A Groom wirh a View

before then,“ Jane said.
    “I wouldn’t mind having some of those sheets,“ Shelley said, having opened one of the packages. She was greedily stroking a soft linen pillowcase.
    Another vehicle was coming up the drive. This, too, was a closed white van, but was painted along the sides with a colorful garland of flowers. A willowy young man with shoulder-length blond hair, perfectly faded jeans, and a violently vivid Hawaiian shirt hopped out and strode toward Jane, his arms outstretched. “My darling Jane, I have finally arrived. Traffic was positively deadly, but I persevered for your sake.“ He folded her in a careful embrace.
    Once Jane was released, she said, “Shelley, this is Larkspur. Larkspur, Shelley Nowack—my best friend who’s helping me pull this wedding off.“
    “You’ve mentioned her. I’m charmed to meet you, Shelley. What wonderfully Pre-Raphaelite cheekbones you have, my dear.”
    Shelley touched her face. “Oh... have I really?“
    “Divine. If I were a painter, I’d paint you,“ he proclaimed. “I must see the gardens first.“
    “I don’t think there are any,“ Jane said, glancing around.
    “The ghosts of gardens, I should have said,“ Larkspur explained. “I saw the tiniest glimpse of a bleeding heart right over there and where there’s bleeding heart, there has been a garden. The old heirloom plants are so much better than some of the new varieties, don’t you think? I wouldn’t think anyone would mind if I just dug up a few little plants, would they?“
    “I’m sure it would be fine,“ Jane said. “It’s doomed to become a golf club this year anyway.”
    He threw his hands in the air dramatically. “Horrors! Horrible old men in light blue polyester pants traipsing around acres of boring grass. Then I must rescue some of the abandoned darlings that have survived the neglect. It’s a sacred duty. And maybe I’ll find time to search for the secret treasure as well.“ He laughed merrily.
    “Secret treasure?“ Jane asked.
    “You don’t know the story?“ he trilled. “Then I shall have to tell you all about it, but I must explore the gardens first and see what poor, neglected plants are here.“ He wandered off, making happy little exclamations to himself.
    “Is he Larkspur Smith or Bob Larkspur?“ Shelley said, smiling.
    “I have no idea. He refuses to be called anything but Larkspur. It takes a little getting used to.“
    “I wonder what Pre-Raphaelite cheekbones are,“ Shelley mused.
    “I don’t know, but you’ve got a couple of them, it seems.”
    They hung the first quilts. “We need one of those old-fashioned tennis racket-like things to knock the dust off,“ Shelley said.
    “A carpet smacker?“
    “I’m sure that’s not the technical term, but I know what you mean,“ Shelley said. “Another arrival.”
    A rather old red compact car came up the drive and a young woman got out. “Is one of you ladies Mrs. Jeffry?“ she asked in a soft voice. She was lovely—with a slim body, long legs, and a mass of dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She was dark-skinned. Perhaps part Indian or Spanish, Jane thought, but had startlingly blue eyes. She was wearing jeans and a white shirt with the tails tied at her waist.
    “I’m Jane, and you have to be Layla Shelton,“ Jane said.
    “How could you know?“ the young woman said with a smile.
    “I’ve seen your dress. It couldn’t possibly fit anyone else. It’s done, except for the fringe on the shawl. Don’t worry. I have Mrs. Crossthwait here under lock and key to make sure they get done in time.“
    “Are you sure? I felt bad when you called and I tattled that she didn’t seem to be getting along very quickly.“
    “I’m glad you did tattle. We’ll have everything done in time,“ Jane said, hoping she wouldn’t have to eat her words. She introduced Shelley and then said, “There’s supposed to be a handyman to help with your bags, but I think he’s run away from home.“
    “I don’t need help,“ Layla said. “But it looks like you might. You’re airing those quilts?“
    “We’re just going in for the next batch,“ Jane said.
    Layla came along, seemingly eager to help. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m very early,“ she said. “I don’t suppose Livvy’s even here yet. But with two children to escape from, a smart woman gets while the getting is good. I’ll probably miss them by this evening, but the prospect of freedom went to my head.”
    They discussed Layla’s