She smiled. “Can’t wait for the poem. Just watch for Kyle. He’ll start the speeches.” She winked. “Oh, and, Fiona,” she said, pulling me and Noni closer to her. “I already told your mom, but I’ll have my hairdresser do you both for the wedding.” Her eyes rested briefly on my hair—curly, loose, still wet from the shower. “That way we can all be on the same page. Okay?” Noni looked at me with wide eyes and shook her head the slightest bit. No, Fiona, do not make a fuss, not tonight. “Sure, Sandrine,” I said, smiling brightly. “Whatever you want.” Flutter, flounce, ripple, bony, toothy, tart,
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