April brought the first genuinely warm days to Ashford Hollow, snowmelt swelling Coldwater Creek and the mountain slopes blushing green in patches that made the whole valley feel, to Wren, like it was exhaling after a long, difficult winter right alongside her.
The dress fitting happened in Charlotte, the nearest city with a bridal shop Rachel deemed worthy of the occasion, and Wren stood on a small pedestal in a gown of ivory silk, watching her own reflection with an unfamiliar, dizzying happiness while Rachel and Birdie sat on a nearby settee, both dabbing at their eyes with matching, undisguised sentimentality.
"You look like yourself," Rachel said, voice thick. "That's the thing I keep noticing, watching you these past months. You look like the sister I actually recognize, not the ca
