"I don't know what that girl is drinking at this time of the morning," Mrs. Ashcroft said with a chuckling sigh, looking out over Drake's shoulder. They both stood in the open front door, watching six girls cram into Gretchen's BMW.
"Huh?" Drake had laughed and glanced at his mother. That little frown, the triple lines between her eyebrows, threatening to draw a little line down her nose, worried him. He should have come home a week earlier, to help her with all the work involved in the party.
Stacy should have been there, helping. He wouldn't have put it past Gretchen to have done or said something nasty, to keep her from participating in all the preparations.
"There are no assigned seats, and no bridal party table," his mother said, raising her hand to wave as Gretchen slapped the horn with a brief blatt. "I don't know where the girl gets those ideas."
"Better check with the caterer to make sure none of your instructions got changed," he said, and closed the door. "I wouldn't put it past Gretchen to call them and overrule everything you told them last week."
"Hmm, yes. I thought for a while that girl had changed, that she had finally grown up." Mrs. Ashcroft shook her head. "Good idea."
"You wouldn't have these problems if Stacy was helping out."
"Yes, well, Stacy isn't talking to your sister for some reason." She paused, her foot on the bottom step, heading upstairs. "I should really call her, find out what happened."
"Dinah dropped her. That's what happened." Drake offered a smile and shook his head. "It'll all work out. Stacy'll come to the party tomorrow night and she and Dinah will hug and laugh about the whole stupid misunderstanding and everything'll be fine."