"I think the theme of the wedding should be beige and purple. Or maybe maroon and white? Also, I was thinking we could hold the ceremony at St. John's Church—the same church Quin was baptized in," Quin's mother said, going on and on about how the wedding should be. Guest list. Menu. Decorations. Dress code. Flowers. Music. You name it.
"Mrs. McDaniel, the wedding isn't for another few months," I said, trying to get her to slow down.
"I know, dear, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. After all, this is going to be a huge event," she said, brushing off my concern. "And I've told you before, sweetheart—you're going to be my daughter-in-law soon. Drop the formalities. Call me Rose."
I smiled politely at the woman who, by all indications, was used to getting her way. The last thing I wanted
