Maggie stared at Justine’s returned wedding invitation as she sat in a cafe, her black tea untouched. She was still angry about their parents’ will. Just because Justine wanted them cremated didn’t mean Maggie had to listen to her. It had been the first time Justine hadn’t gotten what she wanted, and now she was paying for it.

Maggie ran her hands over the lace, expertly selected by the wedding planner. She hadn’t wanted to spend so much on the cards, but the decoration was so beautiful. The detailing was so exquisite; she couldn’t bear to toss it.

“Excuse me, miss?” The barista said. She was a thin girl, no older than sixteen. She had her apron folded at her side.

“Yes?” Maggie said, her voice cracked, exposing the emotion she wished she could hide.

“We’re locking up.”

But Maggie hadn’t finished her tea, and she was still looking at the wedding invitation. If she left now, that meant she had to walk back home, short a maid-of-honor with the wedding only a month away. If she went home, she’d have to sit with the reality that she and her sister would never have a relationship ever again.

Maggie smiled. “I’m sorry. I just — ” Now she’d done it; she was crying. Her eyes unfocused from the barista and at the corkboard behind her.

“Oh!” the barista said, cupping her mouth with her hand. “Take your time.” The barista handed Maggie extra napkins for the tears.

The corkboard had myriad advertisements on how to improve your language and where the best yoga class was. Everyone wanted attention from someone, and from the looks of torn papers and small stacks of business cards, people had responded. A crazy idea flickered in her mind.

“Would you mind bringing me a marker?” Maggie asked.

The barista came back with a thick marker and stood over Maggie as she wrote on the front lace of the wedding invitation:

MAID OF HONOR NEEDED!

If interested, please call.

It was silly, yet cathartic; Maggie knew no one would give the invitation a second thought, but placing it on the corkboard made her feel like she was doing something. Maggie placed it prominently at the center. She did a test run, pretending to walk by. Then, she adjusted the height to the ideal maid of honor’s line of sight.

Thanking the barista, Maggie left feeling reinvigorated.

The next few days were a blur to Maggie, planning the finishing touches with her persnickety wedding planner, calling guests for confirmation, and otherwise keeping herself so busy she forgot the silly advertisement. Until she received a call.

Maggie woke up in a frenzied haze, answering the call before it disturbed her fiance, Frank.

She slipped out of bed and murmured a weary, “Hello?”

“Hey!” It was a voice Maggie didn’t recognize. It was too energetic for the morning. “So, sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be asleep. I just finished teaching a yoga class.”

“Who — who is this?” Maggie said, walking into the kitchen to make coffee.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Clara. I saw your ad at Cafe Soeurs.”

It took a moment for Maggie to understand what Clara was referring to, and by then she had dropped the coffee beans, spilling them across the counter. “You want to be a maid-of-honor?”

“Yes! I’ve done tons of weddings,” Clara said. Her voice muffled for a second, and then she said, “I’m not sure of your situation, so if you’d like to meet, I’m at the cafe right now.”

Maggie hesitated. She was about to hang up the phone, but then she thought about the empty space her sister would leave at the wedding. She pictured Frank with his parents, his three best men, his brother. And then opposite them stood Maggie, all alone.

“Yes,” Maggie said, her mouth dry. She didn’t often meet strangers on her own, but desperate times call for desperate measures. She was setting up a time to meet the woman before she had a chance to really think it through.

Over the next three days, Maggie received a dozen total responses to her advertisement, and probably would have received even more if the wedding invitation hadn’t been taken down under mysterious circumstances; one ambitious suitor eventually confessed she sought to eliminate her competition.

Maggie needed one replacement maid-of-honor, not twelve. And each new person had their own sisterly appeal — their own quality that made Maggie instantly attached. She was so comfortable with so many of them that it surprised her. Usually, it took her months to warm up to a person, and here she was spreading out her entire life for these strangers .

After the twelfth interview, Maggie collapsed on the couch. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and it didn’t help that she’d have to pick just one person.

“How’d this one go?”

“Perfect, like all the others,” Maggie moaned.

“What a problem to have. How will you pick just one?” Frank asked, smiling.

Maggie’s eyes went wide. She understood what she needed to do now. Why pick just one, when every person she had met had been special in their own way, a sort of family she had never had.

On the day of the wedding, Maggie walked down the aisle toward her husband-to-be and her dozen maids-of-honor. Her wedding line curved around the church, but it felt right. It felt like she had finally found her family.

Maggie was ready for her big day, trailed by twelve beautiful women. And lastly, bringing up the rear of the train, the thirteenth sister holding aloft her reclaimed invitation in hand.