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When they were safely out of earshot, An’gel said, “Poor Mireille. She has a tough situation on her hands.”

Dickce snorted. “It’s her own fault for putting up with that woman all these years. I’m surprised someone hasn’t batted Estelle over the head long before now. She’s tiresome and difficult.”

Benjy extended his arm for An’gel and then for Dickce to grasp as they navigated some exposed tree roots on their path. “Mrs. Champlain seems like a nice lady. I hated to see her looking so uncomfortable because of that weird housekeeper.”

“There’s no easy solution to the problem.” An’gel’s tone was grim. “Estelle is sure to have conniptions if Mireille fires her, and Sondra will probably have the lulu of all tantrums if her grandmother doesn’t get rid of Estelle.”

“They could just put a muzzle on Sondra.” Benjy laughed. “I’m surprised no one’s clunked
her
over the head, honestly.”

“A few good spankings at the right age, or lots of time-outs when she was little, would have done that girl a world of good,” Dickce said. “Her daddy spoiled her rotten, and by the time he died, the damage was done. Neither Mireille nor Jacqueline, I hate to say, has ever had enough spine to deal with the girl.”

An’gel was relieved when they reached the lights surrounding the cottages and turned off her flashlight with gratitude. Earlier she had simply made a polite remark to put an end to a tense situation, but now that she was close to her bed, she did feel tired. All that emotion was exhausting, even if one was only forced to witness it.

Dickce unlocked their door as An’gel turned to Benjy. “I’m sorry you had to see all that. I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable.”

Benjy shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I used to see stuff like that all the time.”

An’gel knew he was talking about his life with his parents and his stepfather’s mother, their old friend Rosabelle Sultan, and felt even guiltier. She patted his shoulder. “This will soon be over, and we can head back to Riverhill and forget about all this drama.”

Benjy laughed. “I’m looking forward to getting home. Good night, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce. I’m going to walk Peanut again in a while, but we’ll be settling in for the night soon.” He gave each of them a quick peck on the cheek before unlocking his own door and disappearing inside.

An’gel could hear the excited woofing noises from
Peanut next door upon seeing Benjy as she followed Dickce into their cottage.

“What a dear, sweet boy he is,” Dickce said. “Thank the Lord he’s nothing like Sondra or her loopy fiancé. You should have seen the way Lance was staring at Benjy all during that fiasco of a meal. Sondra, too, come to think of it.”

An’gel dropped wearily onto the plush sofa and kicked off her pumps. “We should probably have let Benjy stay at Riverhill with Endora and Peanut. I’m sure they would have been happier.”

“What’s done is done.” Dickce stepped out of her shoes and bent to pick them up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get ready for bed. This day has been overwhelming. Good night.” She disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.

An’gel called
good night
after her sister. She remained on the sofa, lacking for the moment the energy to get up and go to her own room. Her thoughts focused on the dinner party and its seething undercurrents. There had seemed an unpleasant undertone to the whole evening. From Horace’s occasional vulgarities to Sondra’s rude behavior before and during the meal and the ugliness of the scene with Estelle, the whole occasion had been the fiasco Dickce said it was.

They were due back at Willowbank in the morning for breakfast at seven thirty. An’gel wondered whether she, Dickce, and Benjy would be subjected to further drama. Rather bleakly, she laughed.
Probably not a question of “if” but of how much
. With that unpleasant thought, she pushed herself up from the sofa, picked up her shoes, and went to her bedroom.

An’gel slept soundly that night and woke to her travel clock alarm at six thirty. She yawned and pushed aside the covers. The bed was comfortable, and she felt reluctant to leave it. Duty called, however. She couldn’t put off getting ready for the day and whatever it entailed.

From the bathroom window she peered outside. The sun wouldn’t rise for about half an hour yet, and she hoped the storm that Estelle forecast would not come through until after the wedding. Bad weather would simply make already worn nerves more ragged.

An’gel admonished herself to shake off morbid thoughts. She focused instead on her bath and toilette. By the time she emerged from her bedroom, dressed in a casual, colorful linen print dress and flats, she felt more sanguine. The smell of hot coffee that wafted toward her cheered her even further. She traced the smell to the tiny kitchenette tucked away in a corner of the cottage near the front door. She found Dickce seated at a small banquette, cup in hand.

