“Who wrote that?”
“The coordinator gave me this when I asked what time your dance would be. She said Sabrina requested a contingency plan early this morning.”
I looked at the paper.
The morning I’d woken up bald.
Before anyone at the wedding venue had seen me.
I folded the program carefully and placed it in my bag.
Then I asked Lucia to come home with me.
I didn’t want to be alone.
And I had finally understood what the shaving was supposed to accomplish.
Someone hadn’t merely wanted to embarrass me.
Someone had arranged the wedding to continue as though I wouldn’t be there.
By seven that evening, I was home.
Lucia helped me remove the remaining makeup and examine the marks on my scalp.
I’d already arranged a medical appointment to have the abrasions assessed.
I sat in my dressing room while she cleaned a small amount of dried blood near my hairline, following the advice I’d received.
Neither of us said much.
Then she picked up the ivory card.
“She put a heart on it,” Lucia murmured.
I looked at the tiny blue symbol beneath the cruel sentence.
“Yes.”
Lucia turned the card over.
“That’s what I can’t understand. Someone took the time to make it pretty.”
I watched her place it carefully inside a protective envelope.
At eight, Avery arrived.
He carried his laptop and a leather document case.
He had been my attorney for almost fifteen years, through business acquisitions, property sales, and the settlement of my husband’s estate.
He rarely looked surprised by anything.
But when I removed the scarf Lucia had wrapped around my head, he stared.
“Beatrice.”
I sat opposite him.
