some of the larger memorials and vaults as she waited for him.
“That was nice.”
It was easier to ask the next question if she detached herself a little. “Do you think Nicholas would approve of what we’re doing?”
“He’d want you to be happy, sunshine.” Bob rubbed her shoulders affectionately. “Life is too short to spend it being unhappy. You know that.”
She probably should have voiced her concerns earlier than her wedding day, to someone with a sympathetic ear and a sensible mind. Bob had made her feel infinitely better with a few pithy phrases. “I know,” she said.
“We’ve only got a few more minutes. I need to get you the hell out there before people start to think you ran away.”
Caroline laughed as he yanked her to her feet. “Like I could run away in these.” She gestured toward her three inch strappy heels. Dancing shoes cleverly disguised as wedding attire. Too high to be sensible, too low to be unworkable. Her feet were going to be killing her at the end of the night.
“Your shoes are fine. I wouldn’t expect anything less than impractical from you on a day like today.” He led her out the door. “Let’s go.”
She could hear the prelude music playing. Had she wasted that much time pining in the alcove? Where was the photographer? And her children? Were they with Chrissy like they were supposed to be? Were they behaving themselves?
Bob saw the look on her face. “Stop worrying. Everyone has everything taken care of. And you owe me at least two polkas tonight,” he added.
Caroline smiled. Her mother’s side of the family was Polish. Part of the reason she’d fallen in love with Milwaukee while at Marquette. Chicago had a strong cultural history and she had a deep appreciation for her hometown, but no one did ethnic festivals quite like their sister city to the north. During college Caroline would make the short drive up on occasional summer weekends so she could spend a day by the lakefront absorbing the atmosphere. She’d always loved Polish Fest the most. And Bob was still trying to calm her down, which she appreciated.
“Deal,” she said. “I added a couple of your favorite songs to the playlist, aside from some Frankie Yankovic.”
Bob raised his eyebrows.
“We might be subjecting the guests at the reception to more than one version of ‘Sweet Home Chicago,’” she said. “I hope you approve.”
“I do.” He cleared his throat. “You really do look beautiful, sunshine.”
She could barely muster a whisper, afraid she’d start crying. “Thank you.”
A new tune began to play. The wedding processional from The Sound of Music. Bob grinned at her. “You’re a strange one, Representative Gerard.”
He wasn’t the only one in good spirits. Caroline could hear the rumblings in the church. The familiar melody sparked a few giggles among the attendees. “My Captain von Trapp is waiting for me at the altar,” she said.
“At least you were kind enough not to abandon any nuns behind an iron gate right before you walked down the aisle.”
“My period of celibacy was thankfully short.” She waited for the first stanza to end. They’d timed her entry during the rehearsal. “I think that’s our cue.”
Bob extended his elbow. “Then let’s get you married.”
* * * * *
The door to the suite swung open.
“Jack, you don’t have to do this,” Caroline said.
“Of course I do. It’s tradition.”
“And I’m so big on that.”
“That must be why you kept your name.” He lifted her up in his arms and carried her through the door, setting her down on the couch. “Your accommodations, my lady.”
She sank back into the cushions. “Only for tonight.”
“I’m going to carry you across every threshold we encounter for the next month.”
“You might hurt yourself.”
“And you can nurse me back to health.” Jack sat down on the couch next to her. “Don’t take off your shoes,” he said.
“Why?” She was tired. And a little buzzed.
“You’ll see.”
“My feet hurt.”
“They’ll be fine.”
Caroline sat up straight, and took a minute to recover from the rush. She suspected she was going to have a hell of a Moscato headache on the plane the next morning. Jack started loosening his tie and taking off his jacket.
That didn’t seem fair at all. “How come you get to undress?”
“Oh, you can undress if you want. Just leave your shoes on. And any sexy underthings you might be wearing under that virginal white dress.”
“Pervert. It’s off white.” She kept correcting people all night, and they kept insisting she was wrong. They laughed when