PART 3

Outside, the late-afternoon air smelled of wet leaves and rosemary.

Our photographer, Elise, was gathering everyone beneath the ancient maple tree for family portraits.

Marcus’s cousins were carrying trays of cider from the reception tent.

I wanted five minutes to breathe and enjoy being married before someone asked me to fix anything.

“Clara,” Dad called behind us.

Marcus stopped, but he did not answer for me.

Frank, who had come through the doors just ahead of us, looked from Dad to me and stepped aside.