Katy was thinking of quitting her job to spend a year in Ireland. She had an offer to tend bar at a pub in Cork. Great.

Ryan had sent an uncharacteristically long message describing his latest therapy session with Lily. He was dismayed at the amount of anger his daughter seemed to harbor. Against him for being absent during her childhood. Against Lutetia for hiding from him the fact of her existence-and for recently abandoning her to return to Nova Scotia.

He wrote that he was discouraged, homesick, and missed my company. The tenor was so heartbreaking, it drilled a hole through my sternum.

But Ryan's message wasn't as sad as the one penned by Harry. Recently, my sister and I had received shocking news not dissimilar from that which had altered Ryan's world.

Harry's son, Kit, had fathered a child the summer he was sixteen and in Cape Cod at sailing camp. For reasons that would forever remain a mystery, the child's mother, Coleen Brennan, of an unrelated branch of the clan, had not disclosed to her summer love that he had a daughter.

Victoria "Tory" Brennan was now fourteen. Upon the sudden death of Coleen, Tory had relocated from Massachusetts and was now living with Kit in Charleston.

Harry had a granddaughter. I had a grandniece.

Harry was furious about all the lost years. And despondent over the fact that Kit, wanting to give Tory time to adjust, wouldn't yet allow his mother to visit.

I was dialing Harry's number when the front bell chimed. Thinking it was Galimore, I put down the handset and went to the door.

It wasn't my worst nightmare.

But it was close.

PETE AND SUMMER WERE STANDING CLOSE BUT NOT TOUCHING. Both looked tense, like people waiting in line. Summer held a Nieman Marcus bag by its string handle.

Pasting on a faux smile, I opened the door. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Summer looked like the question stumped her.

"You sure you want to do this?" Pete sounded uncomfortable.

"Sure." Oh, no. "Come on in."

Pete was wearing flip-flops, khaki shorts, and a Carmel Country Club golf shirt. Summer had on wedge sandals, a silk tank, and designer camouflage pants that would have unnerved Patton.

Summer swanned straight to the dining room and parked the bag on the table. Pete and I followed.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked. Cyanide and Kool-Aid?

"Merlot would be nice if-"

"We won't be here that long." Pete shot me an apologetic grin. "I know you have more important things on your mind."

"See, Petey. That's your problem. Our wedding is important. What could be more important?"

Finding a cure for AIDS?

Summer began lifting items from the bag and organizing them into clusters. Napkins. Swatches of fabric. Silver picture frames. A glass container that looked like a giant lab flask.

"Now. The tablecloths will be ecru. The centerpieces will be made up of roses and lilies arranged in these vases." A cherry-red nail ticked the flask. "These are the napkin possibilities."

She fanned out the stack. The choices included pink, brown, silver, green, black, and a shade that I took to be ecru.

"And these are the options for the fabric that will drape each chair back."

She arranged the swatches side by side below the lucky napkin finalists. Over her back, Pete's eyes met mine.

I crooked a brow. Seriously?

He mouthed, "I owe you."

Oh, yeah.

Summer straightened. "So. What do you think?"

You don't have the sense God gave a corn muffin.

"Wow," I said. "You've done a lot of work."

"Indeed I have." Summer beamed a smile that could have sold a million tubes of Crest.

How to maneuver the minefield?

Psychology. No chance muffin brain would catch on.

"How would you describe the floral arrangements?" I asked.

"Kind of pink and yellow. But very understated."

"So you want simple."

"But elegant. It has to make a statement."

"Clearly green is out."

"Clearly."

As Summer snatched up the first reject, I raised my brows to Pete.

"Very funny," he mouthed.

"Do you like a monochromatic look?"

Summer regarded me blankly.

"Things being the same color."

"I like more punch. Ah. I see what y'all mean."

The ecru napkin disappeared into the bag.

"Stark contrast?"

"Not so much."

"Then black is probably wrong."

"Totally."

Black. Gone.

"An earthy look?"

"Not for summer." She giggled. "Not me. The season."

"Then forget brown."

Gone.

That left silver and pink.

"Are you leaning toward one of the patterns?" I asked.

"I love this one." She stroked a swatch with ghastly pink swirls on a cream background.

I remembered the outfit she'd worn on her last visit.

Bingo.

I laid the pink napkin artfully across the swirly swatch of fabric.

"Yes!" Summer clapped in glee. "Yes! Yes! I agree! See, Petey? You just have to use good taste."

Petey held his applause.

"Now." Summer arranged the four silver frames in a row. "Every place setting will have one of these. So the guests know where to sit. Then they keep it as their gift. Clever, right?"

"Um."

"Which is your favorite?"

"They're all very nice."

As Summer pointed out the minutiae that set each frame apart, I noted that she took longer with one than the others.

"I like the dotted border," I said.

"So do I! Tempe, we are so much alike, we could be sisters!"

Behind his fiancee's back, Petey winced.

Summer was gathering her samples when my mobile sounded. Excusing myself, I stepped into the kitchen.

Area code 704. Charlotte. I didn't recognize the number.

Preferring a sales pitch for funeral plans to further interaction with Bridezilla, I clicked on.

"Temperance Brennan?"

I heard a car horn in the background, suggesting the caller was outside.

"Yes."

"The coroner?"

I felt my scalp tighten. "Who is this, please?"

"You got Eli Hand at the morgue."

The voice was muffled, as though coming through a filter. I couldn't tell if it was the same one that had uttered the menacing two-word voice mail.

"Who is this?"

I heard a click, then three beeps.

"Damn!"

"Everything OK?"

I whipped around.

Pete was watching me, his face tight with concern. I was so freaked I hadn't heard him enter the kitchen.

"I"-I what?-"got an unexpected call."

"Not bad news, I hope."

"No. Just-" Adrenaline made it feel like crickets were trapped in my chest.

"Unexpected," he finished for me.

"Yes."

"You can remove the phone from your ear."

"Right."

"I want to thank you for"-Pete jabbed a thumb over one shoulder toward the dining room door-"that."

"You're welcome."