Her eyes narrowed with pure hatred.

Her voice sank to a harsh, poisonous whisper.

“People like you have no place at a wedding.”

She turned sharply toward the big stone planter at the foot of the patio steps.

A thick green garden hose lay in a sloppy coil on the red bricks.

It was hooked up to a heavy brass spigot jutting out of the low stone wall.

Vanessa went over to the planter.