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position. The next few minutes passed in a blur. The priest spoke. Whitney spoke. Kit spoke. Rings appeared, vows were made, for some reason they poured pastel sands into a vase together.
    I now prono
unce you husband and
wife.
    My father and Whitney kissed to thunderous applause.
    It was done.
    Sweet s
assy molassey.
    Hugs. Backslaps. The happy couple floated down the aisle.
    I have
a stepmother. This i
s not a drill.
    I began mentally listing Whitney’s good points, starting with how much Kit loved her, and how devoted she was to him. I almost forgot to take Eric’s arm as we followed them down the wedding gauntlet.
    This wouldn’t be so bad.
    Right?
    Right?
    Ahead of me, Whitney let out a squeal of delight, hugging my father close. “We did it!”
    A sigh escaped.
    I smiled. This time it wasn’t
too
forced.
    No, it wouldn’t be so bad.
    Things change, and this wasn’t even a bad one.
    My father’s face. Tears of pure joy, manfully contained.
    As they passed into the building, their interlocked hands flew up in celebration.
    Not so bad at all.
    Welcome
to the family, Whit.

D inner was about to be served.
    The ballroom was decked out in linen and silk, with a square of sparkling hardwood at its heart. Gleaming silver utensils flanked fine china and crystal water goblets. Elegant hand-printed menus adorned each place setting. A string quartet was playing in one corner.
    I snagged my personalized card as I entered, though I knew which table was mine. Whitney had dubbed the seating arrangement “the hardest thing” she’d ever had to do. Apparently half her family couldn’t stand the other half, and there were
literally
dozens
of VIPs requiring pride of place.
    The tables were round, arranged in staggered rows. Mine was up front, of course, with Aunt Tempe, Harry, and some of Whitney’s family I didn’t know. My new stepmother had ignored my not-so-subtle hints that I’d have preferred a secluded table in back with my friends. Oh well. At least Ben was sitting with me. I’d insisted on that much.
    A sweetheart table for the bride and groom sat on a dais at the very front. Whitney took her seat, beaming, though her smile faltered a bitwhen she noticed the replacement centerpieces. She said something to Kit, who whispered a lengthy response, eyeing his new bride nervously as he held her hand. Whatever he said seemed to mollify her. It didn’t hurt that the new flowers looked fantastic.
    Whitney glanced my way. Gave me a grateful nod. I waved back.
It
was nothing
.
    Her smile returned as she looked down on the mass of people like a queen on her throne. No one could mistake whose day it was.
    “Your dad looks comfortable,” Ben said sarcastically. Kit was squirming in his chair under all that scrutiny. “I assume
he’s
the one who wanted to eat dinner perched on a pedestal like a canary, in full view of a hundred and fifty people?”
    Kit drummed his tabletop, nearly knocking over a glass in the process.
    “I bet he had no idea.” I shot Ben an amused glance. “Like it would have mattered. This isn’t his show, and everyone here knows it.”
    “At least
tha
t
dais looks sturdy,” Ben joked, fiddling with his ponytail. He didn’t wear his hair back much, but I was digging it. “We don’t need another structural emergency today.”
    “I know, right?” I leaned in close, speaking fast. “I can’t believe what almost happened out there. Don’t you think it’s weird that the platform was defective?”
    “Not defective,” Ben corrected. “It wasn’t assembled properly.”
    “Even worse!” My face scrunched in disbelief. “How could the set-up crew mess that up? The pins are literally all that holds the altar together, right?”
    Ben hesitated. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but yeah, it’s . . . bizarre. It’s not like that structure is particularly complicated, it’s just large wooden pieces connected by metal pins at the joins. I can’t see how you’d possibly miss any when