They arrived for pre-rehearsal drinks just before four, with Father Gideon in tow. They met everyone on the terrace where the air was cool, the area shaded from the still-intense late afternoon sun. The fragrance of roses drifted from the garden on a soft lake breeze as the day’s shadows stretched over family and friends like a soft veil. It was a lovely evening, but Olivia knew that things were merely a façade of picture perfect. Ella seemed relaxed and her smile appeared to be authentic. However, as drinks progressed, that smile turned into a grim-looking slash. At first, she’d been tranquil, if not a little animated as she sat with Craig and Pete, speaking in an excited, low voice. The trio glanced in Olivia’s direction for a moment. A shade of anxiety crept upon Craig’s face and then Ella was on her feet, glaring. The Queen was displeased. The women present stood in a tight little clique. The groomsmen congregated together, their backs a wall of exclusion. “I don’t like this!”
