She woke early to prepare breakfast, although Iris was too excited to eat more than a few bites. The dress hung carefully in the bedroom, the flowers had been arranged, and the camera battery was fully charged. Claire had even cleaned the living room so they could take photographs before leaving.
When Iris finally emerged in her dress, Claire stopped moving.
Advertisement
For a moment, she saw the little girl who used to run into her bedroom wearing mismatched shoes and ask whether she looked beautiful. Now Iris stood before her, elegant and confident, with her hair styled and a delicate corsage resting against her wrist.
« Oh, sweetheart, » Claire whispered. « You look absolutely beautiful. »
Iris smiled, but her eyes grew misty.
« Do you really think so? »
« I know so. »
Claire took photographs from every possible angle. Iris laughed when her mother insisted on another picture, but she patiently posed each time. Beneath the excitement, Claire felt a familiar ache. She wished Iris’s father could have seen her standing there, ready to experience one of those moments parents imagine long before their children are old enough to understand them.The thought came and went before Claire allowed herself to dwell on it.
At precisely six o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Ryan stood on the porch holding a bouquet of flowers. He wore a dark suit, a neatly pressed shirt, and a small boutonniere that matched the flowers he had brought for Iris. He greeted Claire politely, complimented Iris’s dress, and waited while Claire took a few more photographs.
