It was Della’s wedding day. Right now she was in the beauty parlor, surrounded by the soft clatter of tools and the quick, practiced voices of two assistants. Della sat under the mirror’s bright light like a bride in a painting—only, she didn’t feel like herself. A heavy wave of sleepiness drifted over her.
Along with it came a strange sadness, like something wonderful was already slipping away.
Linda sat beside her—her closest friend—watching Della’s face the way you see a candle when you’re not sure it will stay lit. Della’s mother, Lucy, was handling everything on her own. She came in and out when she could, checking on Della like a glance from across a busy room—but she never had the time to stay.
So Lucy left Linda there with Della. Linda was gentle, steady, and kind. When she noti
