Chapter 24: Nobody Objects

The wedding was on a Saturday, at four in the afternoon, in my grandmother's garden.

Forty chairs stood in two rows on the frozen grass.

The thirty rose bushes on the back wall were still in bloom, white against the brick.

I stood in the kitchen doorway with the back door open, in a plain ivory dress I'd bought on Tuesday, and my hands would not stay still.

Claire fixed my collar for the third time.

"Stop," I said. "It's fine."

"It's not even." She was crying and smiling. "Hold still, I'm almost done."

Rosa sat on a blanket on the kitchen floor, chewing the corner of a napkin.

"Livia."

Mom stood in the hall, in a navy dress that was her own.

She had not been invited into the kitchen.

"I'll sit at the back," she said. "You don't have to look at me. I only wanted to be here."

I studied her face.

She had aged ten years in three weeks, and she didn't hide it.

"Sit in the third row," I said.

Her mouth opened.

"Not the front. The third row, on the aisle. Where I can see you're there."

"Livia..."

"It's not forgiveness, Mom. It's a seat."

"I'll take the seat," she said, and her voice shook.

She walked out into the garden.

Rocco came to the door in his black suit with his curly hair combed flat.

He offered me his arm.

"Ready?"

"I've been ready five times."

"Not like this," he said.

The garden was quiet, and everyone turned.

The lawyer sat in the second row, next to the oldest director of the board and his wife.

The notary sat behind them, in a brown suit, looking proud and astonished to have been asked.