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The women bellowed with laughter.
“He doesn’t wear that, does he?” Katrina asked.
“Oh, yes, Chris is quite the clotheshorse. You’ll see what I mean today.”
“The limo is here. Come on, girls. Let’s get going.”
“We could have walked to church,” Maggie said. “Isn’t a limo kind of overkill?”
“I’m not walking in four-inch heels,” Katrina said. “Move.”
The processional had already started when they pulled up to the church. Everyone was seated, and Justin and Chris, his best man, were up at the altar. Dave waited on the steps for the bride and her court: Katrina, her maid of honor, and Annie, her bridesmaid.
When the limo pulled up, he ran down the steps to greet the women.
“You are just beautiful,” he told Maggie. “Kat, Annie, you take my breath away.”
“Aw, I’m going to cry,” Maggie said, snorting.
“I’ll kill you if you ruin that makeup,” Katrina hissed. “Suck it up.”
“Oh, shit, I hear Mendelssohn,” Annie said. “We’d better get moving.”
“You’re first,” Katrina said. “What are you waiting for?”
They made it up the stairs and into the church, and Annie started the journey down the aisle, followed by Katrina, both in different styles of red satin Carolina Herrera gowns. When the women who would know of such things saw the dresses, they gasped and whispered about the expense.
But all that ended when Dave and Maggie stepped across the threshold, and the congregation stood up in honor of the beautiful bride in vintage Oscar de la Renta.
“It was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” Justin whispered to her as they stood in the receiving line. “My beautiful Maggie in my mother’s wedding dress.”
“It was a lovely wedding. My mother has outdone herself at this reception, too.”
The party was being held at the lodge, decorated for Christmas just like the old days. Rose had made Vic get all the boxes of decorations Emily had collected out of the attic, and she’d used every string of lights and every ornament she found.
Doc Chastain, in his glory in an Armani tux, greeted guests as their vehicles filed into the parking area. Rose had picked a caterer from New Orleans who did the cooking on the premises. The little-used dining and living rooms at the lodge had been opened up to the yard in the cool December air, allowing guests to move in and out of the house.
Val and Elizabeth hadn’t come to the reception, but Chris was relieved.
“The less I have to interact with him, the better,” he confided to Annie as they stood in the lodge living room with glasses of champagne. “What do you think about it?”
“I think you’re so wise, Chris. You know what you can tolerate, what you want in your life.”
“I want you in my life,” he said. “Can we be next?”
“You mean married next?”
“Right. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be my wife.”
She wiggled her left hand. “I’m still waiting.”
“Oh, right.” He dropped to his knee, and Annie cried out loudly enough that everyone stopped talking to see what was about to happen.
Out of his suit coat pocket, he took a small black velvet ring box and opened it. “Annie Markley, will you marry me?”
“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she cried, tears ruining her makeup. She looked around for her friends, and they were watching, smiling, crying.
Chris slipped the engagement ring on her finger, and cheers rang out.
