I touched my collarbone and searched the faces for my son.

I headed toward a big white catering tent on the left side of the yard.

I saw a tall man in a light gray suit standing beside an enormous glass vase of white orchids.

“I’m looking for Ethan,” I said.

The man frowned deeply.

He looked down at the grubby canvas grocery tote in my hand.

He took a long, careful step back, holding his champagne glass out of my reach.

“I need to find the groom, please,” I said.