Real Romance - By Ginny Baird Page 0,40
less than four weeks away, the caterer had canceled, the music director had been jailed for bootlegging CDs, and the bridesmaids' dresses—all seven of them—had arrived in the wrong color!
Marie hung up the phone and collapsed in a heap on her living room sofa. Weddings were an unbelievable amount of trouble. There was so much work involved—and planning. Just look at poor Meg. She was supposed to be preparing for the most memorable day of her life, but instead she'd been biting her fingernails to the quick in nervous anticipation of what disaster would befall her next.
Somehow it seemed to Marie that the more time and planning that went into a wedding, the greater the opportunities for things to go wrong.
When she'd been little, she'd envisioned all the same things Meg had. A candlelit ceremony, followed by a sit-down dinner and dancing in a castle courtyard to an elegant string quartet.
The main problem with that picture was that Marie wasn't a princess with a courtyard, or a fortune to afford that kind of soiree. In fact, up until very recently, she didn't really imagine she'd ever find a prince.
Her sisters Jill and Teresa had found their princes early, but instead of crumpets in the castle halls, they'd been treated to tea and cake in the big reception hall of their Methodist church. To see the smiles on their faces, though, it hadn't mattered to either, not one bit.
Marie kicked off her shoes and propped her aching feet on the coffee table. What with all the circles they had to run around in prior to the big day, it was a wonder brides could dance at their own weddings at all.
No, this was too much. Too much altogether. By the time Meg and Johnny tied the knot on December twenty-eighth, Marie would have assisted with the planning of four weddings—Joanne's included.
She tugged the scrunchie out of her hair and shook it out as it fell to her shoulders. Gracious, she thought, straightening her curls with her fingers, maybe she'd missed her calling as a wedding coordinator.
No, scratch that. She truly enjoyed what she did for a living. What she'd enjoy even better, Marie thought, sinking low in the sofa and burying her head in her arms, would be for someone else to do everything for her when her time finally came along.
Joanne leaned in to the mirror and pinched her cheeks.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked, turning her head coyly from side to side and studying her reflection. "Not too bad for an old bird?"
"Oh, Joanne," Marie said, hugging her shoulders. "You look marvelous. Beautiful!"
It was true. One look at the glow on her face and the shine in her eyes, and anyone would swear Joanne was twenty years younger. Her hair was done in a loose upsweep with little sprigs of flowers tucked in all around. Lilac, to match her flowing, floor-length dress.
"You were so sweet to close the store, love. All on my account."
Marie chuckled. "Well, Joanne, I think it helped that your brother-in-law-to-be owns the place! But you're welcome just the same. It does seem like the perfect place for the ceremony."
"Perfect," Joanne said, smiling back at her reflection. "The scene of the crime, as Chad calls it. You know if it hadn't been for you, young lady—"
"Oh now, Joanne," Marie said, patting her affectionately on the arm. "Don't you go giving me too much credit. To look at the two of you now, there's no doubt in my mind that you and Chad would have found each other sooner or later."
Joanne turned quickly and looked at Marie. "Well, now, who on earth are you, and what have you done with my skeptical friend?"
Marie grinned and lowered her glasses. "She fell in love."
"You?" Joanne bounced on her heels like a five-year-old. "But you never said a word... How serious is it?"
"One blushing bride at a time, please," Marie said, spinning her back toward the mirror. "Now, let's be sure all those pins are in place. You wouldn't want to prick Chad when he gives you that 'I do' kiss!"
David sat nervously on the sidelines, acutely aware of what all this meant.
The back of the bookstore had been decorated to look like a wedding chapel, complete with an improvised canopy and lots of crepe paper decorations and fresh flowers. Marie had done a good job at making things look special. But then again, everything she touched seemed to have a hint of magic in it.
David hoped he was