to provide for?”
“I heard he didn’t even think to leave anything to his mistress, Cara Whittles. Not even a measly five quid,” Andre said. “She was with him for thirty years. Can you imagine?”
“Did he think he was going to live forever?” I asked.
“Apparently,” Viv said.
Andre was traveling light with just one camera bag, so he shouldered the bag and the three of us walked up the steps toward the main entrance. I felt as if I should be wearing a toga and sandals as we walked through the large, imposing columns into the house.
A butler in a dark suit stood just inside the door in the center of a highly polished foyer. My eyes were dazzled by the enormous chandelier that hung overhead, which sparkled as light shone through each and every glass crystal.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Tremont, Ms. Parker and Mr. Eisel,” the butler greeted us.
I was a little taken aback that he knew our names, and it must have shown on my face, because he gave me a small smile.
“You are the last three names on my guest list,” he explained. “Marilyn Tofts, the event planner, has been anticipating your arrival. I’m Buckley. If you’ll follow me . . .”
We fell into step behind him. I quickly pulled my cell phone out of my clutch purse. Surely, we weren’t that late. No, we were only off by fifteen minutes. I hoped we hadn’t committed some huge social gaffe by being a few minutes late for an afternoon tea. Then again, I suspected Marilyn was being her micromanaging self and had stirred up the dust about our tardiness.
Buckley led us down a narrow hall that boasted large portraits of what I assumed were deceased members of the Grisby family. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw a wedding portrait of Daphne, looking lovely in a gorgeous white dress standing next to a handsome man, who had the same ruggedly handsome features as her sons.
Since Daphne’s father had been gone for thirty years, I wondered if he had given her away or if he had even shown up for the wedding. It seemed horribly selfish to me for him to have left his wife to raise the children and manage their home while he was off in Italy whooping it up with his girlfriend.
It made me think of my last unfortunate relationship with a man who’d not only still been married when he told me he wasn’t, but had also had me and several other women on the side. Suddenly, I had an urge to kick someone, a man, any man, really hard in the posterior. Irrational, I suppose, but there it was.
Buckley led us into a great room with large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a large sweeping veranda, which was decorated very festively with many tables in bright colors all set for tea.
Beyond the tables, a gorgeous garden filled the yard. I could see people wandering among the gravel paths admiring the statuary and fountains as well as the sculpted bushes.
“This is fantastic,” Andre gasped.
Buckley gave him an approving nod. He opened a large French door and escorted us out.
Dotty was the first to spot us. She stood under a rose-covered portcullis, talking to a group of ladies. When she saw Viv, she raised her hand in greeting and waved us over.
Viv had done a spectacular job on Dotty’s hat. She had decided to go as the March Hare, the Mad Hatter’s tea party companion who enjoys annoying Alice.
“Ginny, don’t you look lovely,” Dotty said. She wore a pale-yellow dress, which matched the ribbon that had been fashioned into a bow tie on the crown of her straw bowler hat, which was a lovely nut-brown color to represent rabbit fur.
“Thank you, Dotty,” Viv said. “You look lovely as well.”
Dotty introduced us to her friends and we introduced Andre. Dotty was delighted that he was here to take pictures and she immediately sent him off into the garden to snap pictures of the guests.
I saw Tina Grisby standing alone by a large fountain and I made my excuses to the others as I went to check on her. I hadn’t been able to forget the
“I heard he didn’t even think to leave anything to his mistress, Cara Whittles. Not even a measly five quid,” Andre said. “She was with him for thirty years. Can you imagine?”
“Did he think he was going to live forever?” I asked.
“Apparently,” Viv said.
Andre was traveling light with just one camera bag, so he shouldered the bag and the three of us walked up the steps toward the main entrance. I felt as if I should be wearing a toga and sandals as we walked through the large, imposing columns into the house.
A butler in a dark suit stood just inside the door in the center of a highly polished foyer. My eyes were dazzled by the enormous chandelier that hung overhead, which sparkled as light shone through each and every glass crystal.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Tremont, Ms. Parker and Mr. Eisel,” the butler greeted us.
I was a little taken aback that he knew our names, and it must have shown on my face, because he gave me a small smile.
“You are the last three names on my guest list,” he explained. “Marilyn Tofts, the event planner, has been anticipating your arrival. I’m Buckley. If you’ll follow me . . .”
We fell into step behind him. I quickly pulled my cell phone out of my clutch purse. Surely, we weren’t that late. No, we were only off by fifteen minutes. I hoped we hadn’t committed some huge social gaffe by being a few minutes late for an afternoon tea. Then again, I suspected Marilyn was being her micromanaging self and had stirred up the dust about our tardiness.
Buckley led us down a narrow hall that boasted large portraits of what I assumed were deceased members of the Grisby family. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw a wedding portrait of Daphne, looking lovely in a gorgeous white dress standing next to a handsome man, who had the same ruggedly handsome features as her sons.
Since Daphne’s father had been gone for thirty years, I wondered if he had given her away or if he had even shown up for the wedding. It seemed horribly selfish to me for him to have left his wife to raise the children and manage their home while he was off in Italy whooping it up with his girlfriend.
It made me think of my last unfortunate relationship with a man who’d not only still been married when he told me he wasn’t, but had also had me and several other women on the side. Suddenly, I had an urge to kick someone, a man, any man, really hard in the posterior. Irrational, I suppose, but there it was.
Buckley led us into a great room with large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a large sweeping veranda, which was decorated very festively with many tables in bright colors all set for tea.
Beyond the tables, a gorgeous garden filled the yard. I could see people wandering among the gravel paths admiring the statuary and fountains as well as the sculpted bushes.
“This is fantastic,” Andre gasped.
Buckley gave him an approving nod. He opened a large French door and escorted us out.
Dotty was the first to spot us. She stood under a rose-covered portcullis, talking to a group of ladies. When she saw Viv, she raised her hand in greeting and waved us over.
Viv had done a spectacular job on Dotty’s hat. She had decided to go as the March Hare, the Mad Hatter’s tea party companion who enjoys annoying Alice.
“Ginny, don’t you look lovely,” Dotty said. She wore a pale-yellow dress, which matched the ribbon that had been fashioned into a bow tie on the crown of her straw bowler hat, which was a lovely nut-brown color to represent rabbit fur.
“Thank you, Dotty,” Viv said. “You look lovely as well.”
Dotty introduced us to her friends and we introduced Andre. Dotty was delighted that he was here to take pictures and she immediately sent him off into the garden to snap pictures of the guests.
I saw Tina Grisby standing alone by a large fountain and I made my excuses to the others as I went to check on her. I hadn’t been able to forget the
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