There were other numbers she could have recited for Rivera, but kept to herself. She had seen John five times, four times from a good distance away; once when Connie and Pearl had called her over to give her a glass of lemonade so cold it made her teeth ache. In that one meeting he had met her gaze three times. She had managed to keep her voice even and steady, and hoped that the flush that crawled up over her neck would be attributed to the heat, by the Rose girls, at least.

All morning she had been stalking him with her camera, though she did her best not to make it obvious. She caught him as he came over the finish line, at the pancake breakfast, in conversation with children and his brother and a dozen other people, leaning down to hand Miss Junie a plate, throwing a ball, laughing. At one point she went to the top of the slide in the playground with her camera, taking an occasional shot of the ring of disgruntled kids’ faces below her, but mostly looking for John.

She was acting like a horny sixteen-year-old, but couldn’t stop herself from shooting a few pictures of him stretched out on a lawn chair in a row set up, it seemed, specifically for the Rose sons-in-law, minus Tab, who had had bypass surgery two days earlier.

“Where to now?” Rivera asked.

“Some church ladies are judging jams and preserves in the food tent, and then there’s the tug-o’-war.” Angie took an ice cube and rubbed it on her throat. “Apparently the Lawsons and the Ogilvies will be going head to head. Any sign of Tony?”

Rivera shrugged. “I’d check down by the river. He’s staying away from Harriet, at least.” Her gaze flicked to Angie’s right. “Heads up,” she said. “Patty-Cake.”

Angie took a deep breath and pasted on a smile before she turned. Patty-Cake was leaning over Miss Maddie, teeth flashing, eyes rounded.

“Cue the Jaws music,” Rivera said, and started filming.

“Miss Zula,” Patty-Cake was saying, “maybe you can tell me what our Caroline was thinking, running off right before her wedding.” She crossed her hands on her chest. “Makes no sense to me, no matter what angle I look at it.”

“Is that so?” Under the broad brim of a straw hat Miss Zula’s eyes seemed especially dark and very large. “Best you leave such complicated problems to the folks who aren’t so easily confused.” There was nothing even remotely friendly about her smile, something that seemed, finally, to register with Patty-Cake. She bit her lip and looked to Miss Maddie for help, but got only a vaguely polite, distant look from that normally friendly face.

“Um,” Patty-Cake said. “Well, all righty, then.” She half turned, caught sight of Angie, and her expression shifted again, from embarrassment to annoyance.

“Busy today, I see.” Her mouth twitched convulsively.