Wedding Rows Read Free Page A

have a little refreshment while Violet makes a ghastly spectacle of herself associating with that charlatan. I was told to help myself.”
    Elizabeth eyed the mound of food. “So I see.”
    Martin wavered, then said bravely, “May I offer you a morsel or two?”
    “Thank you, Martin, but I think I’ll wait a while.” She glanced at the wedding cake, magnificent on its silver stand, and let out her breath in relief to find it untouched.
    As if reading her mind, Martin murmured, “I suppose we will have to wait for the bride and groom to cut the cake.”
    “That is customary, Martin.”
    “Yes, madam. I hope the ladies remembered to bring a knife. I can’t see one on the table.”
    “I would imagine they are waiting until they are ready to cut the cake.”
    As if in answer to her comment, a slight commotion turned her head. Wally was leading his bride toward the table, while behind him an urgent discussion appeared to be going on in the open doorway that led to the kitchen.
    Marge Gunther, an overly plump woman with frizzy hair, stood waving her hands in agitation, while Rita Crumm, hands on hips, towered over her with a ferocious glare. Florrie Evans, the most nervous member of the group, seemed to be trying to soothe ruffled feathers without much success.
    Martin mumbled something about getting a drink, but Elizabeth paid no attention to him. Obviously all was not well in the kitchen. Fortunately, the newly wedded couple seemed unaware of the commotion. Too wrapped up in each other to pay attention, no doubt.
    Determined to prevent anything from spoiling this big day, Elizabeth headed purposefully toward the militant group of women. They had now been joined by Joan Plumstone, a sour-faced woman whose seemingly sole purpose in life was to cast gloom and despair everywhere she went, and Nellie Smith, the youngest and sole unmarried member of the Housewives League, who’s amorous adventures were outwardly scorned and secretly envied by her peers.
    As Elizabeth approached, she heard Rita Crumm’s strident tones above the clamor of music from the inept band.
    “How can it be bloody missing, you twit? I saw it myself not half an hour ago.”
    “I don’t know.” Marge’s whine was no less audible and Elizabeth put on a spurt.
    “What on earth is going on here?” she demanded, in the most commanding voice she could muster.
    Florrie uttered a little shriek and slapped a hand over her mouth.
    Rita gave the startled woman a scathing glance, then turned to Elizabeth. “There is no need to concern yourself, your ladyship,” she announced haughtily. “I have everything quite under control.”
    Nellie’s laugh was blatantly derisive.
    Rita quelled her with one of her vicious scowls.
    “I would like to know what is causing this dispute,” Elizabeth persisted. She glanced back at the table, where the bridal couple was now poised in front of the cake, looking somewhat confused. “As you can see, Wally and Priscilla are about to cut the cake.”
    Joan moaned, while Florrie muttered nervously, “Oh, dear me.”
    “That’s the point, your ladyship,” Nellie said, with a defiant look at Rita’s enraged face. “The knife is missing, isn’t it.”
    Elizabeth stared at her in confusion. “You mean the knife to cut the cake?”
    Nellie nodded, while Joan moaned again.
    “Well, then, get another knife. There must be others in the kitchen.”
    “Lady Elizabeth, you don’t understand.” Rita stepped forward, her face a stony mask of annoyance. “This is a very special knife. Solid silver, mother-of-pearl handle, embedded with three diamonds. It was handed down by generations of my family, for the sole purpose of slicing a wedding cake. I agreed to lend it to Priscilla for the occasion. Apart from its value, it’s the only knife we have with a blade long enough to do the job properly.”
    “Bessie’s got a bread knife in there,” Nellie said helpfully. “I used it to slice the pork pie.”
    Rita rolled her eyes,