Celeste woke early. The sky outside her window was the same winter gray it had been all week, even and dull. She chose a simple breakfast and ate it at the small table by the window. She didn't rush. The day would be long enough without hurrying.
At eight, the house stirred. Vans rolled up the drive. Florists carried in white lilies. The quartet arrived and tuned in short phrases that rose and stopped. Servants moved chairs and laid out place cards. The ballroom lights were tested and then left off to save the effect for later. The place had a schedule, and everyone kept to it.
Celeste kept to hers. She bathed. She dried her hair. She put on a robe and sat at the vanity while Emily worked with a calm hand. Emily fixed the curls and the thin pins and kept her talk to simple things: the mu
