Uncle Joe had disappeared into the gloom. They heard the faint sound of a door opening somewhere.

Jane said, "I guess we're on our own to explore further. It looks fairly clean in here, don't you think?"

“It's so dark it's impossible to tell. What are you doing about seating for the ceremony?”

Jane peered toward the far end of the room. "That's a nice wide staircase down there, isn't it? Livvy can come down that way — it would really show off her dress and we can shove the furniture that's here back against the walls farther. I have a company bringing in and setting up very nice folding chairs the morning of the wedding."

“Is this room, huge as it is, going to hold everybody?" Shelley asked.

Jane sat down on a big leather sofa that enveloped her like a grandmother's hug, and said, "That's the odd thing, Shelley. There aren't that many guests. I only sent out seventy-five invitations and a great many of them were out-of-town-ers who sent gifts but aren't coming. Business associates, I assume. There are only about forty people coming — plus the staff that will be staying here. You, me, the seamstress, caterer, and florist. And the immediate family members, of course."

“Don't forget Uncle Joe," Shelley said. "Doesn't it seem a bit odd to go to such trouble and expense for such a small wedding?"

“It's what Livvy wanted," Jane said. "Who am I to argue with a bride?"

“Where are the rest of the guests staying?"

“There's a smallish motel quite close. I've reserved the whole place. And most of the family will stay here. Let's look at the bedrooms. If we can find them.”

They groped their way through the big main room, and found a passageway opening off the left side. Along it were twelve tiny rooms on each side of a long hallway. "These must have been the monks' rooms," Shelley said, opening the closest door with considerable trepidation.