“Now, the maid of honor,” she went on. “Elizabeth? Was that her name? Goodness, she certainly doesn’t have her mother’s sense of style.” “Well, let’s see what she looks like tomorrow,” I said. “I doubt she’ll do much better,” Mom told me. This was sort of a satisfaction. I still held Elizabeth to blame for making Debbie unhappy. I wished I could give Debbie a magic amnesia pill. I wished I had an amnesia pill myself.
