Bree stood and hugged me. “Olivia always talked about your misadventures together. Did you really get lost in the sewer for two days when you were eleven?”

I glanced at Bobby for help, but he was lost to me, floored by Bree’s beauty. “More like two hours.”

“Bree’s a special education teacher at a public elementary school in Virginia,” Olivia told Bree. “India’s a librarian at Martin College. You probably have so much in common.”

Right, I thought.

Bobby added, “I’m a librarian, too. India and I are coworkers.”

Thank you, Bobby.

Bree giggled for no good reason. “I’d love to see Martin while I’m here.” She seemed to recollect me. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

I glanced at the picnic table three feet away lined with soft drinks, iced tea, and lemonade. “Nothing thanks.”

“Bobby, can I get you anything?” Bree asked.

He shook his head mutely. It would be a long time before he recovered his voice.

“Olivia?” Bree asked.

Olivia waved her hand at the burly man. Using my world-renowned powers of deduction, I concluded that the man was Kirk, Olivia’s fiancé, and that he could bench-press my weight. Without looking at Bree, she said, “Bottled water, make sure it’s spring water, in a glass with a handful of ice.”

“Right away.” Bree scurried off.

I glanced at Bobby to see if he’d noticed Olivia’s dismissive tone. If he had, he didn’t indicate it. His eyes had followed Bree.

Kirk rose from the table and lumbered toward us. He was an inch shorter than Olivia, who stood approximately five feet five. His hair was too blond and his skin too tanned. Husky and thick-chested, he reminded me of a lumberjack except he wore prep, not flannel, in a tight black T-shirt and tailored jean shorts. The effect was very S.W.A.T. meets weekend-wear. His biceps were so pronounced, his arms couldn’t rest easily at his sides. I towered over him in my flip-flops. Bemused, I wondered how Mrs. Blocken was going to trick him into wearing lifts during the ceremony. He kissed Olivia on the cheek.