“I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth,” Lisa Livia said.

“So I went to my dressmaker last night, and we worked on the dress,” Evie said as if they hadn’t spoken, pulling a lot of pink fabric out of the bag again. “Maria, would you please try Brenda’s wedding dress on for us?”

Maria took a deep breath and look the dress, which looked a lot lighter, and went inside, detouring into the housekeeper’s room. “Really, Evie,” Lisa Livia began.

Evie turned to her. “I did not appreciate what you said to me, Lisa Livia, but if someone had spoken to my son the way I spoke to your daughter, I would have felt the same way. I apologize, I sincerely do.”

“Oh, don’t,” Lisa Livia said miserably. “I apologize. I was completely out of line.”

“We’ve been talking,” Agnes said. “And we’re really both sure Maria will be fine with a white wedding. We think you were right to insist on something classic, like daisies and butterflies, Maria has always loved those, maybe with tiny flamingo accents and then a flamingo groom’s cake-”

“No, no,” Evie said. “A girl should have the wedding she wants. I made a mistake. I was glad to spend last night fixing it. My dressmaker is a genius. You’ll see.”

“Oh,” Lisa Livia said.

Agnes looked at Lisa Livia and knew she was thinking the same thing: How do you tell a woman who has stayed up all night and spent a small fortune in dressmaker overtime fees that the flamingo thing was a joke her future daughter-in-law played to teach her a lesson about meddling?

Agnes and Lisa Livia looked away from each other and shut up.

“So have you talked to Maisie Shuttle?” Evie said to Agnes, after they’d discussed the weather and hoped it would hold for the weekend, and how the weatherman was predicting that it would, and how the gazebo was certainly looking lovely.

“Who’s Maisie Shuttle?” Lisa Livia said.

“Florist,” Agnes said. “Not yet, I’m still getting her machine. Don’t worry. Maria will have her flowers, which I’m thinking will still be white, with maybe tiny pink accents-”

The screen door slapped open, and Maria came out in Brenda’s dress, but it was Brenda’s dress reborn, the hoop skirt and lace overlay gone along with the meringue sleeves and poufy overskirt and all the other froufrou. It was still flamingo pink, but lighter. Evie must have soaked it forever to rinse out part of the dye and now the cut was streamlined and strapless, with just an edge of netting along the top of the bodice, the skirt still full but with a crinoline not a hoop. Maria looked lovely. Pink as all hell, but lovely.

“That really did take you all night,” Agnes said, looking at all the work that must have gone into just removing fabric.

“I wanted to apologize today,” Evie said. “I didn’t want Maria to think I wasn’t… I didn’t want her to feel… I…” She looked at Maria. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. After Brenda and I went to lunch yesterday and talked, I-”

“Brenda,” Agnes snarled, imagining what that lunch had been like, Brenda dripping poison into Evie’s ear.

Maria took a deep breath. “Thank you, Evie, this is a beautiful dress and I’ll think of you when I walk down the aisle.”

Oh, hell, Agnes thought as she heard somebody walk through her kitchen. “You know what would make this dress perfect? An all-white backdrop with just tiny pink accents-”

Maria turned to her eagerly, and then the screen door from the kitchen slapped and Brenda stepped onto the porch, invading from the house. “Well, here I am, Evie,” she said, looking like she hadn’t slept well. “What was so important?” She caught sight of Agnes and smiled, looking predatory. “Agnes, sugar, you had the front door open again, and you know that’s bad for my clock, so I just closed it for you. And you’ve got a big ol’ truck coming across the bridge, too. Is that a good idea?”

“It’s about time you got that clock out of my hall,” Agnes said, and watched Brenda’s face sharpen, and then a beat later, she thought, A truck? The bridge can’t support a truck. “No,” she said, and started for the door, only to be blocked by Brenda, staring at Maria’s dress.

“Where did you get that?” Brenda said to Maria.

“It’s your wedding dress, Grandma,” Maria said, smiling bravely. “I’m wearing it for my wedding.”

“My wedding dress?” Brenda said, her pretty face darkening.

“Where’s my Italian lace? Where’s my bouffant sleeves? Where’s my goddamn hoop skirt?”

The same place as your goddamned morals, you worthless tramp. “It’s been modernized, Brenda,” Agnes said. “When you pass something on to someone else, you have to expect changes. You don’t get it back.”

Brenda glared at Agnes. “I can expect my wedding dress to stay my goddamn wedding dress.”

“Ma, it’s beautiful,” Lisa Livia said. “Evie and her dressmaker worked on it all night. We’re really grateful. All of us.”

Brenda turned on her, glaring. “Well, I’m not grate-”

The air was split with the sound of honking, frantic honking, as if a giant duck were being turned inside out, and Agnes said, “What the hell?” and shoved Brenda out of the way to see what was going on.

There was a deliveryman on her back lawn setting loose a large pink bird.

“What is that?” Agnes went out through the screen door and down toward the bird as it broke free of its crate and bolted for the river. It was at least five feet tall, and while she actually did know what it was, she was having trouble accepting the fact.

“Delivery for Maria Fortunato and Palmer Keyes,” the delivery-man said, giving up on catching the bird. “They here?”

“Maria!” Agnes yelled, but Maria was right behind her. “Did you order a flamingo?”

“No,” Maria said, staring at the bird as it loped, honking, toward the water, but she signed for it when the uniformed chinless wonder with the blond crew cut jabbed the clipboard at her. Then he handed her an envelope and drove off, leaving the crate and the bird behind as he made Agnes’s bridge groan again in his getaway.

“That’s a flamingo,” Lisa Livia said, coming up behind them as Maria opened the envelope, and Agnes said, “Yes, it is,” staring in equal disbelief.

“It’s a wedding gift from Downer,” Maria said, reading the papers from the envelope, and her inflection on “Downer” told them all they needed to know about how she felt about Palmer’s best man. “Its name is Cerise.”

“What in God’s name?” Doyle said, and Agnes turned to see him and Garth crossing the lawn, gaping at the bird, which was still honking frantically, now knee deep in the Blood River.

“Flamingo,” she told him. “How’s that house painting coming?”

“We need sprayers,” Garth said. “That’s a flamingo. Hot damn.”

“They eat shrimp,” Maria said, still reading the papers. “What are we going to do with a flamingo?” Her voice quivered on flamingo, and Agnes realized that after the dress and her grandmother, the big pink bird was probably the last straw.

“Jimbo can get us all the shrimp we want,” Garth said, and Agnes took the papers out of Maria’s hands and gave them to him.

“You are now chief flamingo wrangler,” she told him. “Take care of Cerise until we figure out where she belongs so we can send her back. Feed her lots of shrimp. Maybe that will shut her up.”

“Cool,” Garth said.

“And paint the house,” Agnes added.

“On it,” Garth said, and was gone.

Agnes turned to Maria. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, honest to God, and the flamingo will be gone by your wedding, I swear.”

Maria nodded, trying to smile, and then Agnes turned to the rest of the group, raising her voice to be heard above the honking.

“So, who’s for a mint julep?” It wasn’t quite ten yet, but it was definitely turning into a drink-your-brunch day. If Cerise didn’t shut up soon, she was going to get a julep, too. With a syringe if necessary.