“Even if Mrs.

Victoria Mendoza demands to drive straight across the lawn?” Marcus asked.

“Especially then,” I said.

“Every car is to be guided up the blue gravel drive straight to the inner black iron gates.”

Samuel cleared his throat softly before giving the numbers.

“The head caterer needs a final headcount for the formal service within thirty minutes.”

“Tell him thirty-two place settings,” I said.

“Unpack the white porcelain and the gold-rimmed glassware with the Varela crest.”