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And my makeup kit.
I love my husband. Love him.
I got into the backseat, and Joe took the famous roller-coaster streets of San Francisco at pretty close to the speed of sound.
I struggled in back with undergarments, snaps, and fasteners as the car climbed and swooped. It was almost a riot. The makeup, well, that was an actual riot. I viewed my face in a two-inch-square mirror and did my best to color within the lines. I sprayed myself with fragrance and got a little on Joe.
“Hey,” he said. “Watch out, Blondie.”
We arrived at City Hall and parked in the underground lot with two or three seconds to spare. It was so perfect that Yuki was getting married in City Hall, a stunning building, so familiar to all of us in law enforcement, who passed through constantly.
And she was getting married in the Ceremonial Rotunda.
Joe grabbed my hand and we ran upstairs to the beautiful round hall laid entirely in Tennessee pink marble. About fifty people were clustered at the foot of the staircase waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin.
I saw Brady, taller than almost everyone there, his pale blond hair hanging loose to his shoulders. He was wearing a slate-blue suit that made him look like a movie star.
Brady turned toward me, and I saw Yuki, outrageously beautiful in a white satin sheath, her hair swept up and held with pearl combs. Her bouquet was a great bunch of creamy peo
nies with trailing pink ribbons. Oh, my.
Together, Brady and Yuki looked like they should be in the Style section of the Chronicle as the most beautiful couple of the year.
Yuki called out, “Okay, we can start now. Lindsay is here.” And then her laughter echoed in the round, and Yuki did a little dance of her own devising. Brady doesn’t laugh out loud too much. In fact, this might have been the first time I’d ever heard his hearty “Ahahaha.”
Judge James Devine wore a black suit and a yellow bow tie. He cleared his throat, and as the wedding guests grouped at the foot of the stairs, Yuki and Brady climbed them in tandem. They stood opposite the judge under the grand 24-karat gold dome like figures on the top tier of an extraordinary pink wedding cake.
The vows were simple, time-honored.
“Dearly beloved, friends and family, we are gathered today to witness the joining of this man and this woman in matrimony.”
I thought of my own wedding, not so long ago, and my heart was there with Yuki and Brady when they exchanged vows and rings.
Judge Devine said, “On the east wall, there is a wonderful engraving of Father Time. The inscription reads: ‘San Francisco, O glorious City of our hearts that has been tried and found not wanting. Go through with like spirit to make the future thine.’
“That is what I wish for the two of you.
“And now I pronounce you, Jackson, and you, Yuki, husband and wife. Jackson, you may kiss your bride.”
Brady took Yuki’s face in both his hands and kissed her and then he lifted her into his arms. To a wonderful echoing cheer, Brady carried our dear friend down the stairs.
My husband kissed me and said, “I love you, Blondie. That much.”
I told him that I loved him that much, too.
We all ran out onto the street in our wedding finery, like a flock of tropical birds.
I was ready to dance.
CHAPTER 17
I DON’T KNOW how Yuki’s wedding planner managed to get a private room at Epic Roasthouse with so little notice, but she did it. This great restaurant was wall-to-wall glass panels with a full-on billion-dollar view of the Bay Bridge and the San Francisco Bay. It doesn’t matter how many times you see this wonder of wonders, it never gets old.
We had cocktails and I found myself standing with Brady. He said, “I can’t believe what a miracle it is that I found Yuki. And you introduced us, Lindsay. You did that.”
“Yeah. Well, she was visiting me, and you came over to my desk. So, okay, I guess I introduced you.”
“You deserve all the credit. My brother will tell you. She saved my ass from a life of grouchiness and solitude.”
