“He’s sleeping?”

“He, ah . . . wasn’t feeling well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Cassie. The sarcasm dripped from her words like sauce off barbecued ribs.

“But you can pass any message to me, and I’ll give it to him,” Lu said hastily. She had slid a pillow under Anthony’s head and his cheek was squished against it. He was drooling.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lu. I’m his friend.”

“Anthony doesn’t have friends who are girls.” That seemed like a rule that must be of Cassie’s making, not Anthony’s. Anthony was quite a good friend.

“He does now,” said Lu.

“If he cares,” said Cassie, “please tell him the police found a note.”

“Of course he cares,” snapped Lu. “What did the note say? I mean, if you want me to pass on the message.”

Cassie sighed. “It said, Don’t worry, we went on a little trip.”

“A little trip!” said Lu. “That seems innocuous enough. What a relief. So we don’t need to worry anymore?”

“You never needed to worry, Lu-whoever-you-are,” said Cassie. “Because this doesn’t concern you.”

Chapter 43

JOY

BRIDEZILLA’S MOTHER, LINDA, was wearing the silver Birkenstock Gizeh sandals that every woman over forty on the island seemed to own. She was also wearing a printed maxi skirt with a generous helping of pinks and blues and a knit top that matched the pink of the skirt. All in all, it was a very rosy getup. Something that was not rosy, though, was her expression. Her normally placid face—as innocent, as sweet as a dairy cow’s—looked drawn and anxious. Well, who could blame her? It must be exhausting to be the mother of the bride! Especially that bride. Joy was beginning to hope that if Maggie wanted to get married she might be so kind as to elope and save Joy the trouble. Maggie could wear a funny bride-themed T-shirt and a pair of white Converse high-tops. She could marry a boy or a girl. She could marry anyone, or no one! (As long as she didn’t marry Hugo from the Roving Patisserie.)

“Linda!” said Joy. “Such a nice surprise, to see you in the shop. What can I get you? A coffee? Whoopie pie? Yesterday Maggie and I were experimenting with a double-chocolate fudge flavor, and we have some left over. I can give you a sample if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” said Linda. She sighed as if the very idea of a whoopie pie made her feel weary. “We ate at the Spring House Hotel last night and if you can believe it I am still stuffed to the gills.”

“Ooooh!” said Joy. “I believe it. Their menu is fantastic this summer. What’d you have? Did you try that cod special?”

“I had a little bit of everything,” said Linda. “The rehearsal dinner is there, you know, in the Barn, and we were sampling.” She put a hand over her small pouch of a stomach. “But anyway, I didn’t come to talk about that. I came to apologize.” She pulled out a chair and sat at an empty table.