Mary brushed a hand through Isabeau’s hair. “You’re so beautiful. I think your man is going to be very happy that he wanted an actual wedding ceremony for you.”

Isabeau’s fingers creased in the dress. “Don’t tell him about this.” The dress made her feel more than romantic and beautiful—she felt sexy. Really sexy. A wild temptress. Maybe Ruth Ann Gobel had woven in a spell the way some of the newspapers claimed when they talked about her work. Women felt different in her designs. Isabeau certainly did.

“Oh Mary!” Another voice chimed in from the doorway, and Isabeau whirled around to see another woman. She looked a little more worn than Mary, was a little heavier, but her eyes were kind, and right now she was staring at Isabeau with rapt attention. “So this is our little bride. Isabeau Chandler? I’m Ruth Ann Gobel. Mary tells me you may need some alterations, but can’t tell where. Let me look.”

For the next two hours, Isabeau was spun around, poked, prodded, her hair washed and redone in preparation for some “do” Mary and Ruth both felt was necessary to complete the look. The two decorated the cake with surprising flourish, and other women began to arrive with platters of food.

“Go out onto the back porch and have tea with your man. We put out fruit, crackers and cheese, and you should eat something,” Mary said. “You’ve got a couple of hours to rest before everyone begins to arrive.”

Isabeau looked around the kitchen at all the women. “There’s more?”

“The entire valley is coming, dear,” Mary said with a sweet smile. “A chance for a celebration, you know. We’re all on the other side of sixty and we could use something fun like this. No one is going to miss it.”

Isabeau shook her head. Conner had no idea what he’d gotten them all into with his sudden idea of marriage. She felt a little light- headed herself, the talk swirling around her until all the words ran together and there was just the roar of need in her head. Need of Conner. Need for freedom. Need to let her cat out.

She ran her nails lightly over her arm. At least for a little while the other women had managed to drown out the needs of her leopard, but after a while, the close proximity of so many females—even though they were no threat to her mate—made her leopard cranky. Isabeau sighed and wandered out to the back porch, stopping abruptly when she saw Conner sitting at a table with Rio. A long, jaunty red-and-white cloth hung to the ground around the circular table, and an unlit candle adorned the center, along with plates of strawberries and raspberries mixed with cheese and crackers, a pitcher of lemonade and another of ice tea. The ladies had already been here.