A moment later Regan’s hand was being crushed by the vigorous grasping squeeze of Penelope Atwater. “Your mother’s books have made our travels so pleasant. Lady Exner always buys two copies hardcover. We read them at the same time, and whoever figures out the murderer buys the other one the first sherry of the day. We’d both love to meet Nora Regan Reilly and discuss her plots with her, and where she gets her ideas, and—”

“Ten years ago I told Regan her mother should write my life story. Now it’s that much more interesting. I’ve been gathering my notes and journals,” Veronica said gaily.

Regan, knowing that Lady Exner had written to her mother a couple of times with ideas on how they could novelize her memoirs, decided to ignore the hint. “Tell me about your trips,” she said.

The two women beamed at each other. “Well, we started by going to Spain,” Lady Exner told her. “That was four years ago. It was wonderful. I met so many nice people. They say the English are reserved, but not me.” Her hearty laugh revealed that she had also invested in new dentures.

“The only trouble was that I get so much agida from all the spicy food,” Penelope told her with a mournful sigh.

“And we went to Venice last September for the blessing of the fleet,” Veronica continued. “All my life I wanted to see Venice, and I wasn’t disappointed.”

“The scungilli they served in Saint Mark’s Piazza really set it off,” Penelope informed them.

“Set off what?” Kit asked as she joined the conversation.

“My agida,” Penelope replied forcefully.

Regan got the impression that Penelope Atwater’s agida was a constant topic of conversation during their travels.

“Well, let’s hope your stomach holds out on the Queen Guinevere next week,” Lady Exner said. “Once that ship pulls out of Southampton, that’s it for you for the next five days.”

“The Queen Guinevere?” Regan tried to keep the dismay out of her voice. “You’re sailing next week?”

“On Monday. I’ve always wanted to go to New York, and my cousin’s daughter has been writing to me so much these last few years. I never met her but she seems like such a dear girl. Only forty years old, has had three marriages to men who took advantage of her sweet nature, and is now struggling to raise two daughters alone. She wants us to stay with her and get to know them. And then I hope I can persuade her to come here for dear Philip’s wedding in September and maybe even stay for the year. Her daughters could go to school at Saint Poly-carp’s and they all could live with me. Who knows? They might want to stay forever. We have so little family as it is.”