Excerpt from Scarlet Feather by Maeve Binchy, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"You took it on yourself," Muttie said.

"Please be polite to her, Cathy, I've found over all the years it's better to humor her."

"You did, Mam, you humored her all right," Cathy said grimly.

"But you won't start making a speech or anything, not tonight?"

"No, Mam. Relax. I agreed to do it, and if it kills me I will do it well and with a smile on my face."

"I wish Tom Feather was going with you, he'd put manners on you," Lizzie said.

"Neil will be there, Mam, he'll keep me in control." Cathy kissed them good-bye and practiced her smile as she drove to Oaklands.

Hannah Mitchell had contract cleaners these days, now that there was no more poor Lizzie to terrorize. Twice a week four women swept in, taking no nonsense from anyone, vacuuming, polishing, ironing and bringing their own equipment in a van. They charged time and a half for working on New Year's Eve. Hannah had protested at this.

"Up to you, Mrs. Mitchell," they had said cheerfully, in the knowledge that plenty of other people would be glad to have their house cleaned on a day like this. She gave in speedily. Things were definitely not like they used to be. Still, it had been worth it, the house looked very well, and at least she wouldn't have to lift a finger. That Cathy with all her grand notions was in fact able to serve a presentable meal. She would be coming shortly in that big white deplorable-looking van: even the women who came to clean the house twice a week traveled in a far more respectable vehicle. She would come into the kitchen huffing and puffing and throwing her weight about. Poor Lizzie's daugh- ter, behaving as if she owned the place. Which, alas, she probably would one day. But not yet, Hannah reminded herself with her mouth in a hard line.

Hannah Mitchell's husband Jock stopped on the way home from his office to have a drink. He felt he needed one before facing Hannah. She was always nervous and tense before a party but this time it would be magnified many times-she so hated having Neil's wife Cathy doing the catering for her. She had refused to accept that the couple were happy, well suited and unlikely to leave each other no matter how she schemed. Cathy would always be Poor Lizzie's daughter, and somehow a villain who had seduced their son in Greece. She had always believed that the girl had got pregnant deliberately to trap him, and been most surprised when this had proved not to be the case.

He drank his single-malt Scotch thoughtfully and wished that he didn't have to worry about this as well as everything else. Jock Mitchell had been severely disturbed by a conversation with his nephew Walter today. Walter, an idle layabout, the eldest son of Jock's brother Kenneth, had revealed that all was not well at The Beeches, his family home. In fact, things were very far from well. Walter said that his father had gone to England just before Christmas and had left no indication of his whereabouts. Walter's mother, not known to be a strong character, was reacting to this turn of events by a heavy reliance on vodka. The problem was their nine-year-old twins, Simon and Maud. What was happening to them? Walter had shrugged; he really didn't know. They were managing, he implied. Jock Mitchell sighed again.

As she arrived at Oaklands, Cathy heard her cell phone ring. She pulled in and answered.

"Hon, I'm not going to be there to help you unload," he apologized.

"Neil, it doesn't matter, I knew it would go on a bit."

"It's more complicated than we thought. Listen, ask my dad to help you in with all those crates, don't go dragging and pulling just to show my mother how wonderful you are."

"Oh she knows that," Cathy groaned.

"Walter should be there ..."

"If I were to wait for Walter to help me unload and set up, the party would be halfway through ... Stop fussing and go back to what you have to do."

Reprinted from Scarlet Feather by Maeve Binchy by permission of Dutton, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2001 by Maeve Binchy. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.