“Sister, thank you for making the coffee.” An’gel poured herself a cup, added a little cream and sugar, stirred, and sipped happily.

Dickce grimaced. “I don’t know about you, but I definitely had to have some caffeine before we walk into who-knows-what up at the big house.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” An’gel took the seat opposite. She peered out the small window above the banquette table. The sun should have been visible by now, but everything still looked murky. “Looks like the weather isn’t going to cooperate.”

Dickce shivered. “I got chills last night while Richmond
Thurston was telling that story. Imagine a gust of wind being able to suck a woman out of a window like that.”

“I’d rather not imagine it,” An’gel said. “There was one detail in what Estelle said that I find puzzling. How did she know the date of that poor girl’s wedding? Was it really the same as Sondra’s? Or was she just making it up to get at Sondra?”

“That is peculiar,” Dickce said. “I didn’t catch on to that.” She shrugged. “I vote for Estelle to be making it up. It’s the kind of thing she would do simply to aggravate Sondra
and
Jacqueline.”

“Unless she has an unimpeachable source for the truth of that story, I’m sure she did make it up.” An’gel nodded firmly to emphasize her point. “If we’re lucky, Estelle will be gone when we go up for breakfast.”

“Though who’s going to cook if she
is
gone, I wonder.” Dickce took a sip of coffee. “I don’t think Mireille is much of a cook. Perhaps Jacqueline is, though.”

“If nothing else, we can have a French country breakfast, like the ones we had in that
pension
in Paris, remember? That lovely, crusty French bread, with butter and jam, and the bowls of milky coffee. I’d never had coffee from a bowl before.”

Dickce laughed. “I remember the look on your face when you realized you had to drink out of a bowl. Priceless.”

“Yes, well, I got used to it,” An’gel muttered. She drained her cup and got up to rinse it out in the sink. “We still have about twenty minutes before we’re due for breakfast. I think I’ll retrieve our umbrellas from the car, just in case.”

“Good idea,” Dickce said. “I’ll clean up in here while you do that.”

An’gel could tell, by the feeling of pressure in her head, that the weather was changing. She stepped outside, and the dark gray sky and slight chill in the air confirmed it. She hurried to the car, the wind rising around her, and dug around in the back of the Lexus for their umbrellas. They had managed to forget any other rain gear, so the umbrellas would have to suffice.

Rain began sprinkling down before An’gel made it back inside. “This day is going to try my patience,” she muttered to herself as she shut the door behind her. “It’s starting to rain,” she called out to her sister.

“Wonderful,” Dickce replied as she came out of her bedroom. “And we forgot to bring our raincoats. At least we have the umbrellas.”

A knock sounded on their door, and An’gel propped their umbrellas beside a nearby occasional table before she answered.

To her surprise, Jacqueline stood there, damp from the rain.

“Come in, dear,” An’gel said. “You’ll get soaked.” She hurried her goddaughter inside and shut the door.

“Thank you,
Tante
An’gel.” Jacqueline shivered. “The temperature is dropping, and I didn’t think to bring a jacket or an umbrella with me.”

“Come in and sit down,” Dickce said. “I’ll get you a blanket if you’d like.”

Jacqueline shook her head as she sat on the sofa. “No, thank you, I’ll be fine.” She paused for a deep breath. “I’m sorry to bother you with this, and I can’t believe I’m doing it.”

“Doing what, dear?” An’gel asked when Jacqueline failed to continue. She sat beside her goddaughter and patted her shoulder. Jacqueline now had a wretched expression, and An’gel grew alarmed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

“It’s Horace,” Jacqueline said, barely above a whisper. She stared down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “He promised me the money would be there, but it isn’t, and now I can’t pay the florist for Sondra’s bridal bouquet and the rest of the flowers.”

CHAPTER 8

O
ver Jacqueline’s bowed head, An’gel and Dickce exchanged startled glances. Horace Mims was reputedly worth millions, but he didn’t have the money to pay the florist for his stepdaughter’s wedding?

“That’s certainly unfortunate,” An’gel said.

Dickce sat on the other side of Jacqueline and patted her on the back. “What can we do to help?”

