Carrying a bridesmaid's dress, which would soon flow in motion on a reception dance floor, Edelira joined Caydance and her Mother. It would not be a large, traditional wedding, but that morning, three women revealed what they would wear.
They stood together in the center of Caydance’s sunlit San Francisco studio: Caydance's once upon a time Cuban-American Cal roommate in a dress of layered, deep pink shades of silk chiffon and lace; Caydance's Mother, Skye O'Brien, in a sea green classic silk shirt dress that echoed her green eyes; Caydance in a white A-line wedding dress of organza and lace, plunging neckline, bared arms, cinched at the waist, flared to the floor. "Usually, it is advisable to wear a wedding dress that your beloved will be able to keep his hands off during the service," her mother observed. Critically.
Caydance smiled. She knew how Griff would react to her wedding dress. "Mom, you are gorgeous in green silk," she replied. "Dad is a fortunate man." But Skye had read the obituaries in that morning’s Chronicle, and it was not Mac O'Brien who was on her mind. She was remembering dancing with Defensive End John Matuszak that afternoon long ago when Mac said to meet him at Clancy's for tea when he meant The Claremont. Only Skye knew what that large man whispered in her ear, just before Mac arrived.