All that was a piece of cake.

It was the hands-on meddling that Edie hated. She didn’t have to do it for her mother. Over the years Mona had certainly learned to take care of herself. And if she made mistakes, she had the clout to make them go away.

Rhiannon was another story.

Rhiannon was young and vulnerable, emotional and flighty. She was also genuinely kind and loving. It was a scary combination. Making sure Rhiannon had lots of projects to keep her focused was the best way to be sure she didn’t sabotage herself, her life or her career.

Ordinarily Edie could manage that by keeping her sister’s calendar booked, and she never had to leave California to do it.

But Mona had rung two days ago from Mont Chamion and said, “Pack your bags.”

When her mother spoke in that brisk no-nonsense tone, Edie knew not to argue. Where Rhiannon was concerned, Mona’s instincts were almost always spot on. If she foresaw trouble, it was better to tackle it head-on than to hope it might not happen. So Edie had dutifully flown halfway around the world ready to put out whatever potential fire might erupt.

But she hadn’t expected to attend the wedding.

“Why ever not?” Mona had demanded. “Of course you’re coming to the wedding. And the reception,” she’d added firmly. “God only knows what mischief Rhiannon can get up to there—especially now that Very Nice Andrew is gone.”

Very Nice Andrew—long-suffering Andrew was how Edie thought of him—was Rhiannon’s fianc'e. Her first love, he was absolutely right for Rhiannon, and they both seemed to know it—most of the time. When he and Rhiannon were together and blissful, Edie’s life was relatively blissful, too.

But a lovers’ quarrel had sent Andrew stalking out yesterday. And Mona was right, disaster could easily ensue if Rhiannon was left feeling unappreciated and unloved.

But still Edie had protested that she wasn’t attending the wedding.

“Of course you are,” Mona had said firmly that afternoon as she’d slipped into the gown she was wearing for the wedding and motioned for Edie to lace the back panel. It was a simple sheath, royal blue, setting off Mona’s amazing eyes, with an open V at the back which, as Edie laced it, offered a glimpse of Mona’s still-creamy flesh. It was quietly sexy and titillating, showing just enough to remind the world that, at fifty, Mona Tremayne was still a very appealing woman.

“I’m not invited.” Edie pulled the laces together. “And I’m not crashing a royal wedding.”

Mona’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “Nonsense. You’re not crashing. You’re my guest.”

“Oliver is your guest.”

Sir Oliver Choate, English actor and Mona’s most recent costar, had flown in from Spain yesterday afternoon expressly to escort Mona to the wedding.

“Besides Oliver,” Mona said impatiently. “You need to be there. And you might meet someone …” Her voice trailed off, but she looked at Edie hopefully.

Edie’s teeth set. Exactly what she’d been afraid of. Mona—matchmaking. She gave a long-suffering sigh of her own. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone, Mother.”

“Don’t call me Mother in public,” Mora admonished. “You’re nearly thirty, for goodness’ sake!”

Edie laughed and shook her head, then gave an extra tug to the laces, making her mother suck in a sharp breath. “We’re not in public, and I don’t think they have the bedrooms bugged. Besides, you don’t get parts for ingenues anymore. People know how old you are.”

Mona sighed, then stood up a bit straighter. “I try not to think about it. Anyway—” she shoved a hand into her artfully windblown auburn hair “—you must come—even if you don’t meet a soul,” she added piously. Then she spoiled it by saying, “But honestly, Edie, you need to get back on the horse.”

Start dating again, she meant. Get a life again. Get over Ben.

But Edie didn’t want to get over him. Why should she? Her husband, Ben, had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. And yes, he had been dead two and half years. But so what?

“I did,” Mona pointed out, not for the first time.

“And how did that work out for you?” Edie said dryly.

Edie’s father, Joe, had been killed in a horse riding accident when Edie was five. He’d been the love of Mona’s life, and she’d spent the next twenty years trying to replace him with a succession of men who’d become Edie’s stepfathers.

“I have wonderful children,” Mona said, defiantly meeting her daughter’s eyes in the mirror.

That was certainly true. Edie couldn’t complain about her younger brothers and sisters. In fact Rhiannon, Grace, Ruud and Dirk were the best part of her life, the family that had become for her the one she and Ben had never had.