[Hazel]
“What do you mean Mrs. Walison is busy?” Elisabeth shot up from the antique rocking chair like it had stung her. Her voice cracked like a whip, slicing the quiet morning air. “What am I supposed to do now?”
The sharp edge of her fury dulled into a wild-eyed panic. Her hands flailed in front of her like she was trying to snatch the air for answers. “Does this… does this mean… my wedding is cancelled?”
Her voice trembled now. The panic was shifting. Morphing. I saw it take root in her chest and begin to bloom into something uglier—fear.
“What will my friends say?” Her gaze darted past me, as if imagining them all lined up with judgmental stares and condescending laughter. “They’ll mock me to hell, Hazel!”
And just like that—her breath hitched. Her voice lowered to a wounded whis
