tables while Evvie put the favors at each place: a little net bag of candy and a pack of playing cards with the wedding date on them. Andy had said he knew he and Monica were going to survive planning a wedding when they agreed, early in the process, on one ironclad rule: no Mason jars.
Andy and some of his buddies, including Dean, went out that night for what Andy called Boring Dad Bachelor Party, which meant two beers at the bar at The Pearl, then a viewing of Caddyshack and a Madden tournament that went on until about one in the morning and ended when Rose had a bad dream and woke up in tears. Evvie had been to Monica’s shower a couple of weeks earlier and had learned that Monica’s mother had gorgeous silver hair and called Andy her daughter’s “intended.”
On the morning of the wedding, Evvie walked Webster while Dean picked up his tux. She and the dog got back in time to see Dean come out of the bedroom ready to go, and Evvie raised an eyebrow. “Hubba hubba.”
“I gotta tell you, this is not the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn.”
“Welcome to Formal Occasions for Women: An Introductory Course in Empathy.”
“I feel dumb in this.”
“Yes, but you look so hot in it. Honestly, if I’m not allowed to wear a white dress, I don’t know why you’re allowed to wear a tuxedo.”
“All right, pipe down, horndog. Kell is bringing my parents to the church. I’m going to meet up with Andy, and I’ll see you there?”
“Yes.”
He came over and gave her a kiss, then ruffled the dog’s ears. “Love you,” he called over his shoulder on his way out.
“Love you,” she sort of sing-songed back as she unclipped Webster’s leash and hung it on the post. She showered and dried her hair, and in the bedroom, she changed into her dress, which was emerald green with elbow-length sleeves. She put a gold pin in the shape of a maple leaf near her collar and filled her little bronze bag with tissues and lipstick and a vintage Volupté compact that Dean’s mom had given her to celebrate the summer day when she’d legally changed her name back to Eveleth Ashton.
Evvie gave Webster one last skritch on the ears (“I love you, too, puppy,” she said in her only-for-talking-to-the-dog voice) and got into her car. As she rumbled over the bridge into Calcasset, she beeped and waved at Morris, who lived two properties down and walked his dog, whose name was actually Fido, at around the same time she usually walked Webster in the evening. She passed the medical building, passed Tim’s little memorial trees that she could see from the road, and adjusted her hands on the steering wheel.
The Tim money, the death money, was gone now. Dean had taken her to see his lawyer in New York, and she’d fixed it so that Evvie could give the money to Dean, and Dean could give the money away, so nobody would ask why Evvie Drake—Evvie Ashton—was throwing money around like a…well, like a professional athlete. They sat on her deck on a late summer afternoon drinking beers with their feet up, and they drew up a list of the places to send it: a big women’s shelter in Portland, a tiny domestic violence prevention nonprofit in Calcasset, youth baseball, the food bank, the library, the ACLU, and the Ida B. Wells Society, which was helping train Nona’s niece to be a journalist. Public radio, public television, the zoo, the chamber orchestra. Shelter bought with death, symphonies bought with broken glass, jars of peanut butter and cans of soup bought with the catered wedding she never should have had.
There were plenty of cars at the church, including Dean’s truck, and when she got out, she felt surrounded. They all knew now, about her and Dean, about her selling the house. Tim’s parents had been very unhappy that she didn’t return to mark any more anniversaries of his death after that first tree was planted. Her father, unfortunately, had overheard them at the bank saying that it hurt to know she’d forgotten their son so quickly.
When she got inside the church, she ran into Kell, whose smart raspberry dress was overlaid with lace. “Oh hello, honey, welcome, welcome.”
Evvie kissed Kell on the cheek and looked around at the church as it filled up. “Good turnout.”
“And beautiful weather outside, too. Perfect fall day. I know he’ll want