Chapter 20: The Aisle

The wedding was not cancelled.

Constance had sent no word to the guests.

By two on Saturday afternoon, two hundred people sat in the pews of First Congregational with their programs in their laps.

The story of the night before was running through every row.

They had come to see what would happen.

I stood in the vestibule in the ivory dress with forty-one buttons.

Dominic had fastened them himself at noon, in a hotel room, without one wrong word.

My father stood beside me in his good gray suit.

"You don't have to do this part," he said.

"I do."

"Then I'll walk you."

The organist saw us through the glass doors and changed the music.

The doors opened.

Two hundred heads turned.

I walked down the aisle on my father's arm.

I saw the front pew first, and Constance in it, in dove gray, upright, with her chin raised and her gloves on.

I saw Preston at the altar in his tux, with a white splint on his right wrist and a face gone the color of the dress.

I saw the pastor, looking at the ceiling.

I saw the older deputy, standing at the back wall with his hat in his hands.

I did not look at Dominic, standing at the altar rail in the best man's place.

I knew exactly where he was.

My father let go of my arm at the foot of the steps.

"Go on," he said.

I went up alone.

Preston took my hand, and I took it back.

"Margot," he whispered. "Please. Just say the words, and we'll fix it after."

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