Mitsy Fairchild, a Pasadena native who migrated north to Montecito, self-identified as the group’s Emily Post and jumped in. “Yes. Very traditional to do it quickly after the engagement, that way you can keep it simple. It’s a drink, some nibbles. An informal acknowledgment that gives friends and neighbors a chance to meet the bride. Or the groom, depending upon who hosts the party. It’s very flexible these days. And those New Englanders will be checking you out. So wear one of those gorgeous silk dresses you picked up in Athens. You’ll wow them.”

Toots added, “Penny may collect a few small gifts, like monogrammed coasters. But you will be able to gather a lot of intelligence for the wedding planning. About the MOG.”

“The MOG?”

“Mother of the Groom. MOG. And you’re the MOB. Mother of the Bride. You have a lot to learn about American weddings. According to tradition, the MOG is supposed to . . .” And at that point, the Widows chimed in like a Greek chorus: “Wear beige, stand back, and shut up.” Laughter erupted.

“And what am I supposed to do as the MOB?” Alexa asked.

“Call San Ysidro Ranch to book the date and write a blank check,” Ming answered, referring to the local luxury resort. “But as a financial advisor, albeit not yours, please don’t get in over your head.”

San Ysidro Ranch was where Jack and Jackie had honeymooned and where the lucky few held their weddings. Alexa had never been invited to a ceremony there, but she could imagine the classic nineteenth-century California ranch nestled up against the mountains and perfumed in lavender and roses and twinkling in white lights and fairy dust as the ultimate wedding venue. She couldn’t imagine the costs. Truly. Was a wedding there one hundred thousand dollars? Two hundred? A million? Whatever it was, it was out of her league. Alexa sensed Ming was an ally. “Well, I’m hoping I can convince Penny to have the wedding here next summer. Something lovely, personal. Something that I can afford. But still special.”

The more she talked about it, the more Alexa got on board with her own idea. Of course Penny would have the modest wedding of her dreams. Beautiful young people from both coasts would attend. A small cadre of family would come from Greece to represent their heritage. Her dear friend Simon Fox would be her escort for the weekend. A small, select group of her local friends, like the Merry Widows, would add to the party. It would be a joyous, charming, sunny California celebration, admired by guests for its authenticity and good vibes. And with the naivete of a woman who had never fantasized about such an event, never mind planned one, she believed she could produce a simple, personal, affordable wedding in Montecito.