“Not at all.” Guns didn’t bother me. Not unless they were pointed at people—especially people I loved. “Must be the heat.” I waved the warm, humid air away from my face.

Her wrinkled forehead said she remained unconvinced of my wellness. “May I get you a glass of water?”

“I’ll get it.” The caterer who’d been introduced as Misty, gave me a kind smile, then fetched me a glass. “How’s dinner?”

“Marvelous,” said Liz.

Mel nodded her agreement. “Best potato salad I’ve ever had.” She heaped another spoonful onto her plate. “What’s for dessert?”

Misty, who was in her twenties and had a figure that suggest she never ate sweets, replied, “Your choice, watermelon, popsicles, or pineapple upside-down cake.”

“Graham's favorite.” Sumner pursed her lips as if she disapproved of dessert.

Merit, whose plate was empty, waved a single finger. “Excuse me, I don’t eat fried food, or anything with dairy, or cane sugar, or wheat. What else do you have?”

Merit was a woman with a great mind. She plumbed the depths. Her understanding of physics and philosophy and philately were profound, but did she ever let loose and have fun? Fun that did not include equations, Kant or a single stamp. Fun that did include delicious fried chicken, laughter with her friends, and pineapple upside-down cake.

“No asking Misty for special orders,” Willa declared.

We stared at her. Willa never put her foot down.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “Catering for a group this large is hard enough. If you won’t eat meat, try the vegetables. Then, have watermelon for dessert.”

Merit sniffed but added tomatoes and cucumber slices to her plate.

I took a sip of cool water and caught Anarchy's eye. Was he bored? Annoyed that I’d insisted we come? Enjoying himself?

He waved a chicken leg my way and grinned, and my shoulders relaxed.

“Ellison.” Buffy caught my attention. “Are you traveling this summer?”

“We’re just back from our honeymoon.” We’d spent glorious weeks in Italy. Just the two of us.

“Surely, you’re taking Grace on a trip. Have you visited Anarchy’s family?”

Take my daughter to see Anarchy’s parents? I’d do that right after I pinned paper wings to a pig and taught it to fly.

“I met his mother at your wedding reception. Doesn’t she live in San Francisco?”

“Palo Alto. What about you? What are your travel plans for the summer?”

“We’re splitting time between Colorado and Michigan.”

“Mountains and a big lake?”

“Exactly. Although Bill will travel to and from Kansas City often.” She frowned as if she worried that he’d find a girlfriend in her absence. “He’ll be home alone. Might I prevail upon you to ask him for dinner a few times?”

I was newly, blissfully married and could have no interest in her husband. “We’d be delighted.”