By nine that morning, I was sprawled across a sheet I used to cover my poorly chosen couch in order to avoid touching the hot, itchy fabric. It was beautifully upholstered in royal purple velvet. I had found it at an estate sale in Chicago. It had cost a mint to have it shipped to Stripling, and, not until it was safely stowed in my apartment did I learn that it was uncomfortable in the summertime and a magnet for black cat hair. My long legs hung over its end, and Templeton lay in the same position next to me on the floor. I periodically spritzed him, then myself, with ice water from a spray bottle that I normally used to wet down my unruly hair. Templeton shook his head like a dog every time he was hit with a spray of water but didn’t move out of its reach. Even an aquaphobic feline welcomed the cool mist in my air conditioning–deprived apartment. While Templeton shook his head for a fourth time, I tried to build up the courage to call my brother back and tell him the truth—that I did know that Olivia was to be married this weekend in Stripling and that I, India Hayes, who had sworn after the last wedding that I would never be in a bridal party again, am to be one of Olivia’s doting bridesmaids.

The phone rang.

I told Templeton, “I’ll get it, but tomorrow I’m teaching you to answer the phone.”

He didn’t respond.

“India?” It was a voice easily as perky as the weathergirl’s.

I swallowed hard. I knew that voice. “Hi, Olivia. You aren’t in town, are you?”

Templeton gave me a look that to me said, “Spritz me, baby.” I obliged.

“Just arrived. We’re at my mother’s now. Stripling is just how I remember it. It’s so cute. The perfect place for a wedding, don’t you think?”

“Really darling.”

She missed the sarcasm. “As you know, it’s a holiday.”

“I heard something about that.” I spritzed myself in the face.

“Very funny. Anyway, my mother is having a little Independence Day gathering at two in honor of my return, and I am inviting you to come.”