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This was going to be a great day—Harper’s wedding day—and she wasn’t going to start out with being irritated. She simply drank her coffee and waited, willing herself to be patient.
    Meadow absently spewed some ideas for potential hardy, long-living, stubborn houseplants for Beatrice to try out, and Beatrice nodded along at her. Then Meadow abruptly broke off, took a deep breath as if suddenly remembering the point of why she’d dropped by, and said, “The wedding.”
    Beatrice said encouragingly, “Yes. The wedding. Today.”
    Meadow knit her brows. “You didn’t tell me about the best man.”
    â€œWhat about the best man?”
    Meadow said indignantly, “That he’s been replaced!”
    Ah. Beatrice said slowly, “Actually, I didn’t
know
he was being replaced. But I’m not very surprised.”
    â€œSo you
do
know about it.” Meadow clucked, giving Beatrice a reproachful look.
    â€œAll I really know is there was a scene in a restaurant a couple of weeks ago. Trevor was drinking too much—was incredibly intoxicated—and had some sort of altercation with the man he was eating supper with. The restaurant was on the verge of kicking him out when we managed to get Trevor outside and drive him home. Daniel did say that he wanted to discuss something with Trevor. He must have told him that he couldn’t have him as best man any longer,” said Beatrice.
    â€œSo, Daniel found someone else to step in as best man,” said Meadow, “after Trevor got fired. I guess Trevor can’t come to the wedding now?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know about that. They’re still friends, right? Trevor might be fine as a guest. He just doesn’t need to be in the spotlight—that’s all. And, besides, I think his wife, Eleanor Garber, is also friends with Daniel and Harper. It would be hard to
un-invite
them. I’m sure his wife will be keeping an eye on him.” Beatrice took a sip of her coffee.
    â€œIt sounds as if it could be a real mess,” said Meadow, unconvinced. “And I’m wondering what the deal between Trevor and Lyla is. Did you see them together at the Patchwork Cottage?”
    â€œWhatever the deal is, it looked like Lyla didn’t want anything to do with it,” said Beatrice. Changing course a little, she asked, “What time are you going to the church? Are you on the church setup team or the reception team?”
    â€œDefinitely the reception. I think the church is goingto be decked out as usual, with maybe a nice arrangement and some white bows on the ends of the aisles. But the reception . . . that’s something else,” said Meadow.
    They reflected on this a minute. Then Meadow stood up and walked to the kitchen to rinse out her coffee cup. “Better get to it,” she said briskly.
    *   *   *
    The Forces that Be did not appear to be working in Beatrice’s favor that afternoon. After Meadow left, she did have a relaxing morning, which included taking Noo-noo on a walk. She’d had a healthy lunch with fresh tomatoes, black beans, and feta cheese on spinach leaves. And Beatrice gave herself plenty of time to get ready. This was a good thing, because she ripped the sleeve of the dress she was planning on wearing to the wedding. She quickly found a replacement in the closet, but realized it had some sort of mysterious stain on the hem. Finally, she found a midnight blue, lacy sheath dress with short sleeves and a scalloped hem. Beatrice carefully slipped it on, feeling as if whatever curse she was under might fell yet another garment. The third time was the charm, though.
    The phone rang, and Beatrice—one heel on and one heel off—stumbled to answer it. Wyatt was on the phone. “Would you like me to pick you up? I know I’m going early, but . . .”
    Wyatt sounded as if he might want the company. It
was
his little