Chapter 5: Call Her Aunt

The lodge lawn was full at ten to four.

A hundred and forty white chairs stood in rows on the grass.

At the lake end was a white arbor, with the hydrangeas I had picked myself.

Every chair was taken.

Gwendolyn had told them all to come.

She had texted every guest the night before: A small family misunderstanding. The wedding is still on.

I know because the florist showed me the text when I picked up my dress.

I came around the corner of the lodge at four o'clock sharp.

I was wearing the ivory dress I had hemmed twice, and my hair was down, and the brass ring was on my left hand.

Ford walked next to me in a dark suit he had pulled out of a cedar chest on the boat.

The sleeve of ink showed at his wrist.

He did not offer me his arm.

I took it.

The quartet that I had paid for stopped in the middle of a bar.

A hundred and forty heads turned.

I heard someone say, "Is that her?" and someone else say, "Who is that with her?"

Preston stood at the arbor in a gray tuxedo with his hands folded in front of him.

Kendra sat in the front row in a green dress.

His mother sat beside her, back straight, one hand on her purse.

His father, Lowell, was on the aisle, and when he saw Ford, his face went white.

We walked down the aisle.

Nobody breathed in the rows.

Preston's face showed relief first, then a smile for the guests.

When we came closer and he saw whose arm I had, his face showed nothing at all.

"Dess," he said in a low voice, for me. "Dess, thank God. What are you doing? Why is he here? Is this a joke?"