To Jacob’s right sat the sisters; pretty, different, close. They were whispering together in the corner, shooting him suspicious looks. The one with the blue glasses looked particularly murderous. The one with the purple hair seemed dispassionately curious, like a scientist who would dissect him if she thought it worth her while.

And then there was the grandmother, and the other older lady who seemed to be her partner. They were the only ones who weren’t pointedly ignoring him. Jacob rather wished they would.

“So,” the grandmother said. She was wearing enormous sunglasses and, unlike the mother, hadn’t bothered to remove them indoors. “You own this place, do you, darling?”

“I do, madam.”

“Oh, darling. How sweet. Did you hear that, Shivani? But no, no, you must call me Gigi. And this is my darling Shivani, and over there is Joy, having an embolism, and that is Martin, having a quieter embolism, and huddled in the corner like a pair of witches are Chloe and Danika. There, now, we’re all introduced and terribly intimate.” Gigi smiled beautifully, all white teeth and fine-boned beauty, before producing a cigarette from . . . somewhere. Jacob must have missed the source. “Can I smoke, darling?”

“I’d rather you—”

She held it to her lips, and then the other woman—Shivani—produced a box of matches, and the cigarette was chivalrously lit, and it was all very Hollywood.

“Times of great stress require it,” Gigi told him conspiratorially. “But really, I quit in ’79. Now, then. What was your name?”

“Erm,” he said, “Jacob.”

“Fabulous, fabulous.” She took a deep drag. “Jacob, sweetheart, are you in any way mistreating my little dumpling of a granddaughter?”

In the corner, Joy stiffened. “Gigi.”

Meanwhile, Shivani—a middle-aged woman with a waterfall of black-and-silver hair—rolled her eyes. “Oh, Garnet. You ham-handed battering ram.”

“You say the sweetest things, dear.”

At which point, Jacob managed to gather the wits that question had knocked out of him. “Am I what?”

“Well,” Gigi said after another dragonlike exhalation, “I was dragged up here on the belief that my dear little muffin had gotten herself into some sort of trouble, or at the very least fallen in thrall to an unsuitable sort. Yet here we are, and you seem a perfectly reasonable man, and Eve—well, I could be confused, but I do believe Eve has dumped us all here to wait for her while she serves cake to strangers. Which suggests to me, darling, correct me if I’m wrong, that she simply works here, as opposed to anything more sinister.”

“It’s—it’s—it’s high tea,” Jacob managed. Sinister? Why in God’s name would anyone suspect something sinister? He was about to ask as much when Eve appeared in the doorway and beat him to it.

“What on earth are you talking about, Gigi?” she asked, and he practically fainted with relief at the sight of her. Because Jacob knew exactly how he would behave if any other group of posh, smoking arseholes appeared at his B&B and started looking around like he had something to hide, asking rude questions and generally making nuisances of themselves; he would shout a bit and curse a bit and throw them out on their arses.