The venue coordinator caught her near the entrance with a small, apologetic frown. There had been a phone call that morning—a man asking about the venue, saying he was expected. He wasn’t on the guest list. The coordinator had meant to follow it up and had simply forgotten. Helen thanked her. The detail sat in the back of her mind.
There was no time to pull at it. The music started. Helen walked herself down the aisle—her choice from the beginning, something she had felt quietly certain about, and when she saw Richard standing at the altar watching her, like she was the answer to something he had been working out for years, everything else dropped away.