CHAPTER 6: JOUR DE FÊTEWe got lucky, thought Lydia. Almost home free!
No trace of the storm that had flooded roads and broken off branches three days ago. This sky was vivid cobalt, the sun as bright as a wedding ring. A light summer breeze ruffled leaves and shooed away bugs without chilling the tanned legs and shoulders of the guests drifting across the Nashes’ lawn.
From the driveway Lydia could see white tents placed exactly where Harry Nash had said they would be. The up side of the rain was a boardwalk under and between them, laid down by Pam’s caterer. Her string quartet supplied upscale background music for ladies in floral sundresses mingling with gentlemen in crisp white shirts (military and police) or silky colored ones (venture capitalists and neighbors). The white orb of a
