“Grandma,” she said, and she looked older than twenty-six should look, tired and worn, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about the overcharges. I didn’t know Dad and Mom were planning to keep you out. I thought—” Her voice broke. “I thought you just didn’t want to come.”
“Did you look for me?” I asked quietly. “When I wasn’t there?”
She shook her head, ashamed. “Mom said you’d decided not to attend. That you were mad about something. I believed her. I should have called you, but—” She wiped her eyes. “I was so caught up in my perfect day that I didn’t even think about you until after the honeymoon.”
“That’s the problem, sweetheart,” I said gently. “You didn’t think about me at all.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’ve been thinking about it every day since the lawsuit. About how I used you. How I took you for granted. How I didn’t even invite you to my dress fitting or my bridal shower because Mom said it would be awkward.” She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “Can you ever forgive me?”