“And take your time,” I added as he closed the shower curtain. “As long as you’re in there, nobody else can force me out of this bathroom.”

“I can’t do that,” Sébastien said from under pounding water. “Other people need to use this shower.”

Don’t panic, I told myself, hyperventilating in short moist puffs against the mirror. Don’t panic. If you’re ten minutes late, that’s normal. This is France; if you’re on time, nobody will be there. I looked around for the worry-stone, but it had disappeared. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Did you ever talk to Bruno about doing the first reading, Sébastien?” I checked.

Dead silence from under the shower. Sébastien poked his soap-sudsed head between the curtain and the shower wall and stared at me. “No.”

Bruno was going to kill us. “Go find him as soon as you get out of the shower, and tell him to start practicing. Apologize profusely.”

“It’s 10:10,” Mamie said.

“I—know.” I paused between words to school any shortness out of my voice and reminded myself that she had spent a couple of hours yesterday evening making a beautiful bouquet as a surprise for me. And telling me that they predicted hail all day today, but still. I tried not to look out the window at the gray skies.

“I’m out,” Sébastien said. “Can I have the mirror to shave, Laura?”

I had everything on but my lipstick and didn’t want to do it in front of the dark, tarnished mirror because it was permanent and I had lost the oil that took it off. I was now breathing in short, tiny bursts, but no one noticed, of course. Twelve people all trying to get ready, who had time to notice? Éric, who had gotten ready in five minutes and was now sitting on the couch watching the rest of us, raised his eyebrow at me. “Laura, don’t you think you should put on your dress? We have to leave.”

I stared at him, and at Jean-Charles, who was busy knotting his tie, and at Claudine, still in a bra and towel, doing her makeup in a tiny hand mirror she had cleverly thought to bring with her. I was getting married, for God’s sake, even if it was for the third and fourth time. Were my father-in-law and the groom’s best friend just going to watch me change into my wedding dress and the special corset-style bra that had to be worn with it?

“It’s 10:25,” Mamie said.

I burst into tears, picked up my wedding dress, and threw it across the room, and in front of everyone, began stripping off my clothes. “Everybody keeps telling me what time it is, and no one will let me get dressed! No one will help me!” I bawled.