Sarah mouthed, “I am going to kill you.”

Natalie gave her a wide-eyed look and mouthed back, “I’m sorry.”

“Do you like Gramma’s new house?” Lulu asked Natalie.

“It’s a lot different than the house we grew up in,” she answered vaguely. To Sarah she said, “I just don’t understand why every time Mom talks about how happy she is, she has to put Dad down. It’s like she has to make him awful in order to prove she’s better off now.”

“Um, I don’t think Mom is trying to be happy to get back at Dad. She is just trying to go on with her life.” Sarah gave her a concerned-sister look. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great. Why are you asking like that?”

“You aren’t using your happy voice,” Lulu said.

“No, you’re not,” Sarah agreed.

Natalie knew that it was Sarah’s nature to worry. And as much as she loved and respected her sister, they lived in different worlds. Sarah was a naturopath in Charlottesville and a mom. There was no way she could understand what Natalie was up against.

“I’m fine.” Natalie’s fingers itched to get back to her phone. “I just need to do a quick change before the hellebration starts.”

Her father would have understood. She looked at Cronkite and could swear he understood.

“What’s a hellebration?” Lulu asked.

“Something that starts in ten minutes sharp.” Sarah was speaking to her daughter, but Natalie got the message.

“Nearest bathroom?” Natalie asked as she pulled her bridesmaid dress out of the closet, then paused a moment to appreciate it. On the hanger, the look was macramé on top, tea cozy on the bottom.

“Whoa,” Natalie said.

“Not bad when you consider it’s made of soy, spandex, and bamboo,” said Sarah, adding, “Use the bathroom to the left. It has only three dream catchers.”

“Only three dr—?” Natalie broke off as Sarah nodded solemnly. “Oh. Oh my.”

“Yes. You don’t want to know about the bathroom down the hall.”

Natalie set the timer on her phone for five minutes as she headed to the bathroom on the left to fix her makeup. As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she gasped and thought her mother had a point. She looked like a drag queen after a long night out. Getting to work, she peeled off her fake eyelashes, pulled out her makeup brushes, and started toning down her fuck-me-now eye shadow.

With one eye still on her makeup, she started thumbing through the messages on her phone. It was mostly more friends and followers, but there was a text from Matt begging her to send a photo of herself in the bridesmaid dress, and another from Andrea, Ryan’s producer, that read, I might have something for you. Where can I find you this afternoon?