Margaret’s smile tightened.
“I understand the emotional part.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
She ignored that.
“I’m thinking about the photographs.”
Silence.
I genuinely did not understand.
“What photographs?”
“The processional.”
“The wedding album.”
“The framed pictures.”
“All of it.”
Adrian went very still.
Margaret continued.
“If Ethan walks you, his face will be in virtually every important aisle photograph.”
I stared at her.
I kept waiting for another sentence that would somehow make the first one less ugly.
It did not come.
She continued carefully.
“You and Adrian will have these photographs for the rest of your lives.”
“So?”
“So perhaps you should think about what you want displayed.”
My pulse started pounding.
Adrian said:
“Mom, stop.”
Margaret looked irritated.
“I am not saying anything cruel.”
I almost laughed.
“What exactly are you saying?”
She looked at me.
Then toward Adrian.
Finally:
“I would prefer that the wedding photographs focus on the two of you.”
“They will.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“Say what you mean.”
Margaret looked uncomfortable now.
Good.
“I simply don’t want every image of Claire entering the chapel dominated by Ethan.”
There it was.
My brother’s name.
Finally.
