She reached up with her right hand and touched the silver link at her throat before turning back to the open car door.

Rowan climbed out behind her, smoothed the skirt of her lavender silk dress, and raised her left wrist.

“We arrived at ten fifty-eight,” Rowan said, looking straight at the hotel clock tower.

“That leaves two minutes before the ceremony starts.”

June stepped down next, carrying a small silver handbag that matched her cream dress.

She tilted her head to the left as she looked up at the high stone arches above the entrance terrace.

“The masonry on the pediment was cut from Westerly granite,” June observed softly, watching a waiter straighten a tray of water glasses.