“All of them?”
“It looks like every single one of your wedding photos is gone. I’m so sorry, Sylvia. I’ll keep trying, but…”
I slid my back down the kitchen cabinet and sat on the linoleum. I cried until my ribs ached and my throat felt raw.
It felt too convenient.
The daughter of Beverly’s friend lost the photos of the wedding that Beverly tried to ruin? It smelled like a setup, but we had no proof.
Every single one of your wedding photos is gone.”
Then, a week later, the phone rang. It was Beverly.
“Well,” she said, her voice bright and cheery. “Good thing I had Lila send me printed copies before that unfortunate accident.”
“What do you mean, Beverly?”
“Oh, I pulled Lila aside at the wedding and told her to send me a full album as soon as possible. I like to preserve family history. Why don’t you come over on Sunday? We’ll have a little viewing with the family.”
It was Beverly.
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