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trees. And mass of people, too. It seemed half of Charleston had chosen this evening to search for the perfect tree. Surely, in this crowd, it would be possible to find a tree and leave without encountering any of Marc’s one-time friends.
    They rounded a corner of the makeshift aisle through the tree display, and she saw that she’d been indulging in a futile hope. Court, pointing at a huge fir, was deep in conversation with a salesman. The man didn’t need to turn for her to recognize him. And judging by the quick inhalation Marc gave, he knew him instantly as well.
    He hesitated, and then he strode forward, holding out his hand. “Phillips. You’re just the person I was hoping to see.”
    Phillips Carmody turned, peering gravely through the glasses that were such a part of his persona that Dinah couldn’t imagine him without them. Then his lean face lit with a smile.
    â€œMarc.” He clasped Marc’s hand eagerly. “How good to see you. It’s been too long.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t have been so long if you’d come to Boston to see us.”
    So Phillips had been welcome to visit, while Annabel’s family had not. Anger pricked her, and she forced it away as she approached the two men and Court, who looked on curiously, the tree forgotten for the moment.
    â€œPhillips can’t leave Charleston,” she said. “The city’s history would collapse without him.”
    She tilted her face up to receive Phillips’s customary peck on the cheek. He always seemed to hesitate, as if remembering that it was no longer appropriate to pat her on the head.
    â€œDinah, dear, you’re here, too.” He focused on Court. “And so you must be Courtney. Annabel’s son.” His voice softened on the words. “I’m Phillips Carmody, one of your father’s oldest friends.”
    Court shook hands. “I’m happy to meet you, sir.” He gave the smile that was so like Annabel’s, and she thought Phillips started a bit. It came as a shock to him, probably, as it had to her.
    â€œHow long are you staying?” Phillips glanced at Marc. “I heard you were putting the house on the market.”
    â€œI see the grapevine is still active.” Marc seemed to relax in Phillips’s company, his smile coming more easily now.
    Dinah felt some of her tension dissipate as the men talked easily. It looked as if her fears had been foolish.
    Marc had handed over a shocking amount of money and they’d negotiated when the tree would be delivered when the interruption came.
    â€œPhillips! What are you doing?”
    Dinah didn’t have to turn to know who was there. Margo Carmody had an unmistakable voice—sugarcoated acid, Annabel had always said. How someone as sweet as Phillips ended up married to a woman like that was one of life’s mysteries.
    Dinah pinned a smile to her face and turned. “Hello, Margo. Are you working the sale as well?”
    Margo ignored her, the breach in etiquette announcing how upset she was. Margo never ignored the niceties of polite society. Except, apparently, when confronted by a man her acid tongue had proclaimed a murderer.
    â€œLook who’s here, my dear.” Nervousness threaded Phillips’s voice. “It’s Marcus. And his son, Courtney.”
    Margo managed to avoid eye contact with both of them. “You’re needed back at the cash desk, Phillips. Come along, now.” She turned and stalked away, leaving an awkward silence behind.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Faint color stained Phillips’s cheeks. “I’m afraid I must go. Perhaps I’ll see you again while you’re here. It was nice to meet you, Court.” He scuttled away before Dinah could give in to the temptation to shake him.
    â€œThat woman gets more obnoxious every year.” She could only hope Court would believe Margo’s actions were motivated by general rudeness and not