Sarah has prepared a feast; freshly baked scones and bread, quiche, fruit salad, bacon and hashbrown potatoes. It all looks so delicious. Suddenly, I’m famished.
Sarah’s husband finally makes an appearance, newspaper in hand. “Hello,” he says. His voice is deep and he seems like a friendly guy. He’s wearing a cardigan and is balding on top. Reading glasses rest on top of his head.
“This is my husband, Gordon,” Sarah tells us. “This is Maeve and Blake,” she adds. “Aren’t they lovely?”
He smiles and shakes our hands quickly before he takes a seat at the head of the table. Sarah does all the serving, and I wonder why Gordon doesn’t help. They strike me as a very old-fashioned couple.
Before we eat, Sarah says grace. I blush a little at the memory of Blake ramming me from behind on their bed less than thirty minutes ago. I’m not feeling very holy right now, but yes, thank you God for this delicious bounty.
I’m just about to dig in when Blake puts a hand on my wrist and stops me. “The quiche doesn’t have mushrooms, does it?” he asks Sarah.
She smiles. “Of course not. Maeve and I discussed her dietary restrictions. I usually do make it with mushrooms but it’s just as good without.”
I shoot him a smile. I think it’s pretty sweet that he’s looking out for me. I’m allergic to mushrooms and if I accidentally eat some, the toilet and I become best friends.
I take a bite, and yes, the quiche is absolutely to die for. “This is delicious, Sarah.”
“Yeah, really good,” Blake offers.
Sarah smiles bashfully. “Thank you. I love cooking.”
The room is silent as we all enjoy Sarah’s hard work. She sips a drink of her orange juice. “So tell me, how long have you two been married?”
We’re both caught off guard, but I’m quicker on my feet. Funny thing about Blake: he can’t lie to save his life.
“Oh… seven years,” I say. “We’re high school sweethearts. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Lying is easy if you stick close to the truth.
“Oh… how lovely,” Sarah says.
“You’ve got the seven-year itch yet?” Gordon quips.
“Gordon!!” Sarah scolds him, but she’s smiling.
“Never,” Blake says with a playful smile. “I mean… look at her.”
Gordon studies me for a second and shoots me a smile.
“Are you two planning to have little ones soon?” Sarah asks. Damn, she’s a nosy one.
“Uh… not quite ready for that yet,” I tell her.
“Maeve wants three,” Blake chimes in.
“You two would make beautiful babies,” Sarah offers. “I can just tell.”
I smile at the thought of that. We so would.
“So what did your wedding gown look like?”
“Uh…” I falter. This little charade has gone a little too far for my liking. “Um… beautiful,” I say. “Bustier top, flowing gown with small embroidered flowers.” I find myself describing the dress I wore on my ill-fated wedding to Peter.
“Sounds lovely,” Sarah says, riveted. “What did the bridesmaids wear?”
“Butter yellow dresses, similar style but short skirts, no embroidery.”
Blake studies me curiously. He must know that I’m talking about the wedding that never really took place.
