“Looks like half the town showed up,” Bennett said beside me, adjusting his collar. He’d been unusually quiet during our drive over, his hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tight.

“You know Colette,” I replied. “She’s never done anything halfway.”

My husband nodded, but something in his expression seemed off. Bennett was usually the social butterfly between us, the one who made friends with strangers in checkout lines. Today, he looked watchful.

“You feeling okay?” I asked, placing my hand on his forearm.