arrived.
She stepped out of a silver Mercedes in a pale pink dress and enormous sunglasses. She walked straight past the suitcases without looking at them and started directing people.
“Chairs here. Facing the door. Two rows. Leave an aisle.”
A young man from the rental company started unfolding white chairs on my lawn, in two neat rows facing my front door. Like a wedding. Like a ceremony.
Laurelai came up the porch steps. She stopped in front of me.
“Delia,” she said, with a tight smile. “I’m so glad
