Rob’s law degree made itself evident at the most inconvenient moments, as with this completely reasonable question that Angie didn’t want to answer. If she tried to mislead him with a partial truth by telling him that she didn’t want to force a confidence, he would see through her. The whole truth was that she didn’t want to take the chance that Miss Zula would appropriate the photo and ask her not to pursue it without further explanation. There were few subjects that Miss Zula seemed reluctant to discuss—at least thus far—but her brother was one of them.

“I will,” Angie said. “At some point. But I have to tread carefully with Miss Zula.”

Rob was looking at her closely. “Of course,” he said finally, the lawyer still foremost in his expression. “I can see that.”

The last visitor of the day had been the one Angie least wanted to see. Harriet Darling came rushing in, out of breath and sputtering apologies, because, she told Angie, her appointment with Tony had been for 3:30, and here it was a full hour later.

To Angie it made perfect sense that Tony himself was late. He was no more reliable than Harriet when it came to being punctual.

“I guess he forgot. He’s out showing Markus the fine points of using a light meter.”

Harriet’s face broke into a smile that made her look so young that Angie wished she had a camera to record it.

“In’t that just sweet?” Harriet said. “Taking Eunice’s Markus under his wing like that.”

“What did you need to talk to him about?” Angie asked.

“Why, the wedding, of course. Y’all are doing the videotaping, and I’ve got notes here”—she dug in her bag and pulled out a leather portfolio—“I’ll just have to go over it all with you.”

“You wouldn’t rather come back tomorrow?”

“Heavens, no.” Harriet sat down with a plop on the sofa and threw back her head. “Tomorrow I won’t have time to breathe much less come back here. It’s a good thing I took this week off.” She dropped her chin to her chest and glared at Angie.

“You know I love her dearly, but I could kill Caroline. Leaving us with all this, and Tab in the hospital—no, no, don’t make a face. He’s doing fine.”

Angie said silent thanks that Harriet was so easily diverted.

She was saying, “He’s doing so much better, the nurses are going cross-eyed dealing with him. Tab is not a good patient, you had best believe me. Mother Teresa would end up slapping him silly, and I’m no Mother Teresa.”

“He’s got to be in some pain,” Angie offered.