Instead, I kept looking at those two chairs.
I stood under a warm June sky and told myself I was choosing happiness, not proving a point.
Harold squeezed my fingers.
"Don’t look at them, Maggie."
I tried not to.
Guests arrived. Ruth from church. My cousin Jean. A few old classmates. The officiant reviewed the order of service while I stood under a warm June sky and told myself I was choosing happiness, not proving a point.
Fifteen minutes before the ceremony, the garden gate opened.
Harold went pale. He moved toward her at once.
A woman stood there clutching a thick manila envelope to her chest. She was around my age, with Harold’s eyes and none of his calm. Her face looked exhausted.
"Maggie? Margaret?" she said. "Are your children here?"
Harold went pale.
He moved toward her at once.
"This isn’t the time."
Nora ignored him and came straight toward me.
