People around us laughed softly.
It broke some of the tension.
I wiped my face.
“And now you’re wearing the whole thing?”
Claire’s voice shook. “Because a little piece didn’t feel like enough.”
That nearly destroyed me again.
She reached for my hand.
“Your mom told me your dad wore this when he married her.”
I nodded. I’d seen the pictures.
Dad had been 28, with far too much hair and a mustache that my mother spent decades mocking.
Claire continued. “She said I could use the fabric for anything. I thought about making a hair ribbon. Or lining my bouquet with part of it.”
“So what happened?”
Claire looked down at herself.
“I decided to put it on.”
I almost laughed through the tears.
“You just put it on?”
“About two weeks ago. Your mom had already given it to me, and I was trying to decide what part of it I could use without ruining it.”
