As everyone filled a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, Missy's mother had the refrigerator calendar ready to go, highlighters lined up like soldiers. Scheduling was serious business. Missy thought her mother would have been an excellent wedding planner. Actually, Missy was amazed she could think at all. There was exhaustion, and then there was absolutely wrecked: the sort of fatigue that vibrates in the marrow of your bones and makes you feel like you're dragging a thousand pounds. Missy, so wrecked that junkyards would have begged her for scrap metal, took a sip of coffee and hoped that this sip would be the one that shook her out of her near coma. She had to muddle through breakfast. Somehow. She let out a jaw-cracking yawn and nearly spilled her coffee. Blinking hard, she scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. If she passed out in her eggs, Sue would never let her hear the end of it. But then, her sister was oddly quiet. As Missy sipped, she glanced at Sue, catching her in the act of glaring sullenly at her.
