We both started giggling. On some level, it did feel as if we’d pulled a fraternal-twin Freaky Friday without anyone else noticing.

“It’s going to be perfect, Lace,” I said. “Small and simple sounds beautiful.”

“Exactly. Besides, it’s the marriage that matters,” Mom said. “My wedding was a nice day, but my marriage was a great life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you girls.”

Eleanor was substantially more confuzzled.

“She’s getting married…in a room?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I mean, technically a church is also a room,” I said.

“It’s so ordinary.” Eleanor turned the word over in her mouth less like an insult than a marvel. “I’ve never been to a wedding like that. Won’t it look like some sort of business conference? Is there even an aisle? She might as well get married in Heathrow.” She tilted her head. “I should offer my presence. To make it festive.”

I laughed, and Eleanor looked offended.

“Did you seriously just say that?” I asked. “You can’t stand my sister.”

Eleanor leaned back against the cushions of the mint-green sofa in her sitting room and glared at me. “You don’t need to like a person to attend their wedding,” she said. “And this has at long last made her interesting to me.”

“You never did give Lacey any credit,” I said.

“When exactly did she earn any?”

“The last few years were as weird for her as they were for any of us,” I said to her doubtful face. “I think we’re all finally growing up, or at least growing out of it. People change.”

“No, they don’t,” Eleanor said. “They simply change costumes. Underneath, they’re who they always were.”

“You’re using a blender in your sitting room to make exotic margaritas,” I argued. “That’s change.”

“That’s a post-coma reawakening,” Eleanor pointed out. “Besides, you of all people should know about costumes.”