I watched my future mother-in-law shove my parents into the pool before our wedding—and I ended the ceremony before the music could begin.

The first sound I heard after my parents fell into the swimming pool was laughter.

It did not come from one person.

It rose from several places at once, sharp and uncertain, the kind of laughter people use when they are shocked but too cowardly to object. Someone near the bar gasped. A glass struck the stone terrace and shattered. The string quartet stopped halfway through a song.

Then came the second sound.

My fiancé said nothing.

Water spilled over the edge of the pool and spread across the white marble. Rose petals that had been scattered across the surface swirled around my parents as they struggled to stand.

My mother came up coughing.

Her navy dress clung to her body. The small pearl comb she had worn in her hair disappeared beneath the water. She reached for the side of the pool, but the wet fabric around her legs pulled her backward.

My father moved toward her immediately.

He had been wearing a charcoal suit borrowed from his younger brother because he did not own formal clothes appropriate for a wedding at the Sterling estate. He had spent nearly an hour that morning pressing the jacket and brushing invisible lint from the shoulders.