My mother’s voice was quiet but excited. “Sarah, honey, I know you’re with Margaret today, but I needed to tell you—the package arrived. It’s even more beautiful than we hoped.”
Relief washed over me so hard I almost laughed.
“That’s wonderful,” I whispered. “I’ll stop by later.”
When I hung up, Margaret was watching me with narrowed suspicion.
“A package?” she asked. “Something for the wedding?”
“Just something my mother wanted me to see,” I said carefully.
Margaret’s gaze sharpened. “Sarah, you’re not planning to make any major decisions without consultation, are you?”
I forced my voice calm, summoning every ounce of patience I used with five-year-olds who refused to share crayons.
“I appreciate everyone’s time today,” I said. “But I think I need time to reflect.”
Margaret looked affronted. “We haven’t found anything suitable yet.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I need time.”
David met me in the parking lot afterward, because he had promised he would. He took one look at my face and pulled me into a hug.
“How bad was it?” he asked softly.
“Imagine being graded on your existence,” I said, my voice cracking. “And the rubric is ‘Thompson-worthy.’”
David exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.”