Chapter 8
THE BRIDAL CHORUS might be the most wonderful thing I’ve heard all day. I’ve just reached the makeshift altar when the first strains fill the Springside Community Center ballroom.
Nigel is a statue as he waits for Sadie to walk down the aisle. Only the slight tapping of fingertips against his thigh betrays his true state. His pure white hair matches his tuxedo shirt, and the tux itself looks tailor-made for him.
And then there’s his brother. I sneak a glance at Malcolm and feel my cheeks burn brighter than my dress. He’s always pulled together, but this takes it up a level. His hair gleams like ebony, and between the jacket, shirt, and bowtie, he looks as if he’s stepped out of a fashion magazine. I predict there will be a long line of women at the reception wanting to dance w
