Amid an elaborate tea service in a paneled room at the Nottingham Forest clubhouse filled with flowers, women, and women dressed in flowers, Alexa finished her walk around the tables to say hello to all the guests. Abigail circled in the opposite direction, stopping to introduce herself to a Montecito-heavy crowd, pointing out her daughter, Sarah, her aunt and three cousins who had made the trip from Simsbury, and her dear friend Bernadette. She received a warm welcome from all, including the Merry Widows. Penny weaved in and out, giving hugs and kisses to the mothers of her high school friends, the shop owners and business associates of Alexa’s, and the other local luminaries who had no place else to be the week between Christmas and New Year’s. The social choreography of all wedding events was complex and exhausting, exacerbated by high heels and shapewear. But the three women performed their roles with enthusiasm and grace.

The Merry Widows had insisted they be allowed to host a mothers’ tea for Alexa and Abigail. Months ago, when the subject came up, Alexa protested that they were already doing so much for the wedding they didn’t need to host another event. But they refused to back down. “We all host so many charity events for people we barely know or hardly like,” Mitsy had said that day. “Let us do something for people we truly enjoy.”

Mitsy explained further, “It’s not a shower. There are no gifts, no games. People come, they chat, they nibble, they meet Abigail, and then they leave. We’d like Penny to make an appearance if she has time, of course, but this tea is for you and Abigail. A chance to relax before the hustle-bustle. It also means one less day of activities you have to schedule for out-of-town guests. The women can come to the tea and the men can play golf or bridge here at the club.” She made it all sound so sensible that Alexa couldn’t say no.

Ming, who loved any opportunity for cucumber sandwiches and mini cheesecakes, jumped in. “We’ll invite the Montecito crowd who aren’t coming to the wedding. If they’re not going to Hawaii or Palm Springs for the holidays, they’ll be so glad to get an invitation to go out during what is normally a dead week that they’ll forget you excluded them from the main event. Now that your family is coming from Greece, your sisters-in-law and your nieces are invited, and Abigail’s friend Bernadette, her family, and those two who did all the flowers at the museum. What were their names again?”

“Lucinda and Martha,” Mitsy said, as if proper New England names were her specialty. “I loved talking to them at the Greek restaurant. We’ve stayed in touch. They’re staying with me. They’re on the flower team for the wedding. They’ve been drying hydrangeas since September.”