The music swelled, and I braced myself as the guests settled into their pews.
Then Grandpa Sam slipped back in 10 minutes later, just as the last note rose, slightly out of breath, with a crumpled shopping bag bundled under his jacket. It was from the same little thrift shop I’d noticed across from the church when we’d arrived that morning.
I should’ve guessed.
I braced myself.
***
Grandpa Sam was the man who’d worn a plastic tiara to Hazel’s fifth birthday tea party and marched into her school play in a homemade dragon costume when the other grandpas came in ties.
In our family, we had a saying about him: “When words won’t do, Dad makes a point.”
And he’d always believed a point landed harder when you made people see it happen.
The man who’d worn a plastic tiara.
***
My former father-in-law (FIL) stepped into the aisle just as Vanessa was about to reach the altar beside Patrick.
