“I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this,” Jasmine had groaned when she’d called to tell her about the wedding. “Mother, please tell me you’re joking?”

“Would it be a good joke, at least?” Marsha had asked hopefully.

But Jasmine’s unhappiness had come through the phone lines loud and clear. “No. It’s a disaster. But...you are gonna think about this a little more, right? I mean, it’s not like you’ve already set a date or anything, have you?”

“Well, actually,” Marsha had screwed up her eyes, bit her lip and let the other shoe drop. “We have. We’re getting married on Twelfth Night. And I’d like you to be my Maid of Honor.”

Shocked silence hummed along the line for almost a minute. Marsha opened her eyes to find Sam regarding her steadily, with a look that managed to convey both his sympathy for her unhappiness and his annoyance with her daughter for having been its cause. It was a look that only added to Marsha’s dismay.

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