Abigail was not prepared to be so intimidated. Alexa did, in fact, carry herself like royalty. She was statuesque, not slender, but her height allowed her to carry the extra weight. Her long black hair, swept up in an elegant bun, was gently streaked with silver and set off her gray eyes. She was a well-preserved sixtyish woman whose skin looked like it had been dipped in olive oil and then polished to a sheen. And she was wearing a long, flowing white silk dress splashed with a bright blue abstract print and shaped by a gold belt. She looked like she was going to a much better event after dinner and it was probably on a yacht.

And the fact that she arrived alone made her entrance more legendary.

After she greeted Penny and Chase and then George, she made her way around the table to Abigail, freshly bobbed and highlighted in her tailored navy-blue Tahari dress that she’d picked up at a very good resale shop in Darien. Alexa did the double kiss, which Abigail was sure was meant to throw her off, and whispered in her ear, “We are family now.”

She smelled like lemons and sunshine and Abigail knew in that moment that everything she had fantasized about the wedding would never come to pass. It would not be at her house in Connecticut with an all-white tablescape featuring hydrangea and rose centerpieces. It would not feature fun New England–y fare like clam chowder bowls and a rowboat full of local beer. She would not be the second-most-striking woman at the wedding, next to Penny, of course. And there would not be a stunning feature of the classic Connecticut event in Aunt B’s column. With one double kiss of Alexa’s lips, Abigail knew that she would do exactly what everyone at the senior center advised her to do as the mother of the groom: wear beige and shut up. “Yes, we are family.”

*  *  *

A cacophony of small talk, laughter, toasts, and dinner orders followed the initial greetings. Questions were asked with inconsequential answers, like how was your flight and how often do you get to New York City. Abigail was having a hard time finding her voice, but George was skilled at these sorts of interactions. There was a reason that he’d kept his job for years, despite the underwhelming results for his clients: his broad but shallow knowledge of all sorts of topics and his erudite cultural references. It was clear that both sides of the table had done their homework. Alexa asked about Sarah and retirement and bridge. But all the chitchat was a warm-up before the main event. Chase had promised that the wedding plan would be revealed at the dinner.