"I don't think I've ever seen a lovelier wedding," she said. "Henry's mother and aunt, God rest their souls, would have been so proud of him today up at that altar. They would have been pleased that he swallowed his gum, too."

Meg Bryan and I smiled at each other. "Would you like some champagne?" I asked.

"That would be lovely. And to tell you the truth, I'd love to have a go at the buffet. Have you seen it yet?"

I shook my head. "We just got here."

"It's unbelievable."

"Henry planned it," I said.

"That's what he told me. I think he's found his niche, don't you?"

I agreed. "You know he's going to be a chef at the Brookwood Country Club, don't you? He'll start as soon as he gets back from his honeymoon."

"And your sister is talking about buying a restaurant and making Henry a partner. Wouldn't that be nice?"

I thought about sweet, imaginative Henry in business with his formidable mother-in-law. "Yes, indeed," I lied through my teeth. "Come on, let's see if we can get to the buffet. I want to see the wedding cakes, too."

Most of the guests were still clustered in the center

of the ballroom, so Meg Bryan and I had an unobstructed view out of the window as we walked by. I spotted Fred on the terrace talking to Lukey (the Minute Man) and Virginia. All of them held out empty champagne glasses for refills as a waiter walked by. I tried to remember if I had put any aspirin in my purse. He'd be looking for some soon.

"Meg Bryan!" a voice hissed loudly. Meg and I both jumped and turned to see a very blond, very elegant-looking middle-aged woman in a yellow suit advancing on us. She was gripping a stick of celery, and from the look on her face, had it been a knife, Meg Bryan would have been in trouble.

"Hello, Camille," Meg said.

"You bitch." The woman thrust the celery at Meg, who automatically reached out and took it. "Stick it!" With that, she turned and stalked toward the door.

"What in the world?" I was so startled, it took me a moment to speak.

"A dissatisfied client. It happens." Meg's face was pink, but she calmly opened her purse and dropped the celery into it. "I always forget that Birmingham is beautiful," she said, looking down at the city and deliberately changing the subject.

"I do, too," I admitted, looking around to see if any more dissatisfied clients were approaching us wielding vegetables.

"It's just so different from South Alabama. The vegetation. Everything."

"You're from Fairhope?" I watched the woman Meg had addressed as Camille disappear through the door.

Meg nodded. "Right on Mobile Bay. Lived there all my life."

"That's beautiful, too."

"Yes, it is. Sometimes I think it's too beautiful. Makes me not want to leave. And I do have to leave to do research. I'm a genealogist."