Chapter Twenty-OneIt was a Saturday full of sunshine and perfect for a wedding. Flora sat at her dressing table, gazing into the mirror.
“What do you think, Max? Peach or pink?”
“Hmm?” Max was standing in front of the full-length mirror, twirling his tie into a fancy knot.
“Lipstick Max, I mean lipstick,” she turned to face him, the silver fascinator in her hair catching the light, “never mind.”
Their bedroom door squeaked open and in rushed Esme, a mini whirlwind that leap-frogged over the floor rug, gambolled across the wooden flooring and skidded to a halt beside Flora.
“Don't you look beautiful,” Exclaimed Flora, making room on the seat for her to clamber onto. Esme gazed into the mirror, twirling her hair around one finger and patting her reflection with the other hand. Hema had
