“Thanks, but I can’t do that; I’m sorry,” said Tom. “I’ll be attending a wedding this weekend as well. Later today, after I drop you off, I have to pick up my old tux from the dry cleaner.”

“Are you getting married? No kidding?”

“Not me. The tux is for the groom, a friend of mine.”

“I suppose a tux doesn’t go out of style.”

“This one’s in great shape. Retro is what people are buying today anyway. I wore it to my own wedding in 1963. I found every item separately at the Sally Ann and put it all together as a match. I always loved a bargain, still do. My friend Allam—he’s the groom—came over to the house to try it on, and it fits perfectly. Twenty dollars is what I paid, and the outfit gets two men through their wedding celebrations. Not so shabby.”

“Not shabby at all.”

“Well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” Tom was laughing. “If Allam wants to pass on the tux—and the story—to some young guy someday, it might even make it to a third wedding.”

“I hope this couple has a ring,” Dave said. “Did you read about the woman in Alberta who lost her diamond ring while she was weeding her garden? The ring stayed in the ground for fifteen years, and one day someone went out to pull up vegetables for dinner and there it was, wrapped around a carrot. The carrot had grown right through the centre of the ring. Diamond still in place; ring okay. The woman who lost it was in her eighties when she finally got it back. I love stories like that. You wonder if you should believe them. I believe this one because I saw a bunch of photos on the internet.”

“I did read about that,” said Tom. “As for Allam, he told me he has a gold ring for the bride.”

“That’s good. I guess the weather will cooperate, too,” Dave said. “We’ll be out in the gardens around the back of the Haven if it’s warm enough. The flower beds are kept up pretty well. We have our own gardener, and some of the inmates pitch in. Tulips are up. Daffodils are up. Seeds and plants will be going into the vegetable plot soon. There aren’t any diamonds in the soil, far as I know.”

Tom dropped Dave off at the health centre in Greenley and went off to find himself a coffee. He knew Dave’s appointment wouldn’t take long. A checkup and blood work, probably. And then the trip back to Wilna Creek.

CASS AND HAZZLEY were in the café kitchen.

“Beat the eggs,” said Cass. “I want them thick. Pass them over, and I’ll put in the sugar. You measure out the flour.”

“You’re tough,” Hazzley told her. “But you make good cakes. That’s why I’m putting up with being bossed around.”

“Won’t hurt you for a couple of hours.” Cass was laughing while she eyed the whiskey, specially ordered from Cornwall for the occasion. That was Rice’s idea, and a good one. By now everyone knew that Gwen and Allam would be travelling to Cornwall in early June, to visit the historic land of the legendary King Arthur. They would tour around different parts of Cornwall, not only the area where Tintagel Castle had been built so long ago.