“I don’t want to screw up,” I said.

“You won’t. And the big party, the official engagement party,” Bo said, using air quotes, “is tomorrow night. We’re going south of Broad for that one. My mother’s best friend is putting up a tent in her garden.”

“How lovely,” I said, thinking of my mother, back at home, and wishing she were here. She loved garden parties.

“My mother couldn’t turn her down, although she wanted to. The stakes are higher, now, for the actual wedding. We can’t be upstaged by an engagement party!” He said this with mock horror as we took the porch steps, painted a glossy gray.

“Can we get your mother something?” I asked. “For hosting us this weekend?”

“Tulips,” Bo said in front of the door. “Orange. Now, she’s put you on the top floor, so we have some steps. You’ll have to share a room, but it comes with a bathroom. Here, give me your bags. And come on in.”

We entered to find Collette Reed in the flesh, holding court in the foyer. Behind a pair of robust black glasses, her eyes—Bo’s eyes—turned to appraise us, then went back to the young woman standing before her with a notepad and a stressed expression. An assistant, I guessed. She had that posture, and when Judge Reed dismissed her, she scuttled away, her ill-fitting flats hitting her heels.

“The Washington set,” Judge Reed said, extending her hand in a way that made me wish I’d had a chance to wash mine.

“Thank you so much for having us,” I said. And I meant it. There was a gorgeous array of fresh flowers on the console table, hydrangeas the size of pom-poms, pink-and-orange ranunculus blooms, fragrant greenery. Off to one side of the hall, I got a glimpse of a library, rows of bookshelves, and two matching green velvet chaises. Maybe Bo and Wallis would let me sneak off to read. I could just shut the pocket doors, which appeared to be original to the house, curl in one of those fluffy blankets, pluck a Jane Austen from the shelf, and dream the afternoon away. There was something so calming about being a welcomed guest in a well-kept home. I mentally thanked Patricia for her advice.

The assistant returned with water. “Your home is stunning,” I said to the Judge as I accepted a chilled bottle. “We are so grateful to be included in this special weekend.”

“I assume you’re Daisy, and this is Wallis over here?” replied Judge Reed, pointing.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Daisy. My sister—”

“Ma’am. I’m Wallis,” my sister said. There was a moment I thought she might go in for a hug, but she refrained, and I counted my blessings.

“You’re both so young,” Judge Reed said. “From the way Robert talked about you, Daisy, I’d assumed you were older.”