Still clutching her BlackBerry as she stared out the window, Hannah looked down and saw a missed call. Rob.

She selected “call back” and watched as Rob’s number lit up for the third time that day. Her stomach flipped when she heard him pick up, already laughing into the receiver.

“Don’t laugh. I need you,” Hannah whispered loudly, prompting Dawn to throw her a judgmental glance from the couch. “Please. There are women here who are trying to assault me with eyeliner. Isn’t there any way you can just hop a flight now, at the last minute? You’d be here before the end of the reception. I’ll split the cost, whatever it is.”

“I do love it when you beg, but no, my dear, I can’t leave Austin.” Rob paused and added more thoughtfully, “It’s not the money. There’s just something off about Liz today. I can’t leave her alone in the house.”

“Fine. Maybe I’ll call you later,” Hannah said, hanging up before he could respond. Her posture sank as she abandoned hope that Rob might change his mind.

Hannah walked from the window back to Dawn, who had just covered herself with powder that was two shades darker than her face. Hannah sat down beside her and nervously stroked the buttons on her BlackBerry, peering down at it every few seconds to check for missed calls from Rob or Natalie Portman’s agent’s assistant.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah could see Bee in the adjoining room, smoothing the lines of her gown, which was still on a hanger. It was a fitted, strapless, ivory dress with a scalloped-pattern bodice that reminded Hannah of a mermaid and a small train that opened up like a fan. Bee had explained to Hannah months ago that she’d hoped to wear her mother’s wedding dress, a simple chiffon A-line gown that had been preserved in a garment bag in Donna’s closet for almost three decades, but when she tried it on, she couldn’t zip it up. Donna had always been a size 4, and although Bee struggled to maintain that size during her college days, she was now content with being a size 6.

Now Bee wore nothing but white lace underwear, a strapless bra, and control-top pantyhose that shrunk her silhouette by about an inch. The waist of the nylons extended past her belly button like a bodysuit. Her hair was twisted into a bun made of braids, which to Hannah looked dreadfully uncomfortable and inappropriately severe.

Hannah adored Bee’s strawberry locks, especially when they were loose at her shoulders, tousled and light. She never understood why brides always wore their hair in complicated, tightly pinned patterns. It reminded Hannah of the way the dead look at wakes—overly made up and unrecognizable to the people who knew them best.

Bee was surrounded by the two other bridesmaids, Jackie and Lisa, who, like Hannah, were already in their long black gowns, with their hair ironed straight. They were discussing the best way to get Bee into her wedding dress without scuffing it or endangering her princess coiffure.