Chapter 2

My mother's hand shook once.

She didn't say a word. She snatched the phone from me and hit redial.

Busy.

Again. Still busy.

The third time, it connected.

"William, this is Cara's aunt."

"Auntie, let me explain—"

"You shut your mouth."

"My daughter got up at four in the morning to have her makeup done. Three hours without a sip of water, standing this whole time in a gown that weighs fifty pounds.

And you want her to take it off and cram onto the subway?"

"Auntie, Cara hurt her foot—"

"What does her foot have to do with my daughter? Does she not have hands? Can't she call an ambulance? Is every hospital in Bayport waiting on her alone?"

The line went quiet for a second.

Then Cara's voice came again.

"Auntie, I'm sorry... it's all my fault... I never should have troubled Will..."

She talked and cried at the same time, sobbing until she could barely breathe.

William panicked. "Cara, don't cry! None of this is on you!"

Then he lowered his voice at my mother. "Auntie, Cara's had no family since she was little. My mom has always treated her like her own daughter.

She's alone at the airport, her foot's swollen so badly she can't walk. I can't just leave her."

"And my daughter?"

"The subway's fast, I promise I'll be at the hotel before eight-thirty."

"You promise?" My mother let out a cold laugh.

"You handed off the motorcade for your own wedding to another woman. What exactly can you promise?"

She hung up.

She turned to me, and the tears came all at once.

"You're not marrying him."

"Mom..."

"Don't 'Mom' me!" She gripped my hand.

"Look at how he's treating you! On your wedding day! In front of five hundred guests! He took the motorcade to wait on another woman!

Are you marrying into that family to be a wife, or to be walked all over?"

Footsteps came from the doorway.

My father walked in.

He was in his black suit, the gold father-of-the-bride boutonniere pinned to his chest, his dress shoes polished to a shine.

Since early morning he'd had cigarettes and candy laid out in the lobby downstairs, waiting for the wedding motorcade to arrive.

The neighbors had been gathered downstairs since six-thirty, taking it all in.

It was seven-twenty now.

"Is the motorcade here?"

No one answered.

He looked at my mother's red, swollen eyes, then at me.

"What happened?"

My mother told him the whole thing.

When she finished, nothing in his face changed.

He only reached up, slowly, and unpinned the boutonniere from his suit.

Then he picked up his phone and dialed William.

"Sir! Don't worry, eight-thirty at the latest."

"Bring the motorcade back here. Now."

"Sir, Cara—"

"I don't care who Cara is."

My father's voice was level. Level enough to frighten you.

"Today you're here to marry my daughter, not to chauffeur some other woman."

"Sir, Cara's like a sister to me. She's all alone out there—"

"She's alone with two hands and two feet. My daughter's been waiting at home more than three hours, and you couldn't spare her a single car."

"It's not that I wouldn't, there just wasn't time!"

"There wasn't time?" My father's voice finally rose.

"When you were driving my daughter's dowry motorcade all over the city, where was 'there wasn't time' then?"

The motorcade was part of her dowry, twelve Rolls-Royce Phantoms, every one of them paid for by my father.

He'd said that when his daughter married, the show would not be outdone by anyone.

And right now those twelve cars were carrying Cara down the road to the hospital.

The line was silent for a few seconds.

William's voice dropped low. "Sir, I was wrong. I'll turn the cars around right now."

"Don't bother."

My father said it, and hung up.

He turned to face me, his eyes rimmed red, but not one tear fell.

"Elisa. Marry him or don't. It's your call."