Instead of standing around with the executives, he sat on the floor with the kids and read dinosaur adventure stories using ridiculous voices.
One shy little boy hid behind my knee.
Ethan quietly slid a stuffed dinosaur across the floor toward him like it was a secret mission.
The boy giggled.
Later in the hallway Ethan asked me where I bought my dinosaur earrings.
That’s how our conversation started.
Two years later he proposed during a quiet walk in a state park. Winter sunlight filtered through bare tree branches while he nervously held his grandmother’s ring.
I said yes before he even finished asking.
Judith’s reaction when Ethan called her was polite but sharp.
“Congratulations,” she said. “We should start planning quickly. There will be many things Sarah needs to learn about how events are handled in our circles.”
Wedding planning quickly turned into a quiet battle.
Every choice reminded me that the Caldwell family had very specific ideas about elegance.
My idea of a rustic venue with chandeliers and hill views?
Rejected.
“The Caldwell family doesn’t celebrate weddings in barns,” Judith said gently.
Buffet dinner?
Rejected.
“The Caldwell family prefers formal service.”
Wildflower arrangements?