Good Luck

I shrug. From the outer defense wall, Brook yells, "You've ruined our family!" Then she stomps back to where Ned and I are, grabs my arm, and pulls me back inside the chapel. Brook drags me over to where Mom and Dad are sitting. She barks at Mom to make room for us. Then she asks, "Can we act like a proper family for once? Please? God!" With all the candles lit and everybody dressed so fancy, the chapel looks sort of ethereal. I tell this to Mom, who says, "I don't think you're using that word correctly." On the balcony, an artist sits, painting at an easel. Mom gestures around the room, then says, "We hired him to paint the scene."