I called my mother, hoping she would defend me, but her response hurt even more. She said the wedding was an important occasion and that I wouldn’t fit in with Preston’s wealthy guests. I reminded her that I had built the very arch beneath which her daughter would exchange vows. She told me not to make everything about myself. I ended the conversation and returned to work, trying to forget that my own family considered my honest profession something shameful. My best friend, Tiny, listened as I explained everything. He simply shook his head.

A few weeks later, I encountered Preston at a farm supply store. He introduced me to his friends as Sydney’s brother, “the welder,” and joked about my dirty hands. Then he asked whether I had any hard feelings about being excluded. I told him I didn’t, but I had already given Sydney her wedding gift. He laughed and walked away. I thought the humiliation would end there. I had no idea his father, Garland Whitaker, was about to discover the truth.