someone asked Diane at the door.
“Change of plans,” Diane said with a smile that looked like it had been nailed on. “We wanted something more intimate.”
The explanation never had a chance.
Not with sixty people whispering.
Aunt Carol arrived at 1:15 and found her husband by the makeshift dessert table—a card table holding a Walmart sheet cake and a bowl of mints.
She told him everything.
Who paid.
How much.
Why the venue disappeared.
He told his brother.
His brother told his wife.
She told the woman
