I have a beautiful white dress, thanks to Simone’s excellent assistance. My hair and make-up are model/movie star perfect, and my two best friends, Sammy and Cara, are all dressed up in gorgeous light green dresses, mint green that reflects light like the leaves of an elm or sycamore tree — exactly the same hue as the bedspread back at the fancy hotel where Timothy and I stayed in San Diego. That was kind of a joke of ours, but no one seemed to object to the color I’d chosen.
Simone is wearing the maid of honor dress, also mint green, and somewhere among all the confusion downstairs, my matron of honor, Judy, my boss’s wife, wears one that is almost identical.
I’d decided to have the wedding in Timothy’s house. No place could be more suitable in my opinion, and Timothy was willing to do whatever it was that pleased me. I guess one of the reasons for choosing his house instead of the chapel, was that I really didn’t want a lot of people at our ceremony. My parents were dead, as was the grandmother who’d raised me from age twelve. So, all I had to support me were the people in our wedding party.
Timothy’s best man was, Andrew, of course, and he’s in attendance, probably with his girlfriend, who I’ve yet to meet. Timothy recruited Chef Stevens, at my request, since I was really fond of the guy, plus two business associates that are strangers to me. Mr. Simons, my boss (and Judy’s husband) agreed to walk me down the aisle.
So, the setting, choreography, music (Timothy hired a quartet that played classical music,) flowers (Judy and Ed Simons’ gift to me,) and the dainty deliciousnesses of hors d’oeuvres, strawberries and melon slices, plus a variety of tiny finger foods (all prepared by Chef Stevens, including a three-tier cake,) are assembled and ready for their moment to shine.
Oh, and the official wedding officiate, who was a friend of Simone’s will marry us. I haven’t met him yet, but Simone said he will provide us with a wonderful ceremony, leaning on the Celtic Irish side, whatever that means. I’d told both Timothy and Simone that I didn’t want any religious stuff and neither of them thought that was awful.
“Oh, and no obeying,” I’d added when we were discussing such things. Timothy had appeared puzzled over that and glanced at Simone as if she’d know what I was talking about. But then he let out a voluminous laugh and teased me. “That was an option?” he asked.
And now the day is here. Timothy hadn’t wanted a bachelor’s party, I’d negated any offerings of a bridal shower, to Judy’s disappointment, and there was no bride’s night out. Simplicity was my mantra. Low key. Just get the show on the road and let me get back to normality, well, as much normality as there would be married to a pooka.
No, it wasn’t that I lacked romance, as Cara had accused, but this show of a wedding was a kind of beside the point. Timothy and I had been sleeping together for months. No bride and groom on their honeymoon could be cleaved any tighter than we were.