Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,1

game show hostess, pointed at a group of people in brightly colored dresses and khaki suits, mingling underneath a flowered arch. An arch that just happened to be at the very top of a sand dune. Suddenly, Chloe wished the hotel coffee had been spiked with something stronger than cream.

Ripping off the ridiculous stilettos, Chloe picked her way through the rocks until she caught up with her family. “Mom,” she gasped, grabbing Kristine’s arm. It was warm from the sunshine and spotted with freckles. “I thought we were going to a wedding, not an audition for Survivor.”

“What do you mean? This is a lovely hike.” Kristine swatted away a bug roughly the size of her fist. “They have Petoskey stones here. Look.” She pointed at a speckled gray rock lying in the water. “The pattern only shows up when it’s wet.”

“Fascinating.” Chloe took note of the camera around her mother’s neck and the copy of Great Hikes of Northern Michigan tucked under her arm. “In other words, we’re the only jackasses not driving to this wedding? Because we thought we’d tack on a nature hike?”

Chloe’s grandmother burst out laughing. Outrageous as always, June was wearing a long-sleeved dress made from reflective material, enormous black sunglasses and some sort of a weird, beekeeper-type hat. She took it off and shook it at them. “I say we skip this clambake altogether and go back to the hotel for a mimosa.”

“Finally.” Chloe lifted her hair away from her sweating neck. “Someone who’s not talking crazy.” Off her mother’s look, she said, “What? The groom’s, like, some third cousin I haven’t seen since I was ten. Why suffer through another wedding?”

“Chloe! Weddings are fun.” Kristine pushed her sunglasses up to reveal a pair of bright blue eyes. “They’re magical. They’re . . .”

“They’re second only to Valentine’s Day when it comes to the commercialization of the heart.” Chloe waved her naked ring finger. “And a blatant reminder that I’m going to die alone.”

June whacked her on the back. “You can’t die alone. You have us.”

“So, not only do I have to convince a man to fall madly in love with me, I have to convince him to fall in love with you and Mom, too?”

“Absolutely.” June nodded. “The three of us, we’re a package deal.”

“Besides, you’ll find someone.” Kristine smoothed a strand of hair out of Chloe’s eyes. “When you bother to make time for it.”

Thanks to her graduate program, internship hours and part-time job, Chloe barely had time to breathe, let alone date. Just getting away for this wedding had taken some serious juggling. “I’d rather make time for you guys,” she admitted. “You’re a lot more fun.”

“That’s a fact,” June agreed. As though eager to prove it, she pointed at the top of the sand dune. “Race you to the top of that hill,” she said, and started to run. In the thick white sand, she moved slowly, kicking up a spray of powder behind her after each step.

Kristine nudged Chloe. “Go! You can beat her.”

Chloe adjusted her sunglasses. “I am not about to get even sweatier. Maybe she’ll have a heart attack and that’ll be the end of it.”

June had gone a good distance when she finally turned. Seeing that Chloe hadn’t budged, she flapped her arms as though doing the chicken dance at the reception.

“Doubtful,” Kristine mused. With one hand, she wound her red hair up into a loose chignon. “And I think she’s calling you chicken.”

Chloe bit her lip. Even though her feet hurt, her scalp was burning and sand had found its way into places too embarrassing to mention, she was tempted. It had been a while since she’d beaten her grandmother at anything, although Chloe was 99.9 percent certain June had cheated at their last game of gin.

“Bawk, bawk.” June turned and waved her hat. “Come on, chicken.”

“That’s it.” Shoving the high heels at her mother, Chloe took off running, determined to beat her grandmother to the top of that damn hill.

* * *

By the time Kristine made her way up the sand dune, Chloe and June were hunched over in chairs meant for the reception, breathing heavily. A small jazz quartet played love songs and waiters circulated with trays of ice water.

Kristine surveyed the scene with admiration. “This is gorgeous.”

The white sand of the dunes and the view of Lake Michigan stretched into infinity, creating a lush, curving backdrop for the wedding. Along the edge of the bluff, chairs as white as a picket fence were

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