The bride went silent.
Evie touched the damp edge of her grocery bag with one shoe.
“She squeezed my shoulders.”
Her mother crouched.
“Anything else?”
Evie looked at Celeste.
The pearl at the neckline of the wedding dress caught the service light.
“She made me say sorry again because I didn’t sound sorry right.”
Celeste exhaled. “She had just ruined the photographs.”
The photographer looked at the screen.
“She didn’t.”
Celeste turned on him.
“What?”
“I photographed the veil getting caught. I photographed her freeing it. The shoe stain is barely visible in the wide shots, and it can be avoided in the close ones.”
The bride’s face reddened.
Nina placed the last straightened flower on the service table.
“The bouquet is fine too.”
Celeste stared at her.
Nina had removed the crushed outer petals and gathered the surviving stems. It was not perfect. It was still recognizable as the bouquet the bride had carried down the aisle.
Evie’s mother looked from the flowers to her sister.
“So what exactly did she ruin?”
Celeste’s mouth opened.
Footsteps sounded from the ballroom.
The groom appeared at the end of the corridor.
He was still wearing his jacket, though his tie had loosened. He had come looking for Celeste after a guest asked when the cake cutting would begin.
He saw Evie first.
Then the bouquet.
Then his wife’s expression.
“What happened?”
Celeste moved toward him. “Nothing. There was a mess with the flowers and everyone is turning it into something dramatic.”
Evie’s mother stood.
“No.”
The groom looked at her.
“She took Evie into this hallway, grabbed her, made her apologize for stepping in soil while saving the veil, and threw the bouquet at the door.”
Celeste laughed once. “That is absurd.”
Nina said, “I saw the bouquet hit the door.”
The photographer raised the camera slightly. “And I have the garden part.”
The groom looked at Celeste.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that the corridor contained witnesses she could not organize into one convenient version.
“Can I see it?” he asked.
Celeste reached for his arm. “Not now. We have a room full of guests.”
He pulled his arm away.
“Can I see it?”
The photographer played the clip again.
Evie watched her uncle’s face instead of the screen.
At first he looked confused.
Then embarrassed.
Then something harder.
When the clip ended, he asked Evie’s mother what happened inside.
She repeated it.
