The wedding

Aunt Lydia had handed me the clipboard that morning with a quick, excited hug. “Sweetie, can you keep an eye on the exterior designers? Make sure the arch is centered and the flowers match the palette. You’re my rock today.” Her smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at it. I’d nodded, forcing enthusiasm into my voice, and spent the next few hours drifting between the garden tents, greeting distant cousins and great-aunts I hadn’t seen since Mom and Dad’s funeral. ...