Margaret had always been a little extra — oversharing at dinner parties, overstepping boundaries, over everything, really. Overwhelming, too.
“Mom’s just enthusiastic,” he’d tell me with that patient smile of his.
The next few days were a whirlwind of last-minute planning chaos. You know how it is: confirming vendors, finalizing seating charts, making sure Great Aunt Dorothy gets her gluten-free meal.
But through it all, Margaret’s curiosity went into overdrive.
And it wasn’t just friendly chatter.
It was specific. Really specific.
“What shade is that lipstick you’re wearing?” she asked during our final dress fitting.
“What flowers are in your bouquet again?”
“How are you styling your hair? Up or down?
