Chapter 2 - The Photograph Without Me
Hannah walked into the hallway and whispered:
“Please tell me you still have Mom’s pearls.”
Greg stood beside me holding Audrey’s empty velvet box.
A folded jewelry receipt protruded beneath the lining.
Across the top was yesterday’s date.
And Greg’s name.
For one horrible second, I thought he had taken them somewhere.
Maybe cleaned them.
Maybe repaired them.
Maybe he had decided Audrey’s sister Karen should be the one to give them to Hannah.
Anything would have been better than the thought that landed in my chest.
“Hannah,” I said, “give us one minute.”
Her face changed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Greg looked at me.
“Jenna.”
“What?”
He held the receipt.
“I took them to Chambers Jewelers yesterday.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“One of the settings was loose.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I noticed it when I looked at them after our conversation.”
Our conversation.
That was what he was calling it.
“You went through the guest-room drawer?”
“I knew where you put them.”
Hannah looked between us.
“What conversation?”
“Nothing important,” Greg said quickly.
I saw Hannah’s eyes sharpen.
She had inherited that from Audrey, according to Karen.
The ability to notice when adults were hiding things badly.
“Dad.”
“The pearls are fine. I’m picking them up this afternoon.”
Hannah turned to me.
“You knew one was loose?”
“I knew one had a scratch. I didn’t realize the setting needed repair.”
“Why didn’t either of you tell me?”
“Because there wasn’t anything to tell,” Greg said. “They’ll be ready before the rehearsal dinner.”
Hannah kept watching me.
“Jenna?”
I smiled.
“It’s fine.”
Again, a lie.
But not about the pearls.
Hannah hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“I want them tomorrow.”
“You’ll have them,” Greg promised.
She came closer to me.
“I was thinking maybe you could put them in my hair.”
Greg’s face changed so slightly Hannah didn’t see it.
I did.
The words from two days earlier returned immediately.
Her mother isn’t here.
Sometimes it feels like you’re stepping into a place that isn’t yours.
“I think your stylist should do it,” I said gently.
Hannah looked confused.
“You know how Mom wore them.”
“I only know from pictures.”
“You’ve literally been keeping them safe for eight years.”
“I’ll bring them.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I had no answer that wouldn’t expose Greg.
So I touched her arm.
“Let’s get through rehearsal first.”
She left twenty minutes later.
Greg waited until the door closed.
“You didn’t have to make that awkward.”
I stared at him.
“She asked me to put her mother’s pearls in her hair.”
“I heard.”
“And you told me not to step into Audrey’s place.”
“I didn’t mean every single interaction.”
“How am I supposed to know which ones count?”
Greg sighed.
“Use common sense.”
That was the first moment my sadness began turning into something harder.
Because he truly did not understand what he had done.
He had handed me a boundary and refused to define it.
Then every time I respected it, he acted inconvenienced.
“You decide,” I said.
“What?”
“From now until the wedding, if Hannah needs something from me, you decide whether I’m allowed to do it.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No. What’s ridiculous is asking me to guess when loving her becomes impersonating a dead woman.”
Greg stared at me.
I walked away.
Friday evening, the rehearsal dinner was held at a small Italian restaurant downtown.
It was the kind of place Hannah loved—brick walls, warm pendant lights, mismatched framed photographs, bowls of bread that never seemed to empty.
Relatives had flown in from Ohio, Georgia, Texas, and Colorado.
Karen arrived first.
She hugged Hannah.
Then Greg.
Then me.
“Why do you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”
“Wedding week.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Karen had the unsettling habit of hearing what people did not say.
Before I could escape, the photographer clapped his hands.
“Immediate family first, please.”
People began moving toward the fireplace.
Greg took Hannah’s left side.
Karen joined the group.
Greg’s parents stepped in.
Two of Audrey’s cousins came forward.
Without thinking, I stepped back.
Then another step.
Nobody noticed.
Or if they did, nobody said anything.
I ended up near the bar holding a club soda.
The photographer arranged everyone.
“Closer together.”
Greg put his arm around Hannah.
