I pushed the wedding invitations off the bed and watched them fan out over the floor. The envelopes bent and the response cards landed in dust. What did it matter? They were headed to the garbage anyway.

How had this happened? This morning I was happy. I had everything-almost everything. And the one thing that was missing had arrived in the afternoon.

Six months ago when I announced my engagement, my grandmother Eleanor Cassidy, the formidable matriarch on my mother's side of the family, called me with a question.

"What colors do you want?"

I immediately knew she was speaking of my wedding quilt. My grandmother owns a small quilt shop in upstate New York. She has made me a quilt for all special occasions, from my first day at school to my college graduation to my first apartment. Some are large enough for a bed, but most are wall hangings-intricate, modern, and usually in her preferred bold, bright colors.

So when she asked me to choose the colors, I knew exactly how she'd react.

"Neutrals," I replied. I had already decorated the bedroom in my mind and decided it would be a soothing, restful place full of neutral colors.

"Neutrals?" I could hear the annoyance in her voice.

I laughed. "Yeah, you know tans, beiges, whites, creams. Can you do it? If not…"

"I can do anything." And with that she hung up. My grandmother is not a woman to waste time.

When she called me and told me she was sending the quilt, I was so excited that I took a vacation day just to stay home and wait for it. Not an easy conversation to have with the boss, but I didn't care. The quilt was not only going to be beautiful, I was sure, but it was tangible proof that the wedding was approaching.

At about one o'clock, my doorbell rang.