It was a young woman in a black venue polo shirt with a headset around her neck.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But there’s a woman downstairs asking about the wedding cake. She wants to know if it arrived okay.”
She checked her clipboard.
“She says her name is Laura.”
David went pale.
“She’s here?”
He was out the door before anyone could stop him. I heard him taking the old wooden stairs two at a time.
I followed him.
Emma followed me, barefoot, in her robe, with half her hair done.
At the bottom of the stairs was the main entrance of the barn. Big double doors propped open to the gravel parking lot. Sunlight pouring in.
A woman was standing just inside the doors.
She was about my age. Maybe a few years younger. Dark pants. A cream silk blouse. Short brown hair. She was holding her purse in front of her with both hands, like a shield.
