Wolfe followed him up the aisle to the second row, careful not to tear the flimsy material dotted with rose petals on the way. “I find it’s difficult to get to the knife in my boot when I’m dressed up, but Dana said I can take the jacket off after the wedding.”

Mitch took the second seat and left the aisle seat for Wolfe. “You have a knife in your boot?” His bushy eyebrows rose, and the smile lines near his eyes crinkled in his weathered face.

“Yeah.” Wolfe settled into the seat, which was a little too small. “Don’t you?”

Mitch grinned. “Buddy, I have four beautiful daughters. Believe me, I always have a knife close by.”

Wolfe matched his smile.

Mitch reached into his jacket pocket. “Did anyone find you a bingo card?” he whispered.

Wolfe shook his head.

Mitch handed over a square sheet of paper. “I have an extra, but don’t let anybody see it, especially my wife. Winner gets the pot.” He paused. “Oh. Give me twenty dollars.”

Wolfe handed over a twenty, which quickly disappeared in Mitch’s right pocket. Then he looked at the squares on his paper. “Ah. So I cross off what I see.” Was this what families did at weddings? He hadn’t seen a purple hat, someone’s Spanx, or a flask yet. He read more. “What is a jortz?”

“Jean shorts on a man,” Mitch whispered. “We have a couple of cousins that’ll give you that square if they make it here.”

“Not sure I want to see that.” Wolfe tucked the bingo card away in his pocket, oddly touched to take part in the family bingo game.

“You fish?” Mitch asked.

Wolfe rubbed his now smoothly shaven chin. “I haven’t but think I’d like it. I mean, if there weren’t a bunch of people around also fishing.”

Mitch nodded. “Exactly. A man fishes to commune with nature, not neighbors. We should go sometime.”

A pang hit Wolfe dead center in the chest. “I’d like that.” Chances weren’t great, but who knew? Maybe he would live to learn how to fish. “Thanks for the thought.” His voice had become gruff for some reason.

“Do you have ‘flask’ as one of your squares?” Mitch asked.

Wolfe nodded.

“Then I’ll help you out.” Mitch took a dinged metal flask from his other inside pocket, twisted off the cap, and tipped back a drink before handing it to Wolfe.

Wolfe was done taking drinks from anybody he didn’t know, but Dana’s dad had to be all right. He took a hit and let the pure Irish whiskey warm his body. “Thanks.” He handed it back.

“You bet.” Mitch scrambled to hide the flask as his wife moved down the opposite end of the aisle, waving and smiling at women in summer dresses and men in light suits before finally taking her seat.