'The color blue,' I repeated, unenlightened. 'What do you think of blue, dear?' my mother asked. I flung open all the windows and gazed fondly at my unlit forge and my ironworking tools. Muttering 'Peacocks!' under my breath, I stumbled through a quick shower, grabbed some coffee, and went into my studio. And did Rob, who shared my penchant for late hours, realize how much of a morning person Samantha was? Eventually, I managed to cut short her monologue and sign off. I wondered, not for the first time, if I should feel sorry for Rob or if he was actually looking forward to listening to her for the rest of his life. Oh, Meg, you're just so wonderful at all this!' I'm sure Father would be perfectly happy to buy them if necessary, but I'm not sure what we would do with them in the long run.' I noted 'Rent/buy if necessary' after 'Peacocks.' 'Were you thinking of buying or renting them?' I asked, interrupting Samantha's oration on the charms of peacocks. I let her rattle on while I fumbled over the contents of my bedside table, found my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe, flipped to the appropriate page, and wrote 'Peacocks' in the clear, firm printing I use when I am not in a very good mood. Don't you remember the weekend before last when we all had dinner with your father? And he was saying what a pity it was that nothing much would be blooming in the yard in August, so there wouldn't be much color? Well, I just saw a photo in a magazine that had peacocks in it, and they were just about the most darling things you ever saw. 'They'll just be there, adding grace and elegance to the occasion.

'We're not going to do anything with them,' Samantha said, impatiently. Surely that wasn't what she had in mind, was it? 'What are we going to do with them at the wedding?' I suppressed a shudder at the thought of peacocks, roasted with the feathers still on, gracing the buffet table. 'I see,' I said, although actually I didn't. As far as Samantha was concerned, the entire universe revolved around her upcoming wedding, and as maid of honor, I was expected to share her obsession. 'I just called to tell you that we need some peacocks.'

'Oh, don't be silly, Meg,' the voice continued. I opened one eye to peer at the clock: it was 6:00 A.M.

'I beg your pardon, you must have the wrong number,' I mumbled. I HAD BECOME SO USED TO HYSTERICAL DAWN PHONE CALLS THAT I only muttered one halfhearted oath before answering.

Murder With Peacocks by Donna Andrews