Chapter 2 - The Stained Glass and the Whispers
The Magnolia Harbor Chapel in Charleston was an architectural masterpiece of historic white timber and towering stained-glass windows that cast jewel-toned patterns across the polished cedar pews. Outside, luxury sedans and rented sports cars lined the oak-shaded drive, their license plates a cross-section of corporate wealth and elite southern society.
When I stepped out of my sedan, the crisp sea breeze caught the edges of my white jacket.
I walked up the stone steps alone, my heels clicking rhythmically against the old masonry. Inside the foyer, the air was thick with the scent of white lilies, expensive perfume, and whispered family gossip.
As I pushed open the heavy double doors into the back of the chapel, the low murmur of conversation abruptly died.
May you like
Neophytes, distant cousins, and family friends turned their heads. My mother, standing near the front aisle in an elaborate mauve dress, froze instantly. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the four-star insignia gleaming on my shoulders.
Beside her, my father turned around, his face instantly mottling into an ugly shade of dark crimson. He took two steps up the aisle, his eyes flashing with furious embarrassment, ready to march back and demand I leave.
