At the reception, I was placed at table nine near the kitchen doors. Brandon gave a polished speech thanking his parents for making the wedding possible. My name wasn’t mentioned. Later, Aunt Helen found me near the coat rack and grabbed my arm. “Gordon, you need to know this wasn’t Natalie’s idea.” She explained that Natalie had called her crying. Brandon had convinced her that excluding me would spare me the pain of walking without Margaret.

Helen said Brandon’s mother wanted two sets of parents for symmetrical photographs, and Brandon repeatedly told Natalie that I was quiet, understanding, and wouldn’t mind. “She looked for you the entire way down that aisle,” Helen whispered. I thanked her, walked to the card table, and left one cream envelope before driving home. Inside, I explained that every wedding invoice had been paid, but that was everything I could give financially. Margaret’s jar would remain at my house, waiting for the day Natalie came through my door simply as my daughter.