Her mother had told her she was taking her out for lunch to celebrate the pending nuptials, a splashy, fun get-together with family and friends on hand to share the good news. She had set her taste buds for the amazing chicken burritos at Casa Mexicana in Spring Lake and was dismayed when they rolled right past the exit and kept on heading north. Visions of one of those terrible spa lunches—three lettuce leaves, a grape tomato, with a side of guilt—made her wish she’d stashed a bag of chips in her purse along with her daughter Hannah’s current favorite Barbie. As it turned out, a spa lunch would have been a vast improvement over what her mother actually had in mind. “Where is she taking my clothes?” Maddy protested as a fiercely groomed sales associate disappeared with her favorite cotton sweater and jeans. “Don’t worry,” Rose DiFalco said to her daughter. “This is the only way we can be sure you won’t make a run for it.” Her fashionable aunt Lucy turned her critical eye on Maddy’s nearly naked form.