She laughed at something Ethan said.
Then Greg glanced over his shoulder.
Our eyes met.
For half a second, I thought he would call me.
Instead he gave me a small nod.
Approval.
As if I had finally followed the instructions correctly.
The flash went off.
Something inside me broke very quietly.
Nobody heard it.
I smiled anyway.
Afterward, Karen found me beside the dessert table.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“Long week.”
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“Don’t what?”
“Give me the polite answer.”
I tried to laugh.
She didn’t.
“You’ve spent ten months helping Hannah plan this wedding.”
“She did most of it.”
“You did half the things she forgot to do.”
“That’s what lists are for.”
“And now you’re standing near the tiramisu like you accidentally wandered into a stranger’s rehearsal dinner.”
I looked toward Greg.
He was talking with his brother.
“Did Greg say something?” Karen asked.
My face answered before I could stop it.
Karen’s expression changed.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing worth repeating tonight.”
“That means yes.”
“Karen.”
“Jenna.”
“Hannah’s wedding is tomorrow.”
“I’m aware.”
“I’m not making her rehearsal dinner about me.”
Karen studied me.
Then she looked toward Greg.
“I knew my sister.”
The sentence surprised me.
“I know.”
“And Audrey would have liked you.”
I swallowed.
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You never saw us together.”
“No. But I saw you with Hannah.”
She picked up a napkin and folded it absently.
“My sister was territorial about very few things. Hannah was one of them.”
I almost smiled.
“That does not sound encouraging.”
Karen did.
“She would have watched you like a hawk for six months.”
“Only six?”
“Maybe a year.”
Then her smile faded.
“But eventually she would have noticed something.”
“What?”
“You never asked Hannah to choose.”
That sentence nearly undid me.
I looked away.
Karen lowered her voice.
“Whatever Greg said, don’t confuse his fear with Audrey’s wishes.”
I turned back.
“Fear?”
She opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. You don’t get to do that after interrogating me.”
Karen glanced toward the room.
“Greg had a hard time after Audrey died.”
“I know.”
“No. You know the version he tells people.”
Before she could continue, the photographer appeared beside us.
“Excuse me. Jenna?”
“Yes?”
“I need you for one more picture.”
My heart jumped despite myself.
“With whom?”
He checked his list.
“Bride, groom, bride’s father, and maternal aunt.”
I understood immediately.
Karen looked furious.
“I’m maternal aunt.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Jenna?”
The photographer checked again.
“She isn’t listed.”
I forced a smile.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Karen.”
She ignored me.
“Who gave you this shot list?”
The photographer hesitated.
“The bride’s father emailed the final version yesterday.”
Yesterday.
The day after Greg told me I was not Hannah’s real mother.
Karen looked at me.
I could see the moment she understood.
Across the room, Hannah was laughing.
I shook my head.
Not tonight.
Karen’s jaw tightened.
Then she stepped into the photograph.
I stayed at the bar.
The flash went off again.
Later, after dinner, Greg and I drove home in silence.
He carried Audrey’s repaired pearls inside his jacket pocket.
At the house, he handed me the velvet box.
“There.”
I opened it.
Six pearls.
Perfect.
Except the scratched setting.
That tiny mark remained.
I ran my finger over it.
Greg watched me.
“Tomorrow should be about Hannah.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t want tension.”
“Then don’t create any.”
He frowned.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I took the box upstairs.
At midnight, I laid out the navy lace dress I planned to wear.
It was elegant.
Simple.
Not a mother-of-the-bride gown.
Not something that would draw attention.
I placed the velvet box beside it.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Hannah.
Can you come to the bridal suite early? 8:30?
I typed:
Sure.
Another message appeared.
And Jenna? Don’t let Dad see this.
Then a photograph loaded.
It was the final wedding-day schedule.
One line had been circled in red.
8:45 A.M. — PRIVATE FAMILY MOMENT: HANNAH + JENNA
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard footsteps stop outside the guest-room door.
Greg knocked once.
May you like
And quietly asked:
“Who are you texting?”
