Page 47 of The Wedding Favor

“Hey, how was it?” I asked when she was close enough. “Did you have fun?”

She stopped in front of me. “Can we go home?”

“Sure. Sure. Let’s go.” All the way to the car, she was weirdly silent. No steady stream of chattering. Not a single question.

Once we got settled into the car, I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see her. “I was thinking we could stop and get an ice cream cone. What do you say?”

Hallie shrugged and played with the hem of her (purple) jean shorts.

“Come on now. If I’m having a bad day, ice cream helps a little. For that matter, if I’m having a good day, too. Ice cream is for all occasions.” I put the car in drive and headed toward the ice cream shop in downtown Two Harts.

Don’t be fooled by the “downtown” descriptor. It was four blocks on Main Street. But it’s where the cute little tourist traps lived—the high-end shops, specialty stores, clothing boutiques, and especially the antique malls that changed owners about three times a year. There were older establishments on Main Street, too. The Sit-n-Eat, the post office, the corner mom-and-pop grocery store.

After we each got two scoops, I drove us over to Legacy Park. Despite the heat, we took the half mile walk to the Legacy Tree in the middle of a large clearing. It was one of the prettiest spots in all of Two Harts, and historical, too. Rumor had it that one of the two Hart brothers who founded Two Harts carved his initials in this tree along with his love’s name.

“Remember this place? This is where your Aunt Ali got married. You were pretty little though.”

Hallie’s nose scrunched as she turned in a slow circle. “I got to be the flower girl.”

“You were excellent.”

A tiny smile teased her mouth. She had a bit of chocolate peanut butter ice cream on her chin. “It was fun.”

We sat together on a bench that faced the tree. “You want to talk about it?”

Hallie stared down at her feet as they swung back and forth. “The girls are mean.”

“What did they do?” I asked, feeling a wave of protectiveness.

She shrugged. “Just said stuff.”

“Did you say stuff back?”

“I tried not to. I didn’t want to be mean back ’cause I know that’s not the right thing to do.”

“Good point. Very mature.” I wasn’t feeling so mature, though. “Do I need to say something?”

Hallie’s head whipped around. “No! Don’t say anything. It will be okay. I just need to try harder to be friends with them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You promise you’ll tell me if it gets worse? You don’t have to put up with that.”

“I promise.” She patted my leg. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Spoiler: Everything was not fine.

When I picked Hallie up the next day, her favorite t-shirt, the purple tie-dyed one she’d made with her grandmother the month before, had a tear in it.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Don’t know.” That was all. When I had a chance to inspect the shirt, I realized it wasn’t a tear at all, it was a cut. Someone had cut her shirt.

The day after that, she had tears in her eyes when she climbed into the car. I was moving quickly from concerned to downright mad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we headed back to the house, my hands clutching the steering wheel.

Silently, Hallie stared out the window. Just as we pulled into the driveway, she said softly, “One of the girls is having a party. She gave everyone an invitation except me.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to sound calm and not like I wanted to rip the heads off young children. People frowned on that. “Who is it? Maybe they just forgot?”