me carry it out?'
I supposed right. Mother waited patiently in the car, leafing through the latest issue of Modern Bride. She never saw me lugging two sacks of manure and a remarkably large sheet cake out to the trunk. I hoped the cake's wrapping was air tight.
Eventually both of us ran out of errands, and I called home on the cellular phone. Pam answered.
'Hi,' I told her. 'I just thought I'd let you know that we're finished and heading home. Maybe you could have some tea and sandwiches ready?'
'They're coming! They're coming,' she bellowed. Audibly, even to Mother. I cut the connection. Mother seemed absorbed in playing with her purchases. Perhaps she hadn't noticed.
When we arrived back at our neighborhood, I was astonished to find a large fallen tree blocking the direct route home. It was getting dark; I was lucky not to run into it.
'Wherever do you suppose that came from?' Mother asked.
'Maybe they had a local thundershower here,' I said. 'We'll have to go the long way round.' I dialed home on the cell phone.
'Pam, hi, there's a tree down blocking our way,' I said.
'Oh, really?' she said. 'Imagine that!' I glanced back at the street behind the log. Despite the fading light, I could see a few telltale shreds of pale Spanish moss littering the pavement. A head popped out from behind the Donleavys' fence and then back in again.
'I'll have to go the long way, by your house, so I'll stop by and put the manure in the shed. Have you got that? I'm putting the manure in the shed.'
'Oh, what a great idea! Dad can come there and get it!'
'Yes, that's the idea.'
I turned around and took the long way home. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the fallen tree crawling swiftly off the road into the Donleavys' yard, on eight or ten mismatched legs.
When we got to Pam's yard, I backed up to the garden shed.
'I'll just be a minute,' I said. I blocked Mother's view by opening the trunk, threw open the garden shed door--
'Aaaaaaah!' I was so startled to find Dad crouching in the corner of the tiny shed that I uttered a small shriek.
'Meg, dear? Is anything wrong?' Mother called.
Dad put his finger to his lips and shook his head.
'No, why?' I called back.
'I heard a scream.'
'Must have been the peacocks,' I called, shoving the cake into Dad's hands. 'I hardly notice them anymore.' Dad, attempting to help with the deception, began giving remarkably authentic peacock shrieks. I frowned him into silence.
I unloaded the two manure sacks, closed the shed door--resisting the temptation to lock Dad in and keep him out of mischief--slammed the trunk down, and drove off.
This time, when I glanced in the rearview mirror, I saw Dad galloping across the backyard toward our house with the cake in his arms. I sighed.
'Is anything wrong, dear?'
'It's been a long day,' I said, truthfully. Mother patted my arm.
'Well, you'll be able to rest this evening,' she said. 'The rehearsal won't take long at all.'
Sure.
When I got to the end of the driveway, I was startled. There were two very large iron lanterns with burning candles in them posted on either side of the entrance. I turned into a lane literally dripping with Spanish moss and lit by dozens of strings of twinkly lights.
'Oh, my goodness!' Mother said. 'It's wonderful!'
Even as tired as I was, I had to admit it was impressive. We drove up to the house, which was lit with candles on the inside and more strings of lights on the outside. Several more lanterns outlined a path to the backyard.
Everyone yelled 'Surprise!' when we got there. Only about two hundred of our nearest and dearest, which made it positively cozy compared with what tomorrow would be like. Everyone was complimenting Dad on his brilliant idea and each other on how well it had turned out. Everyone had brought food and drink, and they were all behaving themselves beautifully. Even Cousin Horace had showed up in coat and tie.
I dragged a lawn chair and a Diet Coke to a quiet corner of the yard, put my feet up on an empty beer keg, and collapsed.
'Why so glum?' Michael asked, appearing at my side, as usual.
'Do you know how many miles I've walked today?' I asked.
'Do you know how many wheelbarrow loads of Spanish moss I've hung?' he countered.
'You didn't have Mother cracking the whip over you.'
'I had your Dad and Pam.'
'I almost ran into that fallen tree.'
'I fell off the ladder twice.'
I couldn't help giggling. 'All right, you win,' I said.
'Beautiful, isn't it?' he said, waving his arm at the yard.
'Yes,' I said. 'Absolutely, positively, ridiculously beautiful.'
We sat in silence, watching the guests drift across the yard in the flickering candlelight, hearing the murmur of conversation and the occasional ripple of laughter. Mother and Dad were standing near each other at the center of the party. Dad was explaining something to several cousins, gesturing enthusiastically. Mother was watching him with approval. Everyone was relaxed and happy. At the time like this, it became really obvious how much of a pall the unsolved murders had cast over everyone's mood this summer, I thought. And looked around once more for the sheriff. Where on earth was he? I still had nagging doubts about Samantha's guilt, and I wanted to make sure that the sheriff, in his zeal to convict Samantha, didn't overlook any evidence that pointed to Barry as the culprit.
A figure stepped between us and the rest of the party. Jake. He was strolling along, looking up at the trailing fronds of moss with bewilderment.
'What do you think of the moss?' Michael asked him.
Jake started.
'The moss? Oh, it's all right if you like the stuff. I suppose it's pretty enough.' He picked up the end of a frond, looked at it critically, and then dropped it again, as if dismissing it. 'Very odd,' he said, as if to himself, and wandered off.
I forced myself to mingle for a while, then retreated back to brood in peace in my observation post at the edge of the yard.
'You're worried about something,' Michael said. He was definitely turning into a mind reader, as well as my faithful shadow.
'I keep having this nagging feeling I've forgotten something. Or overlooked something. Something important.'
'Something for your mother's wedding?'
'I suppose it must be. I mean, the murders are solved, the other two weddings are over, one way or another. It must be something about Mother's wedding, right?'
'What did you do today? Maybe we can figure what you've forgotten by process of elimination.'
I related all the errands we'd done, made Michael chuckle at the clever way I'd gotten the cake into the car under Mother's very nose, made him laugh outright at my description of Dad lurking in the tool shed and shrieking like a peacock.
'I can't see Jake doing anything ridiculous like that,' I said with a sigh.
'Ridiculous!' Michael said. 'I like that; if you ask me your dad's the ultimate romantic.'
'I agree,' I said, looking around at all the moss, candles, and Christmas lights. 'In a bizarre way, it's very romantic how he'll happily do the most ridiculous things to please Mother.'
