“Yes, that, I think, is the difference,” the first woman said. She poured the rest of her drink in her mouth and pushed the glass to the edge for the bartender to collect. She ran her tongue across the front of her teeth before making a sucking sound and continuing. “That girl Celine was the only one around here left to give him the time of day. Trash meets trash if you ask me, but she must have smarted up. You know, people think he’s got all this money, but tobacco’s not doing well. No one smokes that much anymore. Even consolidating, most tobacco farms can’t match the scale of production of any of the big companies. That’s why he started that practice, for goodness’ sake. I heard he put most of what he had in this wedding because he knew how important it was to her. He did all that and she’s gone and he’s gotten himself broke over it.”

“How much do you think they spent?”

“I don’t know, but it’s got to be a fortune. What a waste.”

Mira heard Celine’s name and had to interrupt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but are you talking about Celine? The fiancée?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?”

“No, I—I haven’t heard. I’m sorry, but what happened?”

“That girl’s gone. No one can find her anywhere. She’s gone and disappeared.”

Mira couldn’t cancel her order, so she paid for her meal and left, making her way to the main house. A small crowd had gathered around the entrance, but with nothing to see and nothing to do they just circled around the lawn. Others had gone and sat on the porch chairs. Guests sat with their hands clasped in their laps, their eyes scanning in search of further gossip.

Mira passed them all and went upstairs, heading straight for Celine’s room. She wanted to knock on the door and see for herself, but when she got up there the door was already open. Phillip sat on the unmade bed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He was dressed in his nightclothes. Dark blue silk pants and an unbuttoned silk shirt. On his feet a pair of black slippers.

“No one can find her,” Phillip said, shaking his head. “No one knows where she is.”

“What happened?”

“When she didn’t make her hair appointment, Kristina”—he gestured to a woman sitting on the sofa behind him—“came over to see if maybe she’d just overslept. She knocked on the door but no one answered and so she got one of the staff with a key to let her in, but this was what she found. Everything left like this, with her gone. The bed was unmade so she slept here, so she must have gone somewhere this morning, but no one has seen her.”