Ariel walked over to Emma and kissed her cheek. “Darling, you look wonderful. That red is perfect on you. Just perfect.”

“This was a grand idea, Mama. Thank you for doing this. Who is the caterer? I’m getting compliments on the food. Not nearly as many comments as I’m getting on my dress, but still.”

Ariel winked and turned Emma so that she faced the patio doors across the pool. “That, sugar, is my biggest gift to you this evening.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wait. Watch. I’ll show you.”

Emma didn’t understand, but she laughed with anticipation. “Mama, what did you do? Did you buy me something?”

“In a sense,” Ariel said mysteriously.

“Mama, what is it? Tell me, tell me!”

The pitch of Emma’s voice made Hunter John turn away from his conversation with some of his friends. “What’s the matter, Emma?”

Emma grabbed Hunter John’s hand and pulled him toward her. “Mama bought me a gift and won’t tell me what it is.”

“Ah, there it is,” Ariel said, pointing with a glass of champagne in her hand.

“What?” Emma said excitedly. “Where?” Emma’s eyes focused on two women coming out of the house, carrying trays. They were servers, obviously. She was just about to look away to find where her real gift was when she realized who one of the servers was. “Is that Claire Waverley? You hired her to cater my party?” It suddenly occurred to her in one terrible moment what her mother had done, and her eyes darted to the other woman with Claire. “Oh, my God.”

“Is that Sydney Waverley?” Hunter John asked. He disengaged his hand from Emma’s and left her standing there. He just left, walking toward Sydney as if he’d been roped.

Emma rounded on her mother. “Mama, what have you done?”

Ariel leaned in close and hissed, “Stop being a fool and go over there. Make people look at her. Make all her old friends look at her.”

“I can’t believe you did this.”

“She’s back, and you need to take control. Show her she doesn’t belong here, that there’s no chance of getting what she had back. And show your husband that you’re better than she is. That you always were. You’re the belle of the ball, and she’s just the caterer. Now go.”

It was the longest walk Emma had ever taken. Hunter John had already made his way over to Sydney and was staring at her while she arranged the new trays on the buffet tables. She hadn’t looked up yet. Was she acting like she didn’t know he was there? Was she just being coy? She was thinner and she looked older, but her face was still luminous and her hair was cut expertly. She always had the best hair. She never had to dye it or curl it like Emma had been doing since she was twelve.

Emma had nearly reached him when Hunter John finally cleared his throat and said, “Sydney Waverley, is that you?”