And Ming seemed to be enjoying her status as Sarah’s confidant. “He runs a lab at UCSB. Works on diabetes research. I’m going to do some follow-up,” Ming announced, then seeing Abigail’s questioning face, she explained. “We have an informal investment club. We love biotech. I want to see if there are investment opportunities there, that’s all. He seemed like a fine young man.”

The whole crew laughed. And then filed away the information because Ming had made them all a few bucks in the past with her tips.

After a round of refills, they settled into their chairs on the courtyard patio that overlooked the pool, surrounded by more lavender and olive trees, a view no one ever tired of. Toots, who looked festive that evening in a kelly-green beaded caftan, patted Abigail’s hand. “If you have time, you must come back one morning for a proper tour of the gardens. I understand you’re quite the gardener. Mornings are perfect for a stroll.” And then she looked straight at Alexa. “I know, gardens aren’t your thing. You can take a swim in the pool while Abigail and I wander.”

“We may have another whole round of venue visits,” Alexa said, and then went on to describe the disappointing day while the Widows expressed sympathy.

It was Mitsy who spoke up first, as she often did, confident that her opinion was the correct opinion. “We can’t let our Penny get married in that women’s club. She deserves so much better. Remember that rainy day in London when she managed to get us into tea at the Goring and then have Tina Brown join us to dish about Diana? All at the last minute? We owe her.” Mitsy was a royals enthusiast. She was drawn to anyone in a crown and had run into Montecito’s own British royalty at Lost Horizon Bookstore one afternoon. The encounter gave her dinner party material for a year. Alexa didn’t have the heart to add there was a substantial tip to the staff at the Goring and the promise of a beach rental in Montecito for Ms. Brown for an hour of her time. It had been a highlight of the trip, and the Widows assumed Penny had created the moment out of thin air and magic.

“Or the time in Pompeii when she secured that handsome Italian archaeologist to tour us around and then he insisted we go to dinner at his grandmother’s house afterward? Wasn’t that the most charming evening?” Roxanne added. The others nodded, amused. No one had the audacity to remind Roxanne that it was only she who had enjoyed the archaeologist’s private attention that night. They were a loyal bunch.