If only they could have the wedding here, in this historic house in this historic village, maybe, just maybe, Abigail could work this wedding to their family advantage. It would be untraditional to have it in the groom’s backyard and not the bride’s, but it would be so lovely. She’d have to talk with Bernadette, who would give her the straight scoop on whether a historic house in Connecticut or a godforsaken island in the Aegean was a more desirable location in terms of attention. Her media-savvy son would thank her, no doubt. And wouldn’t a gorgeous wedding photo spread on a well-respected site increase the real estate value of the house? George would have thoughts on that.

In the meantime, she tried to smooth things over with Chase. “I guess a little diversity in the gene pool is a good thing.”

“I know it’s good for politics.”

“What does that mean?”

“Penny’s background and her ties to California will play well with national voters and donors.”

Now it was Abigail’s turn to cock her head. Whose voters? The mayor was foreign-born and terming out; he couldn’t run for president. And he said that being mayor was the only political job he wanted. What was Chase talking about? She handed him the snack pack. “What voters?”

“Mine. But we’ve gotta get going if we’re going to make the train. I’ll explain next time,” he said as he gave her a one-armed hug. “Please tell Penny something nice before we leave. Like, welcome to the family.”

*  *  *

The Blakemans walked the beautiful couple to the door en masse. Abigail realized it was now or never for her gesture, so she pulled Penny into a genuine hug and announced, “We’re delighted about your news.” She released her hostage and added, “Please, call us Abigail and George. You’re family now.” That was a phrase that Abigail had never uttered, nor a sentiment she’d ever felt about anyone but her actual family, and it sounded like a line from a cheesy TV movie. But she supposed that was what people said in situations like this.

“Thank you, Abigail. And you too, George, for the champagne,” her son’s fiancée said. “I can’t wait to be family. Or as we say in Greek, oikogéneia.”

“And a beautiful okeefenokie you’ll be,” George joked, causing the rest of the occupants in the front hall to cringe. Sincerity was really his strong suit, not humor, Abigail thought.

Almost as an afterthought, Sarah asked if she could get a picture for her socials. Abigail echoed the sentiment. Finally, she would have something to post besides pictures of hydrangeas and sunrises and banana bread, her specialty. She could imagine the caption, like she’d seen all her mom friends post: “She said YES!” Of course Penny had said yes to her son, and Abigail wanted the world to know.