I was at the reception, arm linked with my husband Harrison Weiss, making the rounds to toast our guests.
That was when I heard it from the head table: my sister, dressed in a pink dinosaur onesie with two heart-shaped buns on her head, posing her question to my mother-in-law and every relative within earshot.
Chopsticks clattered to rest at neighboring tables as guests stopped mid-bite.
Every head swiveled toward us, eyes gleaming with the thrill of a spectacle.
Greta Finch's face went black. Her jaw locked so tight the muscle in her cheek twitched, and her fists shook on the tablecloth.
She was seconds from detonating.
Here it comes. Exactly the same as last time.
The moment Marilyn Cobb finished that question, my mother-in-law would erupt.
She'd flip the table, announce the marriage was null and void.
Then she'd drag Harrison away, screaming that I was a shameless tramp for all to hear.
Marilyn, realizing she'd "caused trouble," would bury herself in our mother's arms, pout her little lips, and squeeze out two fat crocodile tears.
"I didn't mean to!"
"I was just really, really curious what that word means!"
And my mother, mortified by me rather than her, would shield Marilyn and snap: