It couldn’t have been easy to grow up in the shadow of such a mother. Some children of dominating parents turned out to be timid and insecure, desperate not to attract attention. Bethany, however, seemed to be have been made in the same tough, diamond-hard mold. Although Bethany wanted a stylish wedding, it was clear that above all she desired expediency. I couldn’t help wondering if she was worried about Ryan wriggling off the hook.

The pair sat side by side on the blue sectional, their legs crossed identically on the diagonal. Bethany was a gorgeous young woman, lean and lanky, her hair long, white blond, and stick straight. A large engagement solitaire glittered on her left hand as she draped her arm gracefully along the back of the sofa.

“Mother,” she said to Hollis, “Ryan and I have already agreed that we’re only going to invite guests that we have personal connections to.”

“What about my personal connections? An ex-president and first lady —”

“We’re not going to invite them.”

Hollis stared at her daughter as if she had just spoken in tongues. “Of course we are.”

“I’ve been to weddings with Secret Service, Mother. Bomb-sniffing dogs, the magnetometers, everything in lockdown for a five-mile radius… Ryan wouldn’t stand for it. There’s only so far I can push him.”

“Why isn’t anyone worried about pushing me?” Hollis asked, and laughed angrily. “Everyone knows the mother is in charge of the wedding. It’s all going to reflect on me.”

“That doesn’t mean you can bully everyone into doing what you want.”

“I’m the one being bullied. I’m the one everyone’s trying to sideline!”

“Whose wedding is this?” Bethany asked. “You had your own. Do you have to take mine too?”

“Mine was nothing compared to this.” Hollis shot me an incredulous glance as if to convey how impossible her daughter was. “Bethany, do you know how much you have in your life that I didn’t get?”

“Of course I do. You never stop talking about it.”

“No one is being sidelined,” I interceded hastily. “We all have the same goal, for Bethany to have the wedding she deserves. Let’s get the contractual obligations out of the way, and then we can start working on a master guest list. I’m sure we can find some ways to pare it down. We’ll consult with Ryan, of course.”

“Isn’t it up to me to decide —” Hollis began.

“I’m positive we can have Bethany featured as bride of the month in Southern Weddings and Modern Bride,” I interrupted, trying to distract her.

“And Texas Bride,” Sofia added.

“Not to mention some local media coverage leading up to the wedding,” I continued. “First we’ll come up with a compelling narrative —”

“I know all that,” Hollis said irritably. “I’ve been interviewed dozens of times about my galas and fund-raisers.”

“Mother knows everything,” Bethany said in a saccharine tone.

“One of the most appealing angles to this story,” I said, “is about a mother’s and daughter’s joy in planning a wedding together while the daughter is expecting her own child. That could be a great hook for —”

“We’re not going to mention the pregnancy,” Hollis said decisively.

“Why not?” Bethany asked.

“The old guard won’t approve. It used to be that these situations were covered up and kept quiet, which is still the best way, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Bethany retorted. “I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of, and I’m not going into hiding. I’m marrying the father of my child. If the old bitches don’t like it, they should try living in the twenty-first century. Besides, my bump is going to be obvious by the time the wedding takes place.”

“You’ll have to watch your weight, sweetheart. Eating for two is a myth. During my entire pregnancy, I only gained fifteen pounds. You’re already looking puffy.”

“Bethany,” Sofia broke in with artificial cheer, “you and I need to arrange a time to brainstorm ideas and color palettes.”

“I’ll come too,” Hollis said. “You’ll want my ideas.”

After the Warners had left the studio, Sofia and I collapsed on the sectional and groaned in unison.

“I feel like roadkill,” I said.

“Are they going to act like this the whole time?”

“This is only the beginning.” I stared up at the ceiling. “By the time we make it to the seating plan, blood will have been shed.”

“Who is the old guard?” Sofia asked. “And why does Hollis keep talking about him?”

“It’s not a him, it’s a them. An older, established group that wants everything to stay the same. There can be an old guard in a society, in politics, a sports organization, pretty much any group you can come up with.”

“Oh. I thought she meant someone in the army.”

It was probably because of the contentious meeting we’d just been through, and the sudden release from tension, but Sofia’s innocent remark struck me as irresistibly funny. I began to laugh.

A throw pillow came flying out of nowhere, hitting me in the face.

“What was that for?” I demanded.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at what you said.”