deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and opened the door to face my daughter.
Amber stood on my porch in designer yoga pants and an expensive sweatshirt, her face flushed with anger and her eyes wild with panic.
“Mom, what the hell? I’ve been calling you all night. The hair and makeup people are already at the venue, and Margaret says she can’t reach you—”
She stopped abruptly, taking in my casual clothes and the packed bag visible in the hallway behind me.
“Why aren’t you dressed? We need to leave