“I’m so embarrassed by all this, you cannot believe how much,” Jacqueline said, still gazing at her hands. “I don’t dare tell
Maman
about Horace’s little cash flow problem, as he calls it. It’s only temporary, he says, but it couldn’t happen at a worse time.”

“These things happen in business from time to time,” Dickce said, “or so I imagine.” She raised her eyebrows in An’gel’s direction, and An’gel gave a tiny shrug in return.

“We’ll be happy to lend you the money, Jacqueline,” An’gel
said in a bracing tone. “I’m sure Horace will get his affairs sorted out quickly. Tell me how much you need, and we’ll take care of it.”

Jacqueline raised her head, and An’gel was dismayed to see that she had been crying. “Thank you,
Tante
An’gel,
Tante
Dickce, I can’t tell you how much this means to me, and to Sondra and
Maman
, of course, although I’ll never let either of them know anything about it.”

“We’ll keep this to ourselves,” Dickce promised. “Tell An’gel how much you need, and she’ll write you a check.”

“Two thousand dollars,” Jacqueline said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if I don’t get the money to the florist today, there won’t be any flowers for the wedding.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” An’gel said. “I’ll get my checkbook, and we’ll take care of this right now.” She patted Jacqueline’s arm before she rose from the sofa.

“Let me get you some tissues,” Dickce said. Jacqueline was sniffling, and her face was turning blotchy from crying. Dickce got up and went to the bathroom in search of the tissues.

An’gel came back with checkbook and pen in hand and resumed her seat next to her goddaughter. “Would you like me to make it to you, or to the florist?”

“To the florist would be fine.” Jacqueline supplied the name. “Thank you,
Tante
An’gel.”

Dickce returned with the tissues and handed them over. Jacqueline smiled her thanks and began dabbing at her eyes. She accepted the check from An’gel with a slightly watery smile.

An’gel glanced at Dickce, as if asking her sister a question. Dickce nodded, and An’gel spoke in a brisk tone to her
goddaughter. “I tell you what, my dear. Why don’t you let this be one of our wedding gifts? It would be our pleasure.”

Jacqueline’s face reddened, and she didn’t speak for a moment. “You’re being far too generous, but I thank you. You’ll never know how much.”

For a moment An’gel thought her goddaughter was about to burst into tears, but Jacqueline collected herself. She thanked the sisters again as she folded the check and tucked it into the pocket of her pants.

“I’d better get back.” Jacqueline rose. “
Maman
will be wondering where I am. You’ll be coming up for breakfast soon?”

“Yes,” An’gel said, “and if there’s anything we can help with this morning, do let us know.”

Dickce echoed her sister’s words, and Jacqueline thanked them. “I think we have everything under control. Estelle is still here, so it’s breakfast as usual.”

“Is Mireille going to fire her?” An’gel asked.

Jacqueline shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. After Estelle’s behavior last night and Sondra’s ultimatum, I thought she’d be gone this morning. But there she is in the kitchen as if nothing happened. I tried to talk to
Maman
last night about Estelle, but she told me she would take care of everything in her own way and not to pester her about it.”

An’gel wasn’t surprised. Mireille could be stubborn, and her loyalty to Estelle, though puzzling to everyone else, might turn out to be more important to her than having her granddaughter follow family tradition in wearing the antique wedding gown. An’gel had no doubt Sondra
would follow through on her threat not to wear the gown when she saw Estelle still in the house.

“I’m sure Mireille will do what she thinks is best for everyone,” An’gel said with a confidence she was far from feeling in her cousin.

“Two more days, and this will all be over.” Jacqueline sounded weary, An’gel thought. “I’ll see you up at the house in a bit.”

Dickce showed her out. She leaned back against the closed door and regarded her sister. “Horace must be having serious problems if he can’t come up with two thousand dollars to pay for the florist.”

An’gel nodded, her tone grim when she spoke. “Definitely. I’m concerned about Jacqueline. She has money of her own from Terence’s estate and should have been able to pay the florist herself. The fact that she had to come to us for money is deeply troubling.”

Dickce returned to her place on the sofa near An’gel. “I had forgotten that. I hope Horace hasn’t squandered Jacqueline’s inheritance.”

“I don’t remember the terms exactly, but I
thought
Jacqueline had only the income from a trust for her lifetime,” An’gel said.