Abigail breathed deeply. She had never liked when men referred to her as Mother, like the elderly pediatrician she’d had when her son was born, but especially this man. He was all talk and charm. She didn’t buy it. As if Chase had neglected his duties because of Penny. What rubbish. She didn’t care if he’d built a billion-dollar business and then executed his office with sky-high approval ratings, she wasn’t impressed. “He doesn’t need my permission anymore. I must go check on the party favors. Excuse me.” And she strode off with purpose, even though party favors didn’t exist. Nuts to go?

Chase and his boss departed and George looked at Simon. “That must be familiar to you. Everything is politics, even an engagement party. Can I interest you in another drink and a sandwich? I’m famished.”

“Yes, please, to both,” Simon said, following his host to the other side of the yard, leaving Penny and Alexa alone.

“What was that?” Penny hissed at her mother.

“You mean Chase and his boss?” Alexa asked. “That does seem rude in the middle of a party.”

“No, you and Chase’s boss. Were you flirting with Timothy Lynch?”

“I’ve never known how to flirt and I’m certainly not starting now.”

“Something was happening there.”

“Maybe he really does love yellow.”

“Mom, he’s Chase’s boss.” Penny said this as if Alexa had an ongoing issue with hitting on men in inappropriate situations when really the opposite was true. Alexa had spent the last thirty years of her life, as long as Penny was alive, purposely avoiding any questionable men or relationships. She was the most discreet woman in town, the Merry Widows always said, much to their dismay. They wanted to live through her sexual adventures, only to be told by Alexa, time and time again, that there was nothing to tell. Even if there was.

“Penny, you know he has a reputation as a charmer. He was doing his politician thing with me. I suppose he thinks women, especially women of a certain age, are desperate for attention. He can’t help himself. But you have nothing to worry about. I’ll never see him again.”

“Mom, who do you think is going to marry us? As in, perform the ceremony?”

“You said it was a surprise.”

“Mayor Lynch is the surprise. He’s coming to the wedding. He insisted. He already has his reservations at the Miramar. Please behave. I can’t have any drama,” Penny said, again as if her mother’s romantic life had been an ongoing soap opera in her daughter’s life instead of an afterthought.