Penny laughed finally. Some of the stress was draining from her voice. “She’s totally the beer type. Thank you, Mom. I appreciate this so, so much. I’m so glad you’re on top of this.”

Alexa was proud of herself. A huge part of her job was mitigating the issues that arose when a group of strangers traveled together to a foreign country, all of them harboring their own (out of control) expectations. De-escalation was her forte. But Penny was so self-sufficient, Alexa rarely had to use her techniques on her. The crisis now over, Penny needed details. “Tell me about your plans. What are you doing? Where are you going? I’m so proud of you. You’re going to smash this.”

*  *  *

“Is everything all right?” Ming asked when Alexa stepped back into the house after her phone call.

“She’s not coming. Penny. She’s not on the plane. She has too much work!”

“Oh, what a shame. You’ve done so much planning and scheduling. All those venues and florists and cake makers. And my cheese platter. You and I can eat it,” Ming said, opening the door of the fridge.

“We’ll need the cheese platter. The mother is coming. And the sister. Just not the bride.”

“What?” Ming said, shutting the fridge again.

“The Blakemans will be here, but Penny will not.” Alexa pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and launched into an explanation. “Remember her client, the boutique hotel in Savannah that she did those special gift boxes for last year? She sent us an extra for the holiday gift exchange?”

“Oh, yes. I picked it! That delicious face oil and the bourbon peach jam. I could have eaten that with a spoon.” Ming, who had a legendary sweet tooth among the Merry Widows, wasn’t lying about the jam. It was that good. But Alexa felt the need to soften the truth of Penny’s situation. Someone in Ming’s tax bracket wouldn’t really understand the financial pressure Penny felt, so Alexa skipped to the details.