I read the last page aloud, my voice steady. “This house is to pass to my son, Preston, on the day he marries, but only if he has first asked his mother’s blessing and invited her to stand beside him. If he has not, the house shall pass to the Kiawah Hurricane Rebuilding Fund, for families who lose their homes to storms.” Not one guest breathed. Preston’s face drained of color. Georgette snatched at the page, and I held it out of reach.

My attorney, Ms. Okonkwo, stepped from the shade of the porch, where she had been sitting quietly the whole time. “That clause is notarized and recorded,” she said calmly. “The wedding took place without Mrs. Lindqvist’s blessing or presence, so the house now belongs to the fund.” Harrison sank into a folding chair. Camille covered her mouth, and the murmur of thirty-three guests rose like surf.