The invitations had been by phone.

Logan had probably meant to mention it.

Thirty-two people.

Cousins from Riverside.

Her book club.

My father-in-law’s two brothers.

The woman who had done her hair for twenty years.

Everyone we knew, essentially.

And it was Wednesday.

“Paige,” I said.

“How long have you known?”

She didn’t answer for a moment.

“Since Sunday,” she said.

“I assumed you were coming.