“You sound as though you know a lot about sports, Mr. Silva.”

“I was pretty good myself, when I was younger. Made all-state as a first baseman. Even got the attention of some scouts. Thought I might even make it to the majors. Then I busted my leg in a stupid car crash. My left leg was never the same. None of the teams were interested in me after that.”

“You must have been very disappointed.”

“Oh, yeah. Still think about what might have been. But that was a long time ago. I’d hoped Tony would’ve had the chance I never had. But someone gave him a few little pills, and—bang! His life is over. And no one’s on the hook for it, neither. Burns me up, I can tell you!”

Bob Silva’s face was getting redder.

“They never found out how he got the drugs?”

“The police wimped out, if you ask me. I gave ’em my ideas, and the boys on Tony’s team told ’em what they knew. Police never followed up. No one was ever arrested. Ike Irons said he was doin’ what he could. He knew Tony; even trusted him to baby-sit his own kids, for Christ’s sake! And even with that, no one did one day of time for my boy’s death. Not one day.”

“Tony baby-sat for Chief Irons?”

“A couple of times. That same spring. He and his wife, Annie, like to go out for a nice dinner. They’d put their kids to bed and Tony’d go over and do his homework at their place, so there’d be someone in the house, you know? In case one of the kids woke up. We only lived a couple of houses away. Ike would never have asked him to sit if he hadn’t trusted Tony; if he hadn’t thought he was a good kid, would he?”

“I wouldn’t think so. So you never had any proof of where Tony got the drugs?”

“Not exactly proof. But I had a feeling. A gut thing, you know? There was this guy in town used to hang around when the kids were playing baseball. No one knew him too well. Everyone else was just regular. The same folks been here for years. It couldn’t be any of them. So I figured, it was this new guy. What was he in Winslow for, anyway? He didn’t seem to have, you know, a purpose to be here.”

“So did you talk to him?”

“Oh, yeah. I talked to him. ’Course, he said he had nothing to do with it. Said he had a kid of his own. He wouldn’t hurt any kid.” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t believe him. I’d had a few drinks. I popped him a couple. I probably shouldn’t of. But I’ve been so damn frustrated about this! Wouldn’t you be?” Bob Silva’s eyes glazed over with tears. “I heard the guy’s dead now, so I’ll never know if it was him. What if one day your kid came home and just swallowed a handful of heavy-duty pills. Wouldn’t you want to know where they came from?”

Maggie reached out and touched his arm. “Yes. I’d want to know, too. Thank you for telling me. I’ll get those picture hangers now.” She went to the next aisle, leaving Bob Silva a little privacy, and his memories.

Maggie wasn’t convinced. Had Bob Silva killed Dan Jeffrey? Jeffrey’s death left Silva with too many unanswered questions.

After dinner that night Gussie smiled and announced, “You’ll never guess. I’ve decided to do something for the wedding that Lily suggested.”

Jim actually put down the snifter of brandy he’d been savoring. “Did she call again? I thought we had everything worked out about the guests.”

“No, this is something else entirely.” Gussie looked at them both. “I’ve been thinking. I know this is Lily’s first wedding as a mother of the groom. I’ll admit, she’s reminded me of it often enough. But maybe I’ve been underestimating how important that was. So, I’ve decided to wear the family veil Lily sent. It is beautiful.”

“Gussie, are you sure?” Jim asked. “I want you to do what’s right for you. Not just something for my mother.”

She put up her hand to stop him. “I want to. I’ll have to fold it, because I don’t want it to get caught in the wheels of the scooter. We sent the dress back, but I kept the veil to give to Lily myself so it wouldn’t be damaged. Last night I tried it on. And I think it’ll work. I can pin it to the top of my hair so it’ll be secure. And the soft cream of the old lace will look lovely with my yellow dress. So the veil will be my ‘something old,’ from your family, and the dress will be ‘something new.’” She turned to Maggie. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

Maggie smiled. “You’re ahead of me! I was going to give it to you, but if you need it to be borrowed…” She reached into her canvas tote and pulled out a small crimson silk bag and handed it to Gussie.

Jim leaned over. “What is it? I thought I was in charge of jewelry for the big day.”

“It’s not jewelry,” said Maggie.

Gussie opened the bag and emptied it onto the table. “Oh, I don’t believe it! You’re wonderful, Maggie. And I do want it to be borrowed. Because then you can have it back to use at your wedding someday, too!”

“Okay, ladies. Explain what’s so special about that coin,” said Jim.

Gussie handed it to him. “The full saying is ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence for your shoe.’ It’s a sixpence, Jim. They aren’t minted any longer, so in a lot of ways they’re antiques. Brides put them in their shoes during the wedding ceremony for good luck.”

He looked over the coin and handed it back to Gussie. “That’s a new one to me. Won’t it be uncomfortable?”

“Usually the bride takes it out of her shoe after the ceremony,” Maggie explained. “I thought it would be fun.”

“Absolutely,” said Gussie. “I’ll ask Ellen to bring a pin for the veil, and that will be borrowed. And I guess I’ll just have to wear blue panties.”

Maggie burst out laughing. “I don’t think you’re supposed to tell the groom details like that.”

“What details? I didn’t hear a thing,” Jim said, covering his ears dramatically and grinning.

“What are you wearing, Jim?” Maggie asked.

“An elegant dark gray suit, with a white shirt. And it just so happens I have such garments in my wardrobe.”

“And,” said Gussie, “here’s the latest wedding party bulletin. Jim, your mother has found a flower girl. Little Steffie is five, and as it turns out, is the niece of a distant cousin of mine who lives in Connecticut. Lily’s talking to Steffie’s mother about her dress. Prepare yourselves for flounces galore in a mini size. And that’s fine. Actually, I think it’ll be fun.”

“Does Lily realize the ceremony’s not going to be color-coordinated?” asked Maggie.

“She’s figured that out. She’s a bit shocked, but she’s coping. After all, what can you expect from a Yankee wedding?” grinned Gussie.

“True,” agreed Maggie. “The country lost all couth when we won The War.”

Jim almost choked.

“What flowers are you going to carry?” asked Maggie innocently, anxious to change the subject.

“I wanted to take a page, literally, from the Victorians,” said Gussie. “Years ago I found a mid-nineteenth-century book called The Language and Poetry of Flowers. I never wanted to sell it. I always knew that flowers, and many trees and fruits, had special meanings then. But it’s such fun to look up all the obscure meanings. Did you know the cypress tree meant death and eternal sorrow, for example? Or that the dandelion was an oracle? Or that if someone sent you a daffodil it meant ‘deceitful hope’?”

“Well, I’m glad no one has ever sent me a cypress tree!” said Maggie. “And I still love daffodils, although some years they do deceive us about the coming of spring. But what did you decide on for your bouquet?”

“It wasn’t as easy as I thought. ‘Love Returned’? That’s the ‘ambrosia flower.’ Ever hear of it? Well, we now call it ragweed. Not exactly something you can order at the florist. Or would want in your bridal bouquet. And ‘matrimony’ is the American linden tree. Again, not exactly right for a bouquet. ‘True love’ is the Forget-me-not, but those flowers are so fragile they couldn’t really be part of a bouquet either.”