9
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, after Shane and Doyle left, Lizzie begged Fianna to look at her dress and give her an honest opinion.
“What do you think, Fianna?” With great effort, Lizzie swung around in her bedroom. As she did, the full, tiered skirt and train of her blindingly-white wedding gown swooshed behind her and caught on an occasional table.
Fianna lunged and caught an antique Tiffany lamp before it tumbled to the hardwood floor. “It’s enormous. It reminds me of Princess Diana’s wedding dress. Remember the trouble she had with her gown?”
Lizzie’s lower lip trembled, giving her the appearance of a fidgeting rabbit. Her eyes were rimmed in pink and her pale golden-strawberry hair was piled onto her head in a messy bun. She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands. “It’s h
