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Time slowed to an excruciating drawn-out waiting, freeze-framed, advancing one slow-motion frame at a time. Flick. Did Esther have cancer? Flick. Was it malignant? Flick. How serious?
It was difficult to be enthusiastic about the wedding. Had anyone noticed? She hung back on printing the wedding invitations, and she’d checked the cancellation terms for the caterer. There was minimal penalty as long as she gave them six weeks’ notice.
On Wednesday morning, one week after her discovery of the lump, Esther found a hand-delivered card in the mailbox. Who would be writing to her? She tore open the envelope and scanned to the bottom to check the signature. Gina. Guilt flooded over her—she hadn’t dared stand up to Dad about Gina being a bridesmaid. She’d chickened out of talking to her direc
