pastel green tie that matched his eyes. He lit up with a smile as we shook hands.
    “You look wonderful, Ellen!”
    “Thank you. So do both of you.”
    Shelly beamed beneath her pale blue picture hat. “That was a beautiful ceremony,” she said. “Did you help write it?”
    “No, no. They did it themselves.”
    My gaze traveled to the next guest, who was Tony. He looked a bit broody.
    “Tony, have you met Loren Jackson?” I said.
    “We’ve met,” Loren said, turning toward him and smiling. “Good to see you again, Detective.”
    Tony hesitated, then shook the offered hand.
    “And this is Loren’s sister, Shelly,” I added. “This is Tony Aragón.”
    “Hi,” she said, a little wide-eyed. “You’re a detective?”
    “Yeah.” Tony turned to me. “Can I talk to you?”
    “After I’m free here, of course,” I said. The line started moving again, and Loren gave Nat a hug.
    “Is something wrong?” I said softly to Tony.
    He shot another glance at Loren, then stepped closer, still holding my hand. “Why did you invite him?” he muttered.
    “My aunt invited him to her wedding.”
    He didn’t answer, and Gina, who was behind him in line, gave him a flashing smile. “No hogging the maid of honor, Tony.”
    Tony stepped back, and Gina promptly enfolded me in a Chanel-scented hug. Tony had no choice but to move on, taking the hand that Louie held out to him.
    “Got to keep him in line, hon,” Gina whispered in my ear. Aloud, she said, “You remember Rick?”
    I shook hands with her date, a slightly lumberjackish-looking fellow with a dark hair and a nice smile. “Of course.” Turning to Gina, I added, “You look splendid, as usual.”
    She took a slight bow, her calf-length dress of multicolored flowers swirling gently. “Thanks. I expect dancing.”
    “You shall have it,” I promised. “I hope you’re ready, Rick.”
    He grinned. “I’ve been training all week.”
    At last the guests had all been greeted, and the bridal couple followed them into the house to attack the buffet. I hung back to see that Rosa and Mick were moving chairs off the dance floor. Only a few shreds of cloud remained