Every one of the eight tables in Brock ’s backyard was decorated with a cream linen tablecloth. On top of that was sheer pink lace, and then the centerpieces added a touch of Natalie to the decorations. A round candle about six inches high sat in a hand-thrown pottery bowl. The bowl was half filled with water and lined with smooth river rocks. The candles flickered gently in the breeze that wasn’t strong enough to cool my glistening forehead. I always got overheated at events, running back and forth triple-checking things, but as I stopped to admire the setup, I had to admit it was perfect.
The tables had been placed among Brock’s wildflower and antique rose gardens. I admired the beautiful setting as I went on a hunt for a lighter. I’d used up the last of my matches relighting the candle
