“Peter is out shopping with his mother for the tablecloths for the
reception,” her mother said. “Margaret isn’t due by until this
evening for supper.”
“What reception?” he tested.
“The wedding reception of course. What other reception would
a fiancé be planning for?”
He glanced around the house. It did seem awfully quiet, and he
didn’t think the mother would lie about something like this. He
gave Jessica a wary look. “You’re engaged?”