They finished making the bed and Layla added, "Oh, I know who could tell you about it. Livvy's father and his best friend and hunting buddy both had daughters the same age. I can't remember her name at the moment, but Mrs. Crossthwait mentioned her as being one of the other bridesmaids. Mrs. C. was complaining about all the fancy stuff on the dress."

“Oh, that's Eden Matthews," Jane said.

“That's right," Layla replied. "Livvy sometimes whined about having to spend so much time with Eden because their dads were friends. Eden is a bit on the earthy side, I assume."

“She complained about her and still picked her as a bridesmaid?" Jane asked.

Layla laughed. "My bet is that she was another decision that Daddy made.”

Shelley fluffed up one of the limp pillows and stuffed it into a pillowcase. "Why do I have the feeling that we're not all going to be real crazy about Daddy?”

Three

Mr. Willis, the caterer, arrived just before noon. Jane had begun to teeter on the brink of panic again because there was hardly a scrap of food in the house and she had no idea where to even find burgers and fries for Mrs. Crossthwait, Layla, Larkspur, Shelley, and herself. Uncle Joe, wherever he'd taken refuge, certainly had food and probably wouldn't have shared it even if they'd begged for crusts.

Mr. Willis was a tubby little man with a big round head like a pumpkin, perched on top of which was a tottering chef's hat. Jane wondered if he didn't have to glue it to his sparse fair hair to keep it in place. He was probably only in his late twenties, but was stuffy and formal enough to have been much older. He had a spotty teenaged girl assistant who looked like she could step right into the role of Victorian skivvy. He didn't bother to introduce her.

“This kitchen," he exclaimed, investigating his domain, "is a disgrace."