At My Grandson’s Lavish Wedding, the Bride Laughed at My Quilt — Minutes Later, His Choice Ended the Night and Changed Our Family Forever
Prologue: The Stitch That Split
My name is Beatrice Eleanor Walsh—Bea, to those who love me. At eighty-three, I thought I’d learned all the lessons grief and grace could teach. I was wrong. One September evening, in a ballroom of crystal and cameras, a single sharp laugh pierced a wound I’d spent years keeping stitched—and everything unraveled, in the best possible way.
