“What exactly did Erma do?” Carlos whispered. We stood together in the back of the outdoor tent, the ceremony minutes away from starting.

“I have no idea. Her sister is the grandmother of the bride, I think. The conflict lies between the two of them. Glenda made it seem like it was a very long-standing feud.”

My cell phone buzzed—a text from Gaspard. Problem in the kitchen.

I grumbled. “I have to go check on this,” I told Carlos. “Your men are ready to go? After the ceremony, we’ll bring everyone onto the back patio for cocktails while the wedding party does photos, and then—”

“We’re clear to set up for the reception.” He finished my thought with a grin. “We’ve got it under control.”

“But no longer than thirty minutes. Work as fast as you can.”

He smiled. “Lane. Breathe. We’ve done this before. Everything is going to be fine.”

I squeezed his arm before walking away. “Thank you.”

In the kitchen, things weren’t looking quite so sunny. I found Gaspard red-faced and fuming, his arms folded tightly across his chest, nearly nose to nose with Joni—matron of honor and cheesecake maker extraordinaire.

“I don’t care if there are no walnuts in the bride’s salad. There can’t be walnuts in any salad,” Joni said. Her voice filled the entire kitchen.

“Is your sister going to be picking off of everyone else’s plates? You said she is allergic to walnuts. On her salad? I take out the walnuts.”

“What’s going on, Gaspard?” I asked.

He turned to face me. “I cannot deal with this woman telling me how to run my kitchen.”

“You aren’t listening to me.” Joni spoke through her teeth. “If anyone at the reception eats a walnut and then says hello to the bride, if they kiss her on the cheek or even just breathe on her, she will break out in hives. There cannot be walnuts at the reception. End of story.” She turned and looked at me. “We told Glenda this. We told her how bad the allergy is. I can’t believe there are even walnuts in the kitchen.”