“Mama always said Rob couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket,” John said. It wasn’t often he thought of his mother, but she seemed very close at the moment. Lucy Ogilvie Grant Bradshaw Butler Chatham Black would know how to handle this situation. She would look Patty-Cake Walker in the eye and say just the right thing, words as pretty as oleander and twice as deadly. If John were to ask her for advice, she would cluck sympathetically and offer anecdotes from her many ventures into matrimony. Who else of his acquaintance had as much experience with weddings, and the multitude of ways that the whole thing could go wrong?

“You must be very distressed if you are thinking of asking your mother for advice.” Kai was watching him, her arms filled with books.

John was getting used to the way Kai sometimes picked up his thoughts, but this made him jump. He said, “The one person I need to talk to is the one I can’t call. No phones at the retreat.”

He wanted to talk to Angie, too, but he couldn’t say that aloud, not even to Kai. And he had made a promise to himself: he would stay away from Angie until he had something concrete to say.

She shook her head at him as if he were a lazy student. Then she put down the books and went into the kitchen. She came out again with a pad of paper and a pen, which she thrust into his hands.

“Write,” she said. “They have no phones, but surely she can read a letter. If you have things you must say, then say them. Get it into the mail tomorrow morning and she will have it on Wednesday.”

“Tomorrow is a holiday,” John said.

“Then she will have it on Thursday, unless you want to drive up there and leave it for her. Is it that important?”

“Yeah,” John said. “It is.”

“Then write,” Kai said. “And Rob and I will drive with you, to keep you company.”

When Angie and Rivera got back to Ivy House the phone was ringing. They bumped into each other in their race to get to it when Tony’s arm snaked out from the couch and snagged the receiver.

He sat up and waggled his eyebrows at them.

“He’s feeling better,” Rivera said.

“Good,” Angie said. “Then I can kill him with an easy conscience.”

On the phone Tony said, “Your lovely daughter is right here, planning my murder. Here you go.” He held out the receiver and gave Angie a beatific smile. “Your father.”

“Angie!”

“Dad.”