Bluetooth speaker on the porch railing playing Spotify instead of the string quartet Jessica had chosen six months earlier.
And Gail standing in the middle of it all, mouth tight, watching her son get married somewhere completely different from the venue printed on every invitation.
Guests began arriving around one.
Most paused in the driveway a few seconds too long.
They looked down at Ren Valley Estate printed on their invitations.
Then at Diane’s vinyl-sided colonial.
Then at the garden hose curled beside the porch.
“What happened to the venue?”
