Joy’s stomach dipped and flipped. “Apologize? For what?”

Linda sucked in her cheeks and looked down at the floor.

“For what?” repeated Joy. “Linda. Apologize for what?”

“Kimberly had a change of heart,” Linda whispered to the floor.

“A change of heart?” Joy repeated. “You mean, she and Michael aren’t getting married?” It was more likely, in Joy’s opinion, that Michael had had a change of heart. And who could blame him? Even so, this couldn’t mean . . . could it? Joy had so much riding on this wedding! No, this wedding couldn’t be off.

“Oh, nothing like that,” said Linda. Joy allowed herself to exhale. “Although how Michael puts up with that daughter of mine day after day I will never know. He is really and truly a saint. I keep telling her, Someday, Kimberly, your collagen will be gone and you’ll put on a little bit of weight and you will not be able to act like this. But she doesn’t listen. Who am I? Only the woman who changed every one of her diapers. Who held her while she cried when those awful girls in seventh grade were so mean to her.”

“Seventh grade can be difficult,” said Joy. She made sure she sounded sympathetic, although she was getting increasingly anxious. If the wedding wasn’t off, what was the apology for?

“She didn’t even go to the seventh-grade dance, you know! It was awful, we stayed home and watched 50 First Dates on the television.” Linda paused. “Such a silly movie.” (Joy didn’t concur; 50 First Dates was no When Harry Met Sally, but certainly it was watchable.) “Anyway . . .” said Linda. She tapped her fingers on the table.

“Linda?” said Joy. A very bad feeling was blooming inside her. “What’d she change her mind about?”

“The whoopie pies!” said Linda. She threw her hands into the air. “Can you believe it? She doesn’t want them anymore, for the wedding. She wants to get those macarons from the Roving Patisserie instead!” Linda pronounced it wrong; she said macaroons. But Joy was far too busy deflating to correct her. “I said we should do both, but then Robert put his foot down. Wasteful, he said. Now he’s worried about money, after two decades of buying Kimberly anything she wants? But there it is. So I came to cancel the order, Joy. I didn’t feel right doing it on the phone, after all you’ve done for us.”

“I’m sorry to hear all of this,” said Joy. Inside she was crumbling and seething, but she was hoping that if she could keep her cool Linda might still change her mind. “I mean, those macarons are okay, you know, but—”

“I don’t care for them at all,” said Linda loyally. “To me, they taste like cardboard. But Kimberly just went crazy for them. Apparently they’re very hip these days, macarons. And you know young people, always chasing the trends.”

“They may be hip,” said Joy. “But the Roving Patisserie is not a true island business, you know. They’ve got no roots here. They’re from New York! If what you’re after is a true island wedding, then you need true island fare.” Holly had been right to worry for Joy after all. How fickle people were! So distractible, their heads turned so easily by the next new and shiny thing, by free shipping or thirty percent off. Just yesterday a mother had come in with her three young children and asked what she got if she bought ten pies. You know what you get? Joy wanted to say. You get the chance to buy your eleventh one. That’s what you get after you buy ten.