Behind me, I heard Daniel say my name.
I kept walking.
In the restroom, I stood before an enormous mirror surrounded by soft golden lights.
White frosting clung to my hairline.
A smear of blue icing had settled into the delicate beading near the neckline of my dress.
I’d spent three afternoons shopping for that dress.
It was the first formal gown I’d bought since my husband, Richard, died.
I’d chosen pale blue because he’d always said it made my eyes look brighter.
Now I was standing in a hotel restroom trying to remove cake from the fabric with damp paper towels.
A woman entered behind me.
She was one of Vanessa’s aunts, someone I’d met only briefly at the rehearsal dinner.
She paused when she saw me.
“Oh, Eleanor.”
I smiled weakly.
“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”
She approached the sink.
“That was a terrible thing to do.”
I looked at her reflection.
“Did you think it was funny?”
“No.”
“Then I’m glad at least one person understood.”
She hesitated.
“I wanted to say something, but everyone seemed so surprised.”
I turned back to the mirror.
“Yes. They did.”
She handed me a clean towel from the attendant’s counter.
I thanked her.
After several minutes, I’d removed most of the frosting.
The stain on the dress remained.
I stopped rubbing it before I damaged the fabric further.
