““Jefferson and I bring up the rear, leading the wagon, which is loaded with our bags, and Peony and Sorry, who seem relieved to be let out of the stable. It’s our first private moment together since the walk back to Portsmouth Square the other day. “I think Becky’s forgotten about the wedding dress,” I tell him. Softly, so there’s no chance of Becky overhearing. “Not a chance,” he says. “How can you be sure?” “Well, this is Becky we’re talking about.” “Good point.” “Also, she asked Henry if he’d be willing to help me find a proper suit.” “Really?” “I tried to dissuade him, but without luck. He knows just the place. And he’s certain he knows just the color for me.” “What color is that?” “I’m pretty sure he said plum.” “Plum?” “Plum. Which, until that moment, I could have sworn was a fruit.” I want to ask if any other colors were mentioned, but it’s a very short parade route and we have arrived at our destination, which is the Charlotte.””
