I never fully appreciated what the word whirlwind meant until my upcoming marriage to Garland Foxworth was confirmed. On an almost daily basis for a week afterward, something was delivered to our house for my mother to consider: menu items, flower arrangements that featured irises, and the biography of the minister whom Garland had chosen to perform the ceremony. He hoped that was all right, because this minister had married Garland’s parents. My mother thought that was sweet and illustrated how respectful of his parents’ memory Garland was. How could a man like that be anything but a devoted husband?

And then, the following weekend, Garland invited us all to Foxworth Hall. He even sent along our train tickets. My mother was all in a fluster, suddenly deciding that maybe her wardrobe indeed needed to be updated. After all, she was going to be constantly in the eyes of society now. Insecure about shopping for herself, she took Etta Benjamin and Louise Francis along on her search for new and appropriate clothes. For me, that was truly the blind leading the blind.

Even my father was surprised at how many new things she bought. We needed an extra suitcase, and only for a weekend. I wondered if we would visit Great-aunt Nettie. I was afraid Hazel might slip and tell my parents how Garland had upset me.

“Not this trip,” my mother said quickly. “We don’t want any unnecessary distractions. I can’t imagine inviting her to the wedding, but of course, we will.”

“And Hazel,” I said.

I didn’t mention Great-aunt Nettie’s dislike of the Foxworth family. If she thought about it, she probably wouldn’t want to attend, but Hazel would probably convince her she must. She’d keep her from saying nasty things. At least, I hoped she would.

My mother made a face but reluctantly agreed, saying she wouldn’t want the responsibility of looking after Nettie. She would certainly be too busy entertaining the guests. I looked at my father, who had just the slight imprint of a smile on his lips. My wedding was suddenly, probably as he and Garland had planned, becoming more important to my mother than anything or anyone.

She talked about it almost the entire train trip to Charlottesville, reminding my father about weddings they’d attended that lacked the proper attention to detail. Sometimes it sounded like she was talking more about her own wedding than mine. Parents did live vicariously through their children, I thought. That was why they wished everything would be better for them.

Lucas was waiting for us at the railroad station with the same fancy carriage in which I had been taken to Foxworth Hall that life-changing night.