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sent me this ginormous bill for a ‘consulting fee.’ I reminded her how she said it was a present, but now she’s saying that she never said that, and if I don’t give her the money, she’ll sue us. I can’t say anything to Rufus because he’d be so mad at me for getting involved with Ginger in the first place. He hates her. Says he’s put people in jail who were less sneaky and underhanded than she is. I don’t know what to do. It ain’t like she needs my money. Her husband, Fox, is an oil exec and makes a bundle.”
    Beads of sweat on Vanessa’s forehead combined with her makeup and dripped beige blobs onto the white caftan she wore. “Here,” Maggie said, handing her a hand towel. Vanessa took it and dabbed her face. Maggie was discomfited by Van’s story. “This has to be some kind of misunderstanding. Why don’t you try talking to Ginger again? Worse comes to worse, you can play the premature labor card and see if she caves. It works with me.”
    Vanessa managed a weak smile. “It does, dudn’t it? But I don’t think Ginger would fall for it. She’s not as nice as you.” Maggie couldn’t help but be touched by Vanessa’s backhanded compliment. “Can I have a piece of paper?” the bride-to-be asked.
    “Sure.” Maggie ripped a sheet from a drawing pad and handed it to her. Vanessa pulled a pen out of her fake Louis Vuitton purse. She scribbled some words on the page andhanded it back to Maggie, who read it aloud. “‘Talk to Ginger for me.’”
    “It’s now one of your maid of honor duties,” Vanessa said. “Maybe the most important one.”
    Maggie was about to protest but changed her mind when she saw the look of desperation on Vanessa’s face. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
    “Thank you, thank you! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.” Vanessa hoisted herself up from her chair and hugged Maggie. “I gotta get to my gyno appointment. He’s on my case about gaining too much weight. That’s the problem with a male doctor. They’ve never been pregnant, so they don’t understand how it makes you crave donuts and fried food all the time.” Vanessa picked up her purse, walked over to Maggie’s canvas, and grimaced. “I look superpregnant.”
    “Van, you’re due in three weeks.”
    “Yeah, but I don’t have to look like that. You need to thin me out.”
    Vanessa left, and Maggie squelched the urge to paint horns and mustaches on the portrait’s subjects. She reminded herself that despite Van’s blunderings, she was a good person at heart and desperately wanted friends but had no idea how to make them. And the problems piling up on the bride-to-be certainly weren’t helping her mood or behavior.
    Maggie dunked her paintbrushes into a can of turpentine and wiped them off with a damp cloth. As she cleaned each brush, she thought about Vanessa’s dilemma with Ginger. There was probably a simple explanation. Still, Maggie couldn’t shake her sense of foreboding.
    Her cell phone rang. She pressed “Accept” when she saw the call was from Tug. “Hey, Dad.”
    “Can you come over to the main house?” Tug’s voice sounded grim.
    “Sure. Is everything okay?”
    There was a pause. Then Tug spoke, clearly choosing his words carefully. “We have a situation.”

Chapter Four
    Maggie found her father in the guest parking area with Ginger, Trent, and Bibi. All four were staring at Ginger’s Mercedes. Maggie noticed a pool of dark liquid underneath the car.
    “Hey, chère,” Tug greeted his daughter. “Ginger’s car seems to have sprung a leak.”
    “I ran over a rock in your driveway,” Ginger said. She was dressed in a cotton top and pants, both in her signature soft white. “It’s very upsetting. The car was in perfectly good shape until we got here, wasn’t it, Trent? Bibi?”
    “Yup,” Trent seconded.
    “I wouldn’t know,” Bibi said. “I drove here in my beater.”
    Tug rubbed his forehead. “I’ll call Bertrand’s garage for a tow. I’m