With two kids running and screaming, the bride indulging in a crying jag in her mother’s arms, and the MOG fanning herself in the shade, Laurel couldn’t duck out as she’d planned.

Parker handled it—they all handled it, but Parker seemed to be everywhere at once. Urging water on the MOG, iced coffee on the groomsman, herding the kids, and distracting the worried groom.

The MOH—and the mother of the battling siblings—did her best to restore order. But, Laurel thought as she passed out iced tea, the woman was outnumbered.

“Where’s the father?” she muttered to Emma.

“Business trip. Plane was delayed. He’s on his way. I’m going to take the girl, see if I can interest her in making up a quick little nosegay. Maybe you could take the boy—”

“Carter’s the teacher. Carter should do it.”

“He’s got his hands full with the not-quite-drunk groomsman. I think the MOH could use a little break, and maybe she can help the MOB pull the bride together. Mac and Parker can handle the rest.”

“Okay, fine.” Leaving Emma to smooth it over with the mother, Laurel set the iced tea and glasses on the table, then approached the boy. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

It seemed to be an answer he understood, though his brow knit in mutinous lines. He trudged with her, shooting looks that promised revenge at his little sister.

“I don’t wanna wear a tuxshedo.”

“Me, either.”

He snorted, derisively. “Girls don’t wear tuxshedos.”

“They can if they want.” Laurel glanced down at him. About five, she figured, and pretty cute. Or he would be if he wasn’t over-tired, wound up, and sulking. “But tomorrow all the men in the wedding party get to wear them. Wait. Maybe you’re not old enough to wear one.”

“I am, too!” Insult radiated. “I’m five.”

“Whew. That’s a relief,” she said as she walked him down toward the pond. “Because it would really mess everything up if we had to find another ring bearer by tomorrow. They can’t get married without the rings.”

“Why?”

“They just can’t. So if we had to find somebody else, it would really be hard.You’ve got a really important job.”

“More than Tissy?”

Tissy, Laurel interpreted, was the little sister. “Her job’s really important, too. She has a girl job, but you have a guy job. She doesn’t get to wear a tuxedo.”

“Not even if she wants to?”

“Nope, not even. Check it out,” she told him, and pointed at the lily pads. Near the edge one of them served as a float for a fat green frog.

When Del arrived he spotted her down at the pond, near the sweeping fronds of the willow, with her hand in the hand of a little boy with hair as bright and sunny as her own.