Chapter 23: The Real Wedding

I said yes before he finished the sentence.

He pointed out that this was my line from the sandwich shop, reversed, and that he was keeping it.

The wedding was the following Saturday, at two, on the pier.

It had one venue, one groom, one dress and one ceremony, and I had not booked anything else.

The jeweler on King Street asked if I wanted a second pair of bands in case of loss.

I said no, and then I said it again, louder, and a man on the sidewalk turned around.

"That's the first time I've heard a buyer say that," the jeweler said.

"It's the first time I've meant it," I said.

On Saturday I walked to the pier in a plain ivory dress I had bought on Thursday.

It was not rented, and it did not need to be back by six.

I had no life vest in my purse, and no card in my bag, and no marker.

The ferry was tied up at the dock with its engine off and its flags up.

For once, it was not going to sail.

Sixty-one folding chairs stood on the planks, one for each passenger on that first 2:00 sail.

Most of them had come back, in their Saturday clothes, to eat more cake.

Knox's mother sat in the front row in a hat with a feather and a handkerchief already out.

Beside her sat Alana, in a plain dress, with no headset.

She did not smile at me, and I did not need her to.

She nodded once, and I nodded back.

That was all there was between us, and it was enough for a Saturday.

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