“The white arches need to go beside the garden rose bushes,” Claire told the workers, her voice carrying clearly across the quiet street.

“And make sure the silver ribbon is wrapped tight around every post.”

She touched her collarbone with two fingers while she spoke, nodding toward the grass.

“It’s all silver and white,” I said.

“Just like the cardstock on the invitation he sent.”

“Look at the porch,” Edward said.

Three large wooden crates sat stacked beside the front door, each marked with heavy red shipping stickers.

“What are those crates?” I asked.