“Yes,” I said, setting my pen down on the green blotter.
“This was delivered to the main downtown branch by mistake,” he said, sliding the envelope across the counter.
“The courier route sheet had your branch number written on the back in red ink, so I brought it over.”
The envelope was thick, made of heavy cream paper that felt like expensive linen between my fingers.
The return address was embossed in gold foil with the name of a specialty print shop in Columbus.
It was addressed to Lauren, but the shipping label had my credit union address printed below her name.
I used my metal letter opener to slice the top edge clean.
Inside was a full proofing packet for the wedding invitations, complete with three different layouts for the formal ceremony programs.
My eyes went straight to the lower half of the first page where the family names were listed.
The line where the mother of the bride should have been was completely blank, leaving a wide gap of cream-colored paper beneath Lauren’s name.
