Going to the Chapel Read Free

another reassuring smile before I take Doug by the elbow and walk him over to the ferns that spread out on one side of the ballroom. Someone has put a few metal folding chairs halfway behind some of the ferns. There is one of those little tables where waiters collect the used appetizer plates and punch cups. This is obviously the kitchen side of the room. Doug should feel at home. At least, he can keep an eye out for those stuffed mushrooms.
    “Relax,” I finally say to him as I put my punch cup on the tray sitting there. “Your freedom is safe with me. You have no reason whatsoever to worry about any commitment expectations— whatsoever. ”
    I add that second “whatsoever” for emphasis. I add the third one under my breath for the sake of my pride.
    Doug looks at the ferns as if he’s suspicious of what’s behind them. “You’re not going to be mad at me, are you?”
    I’m beginning to wonder if he really is going to pass out. “You should sit down and put your head between your knees.”
    If it’s possible for a man to go even paler, Doug does. “Is that when you’re going to hit me? Your cousin Jerry told me you hit people.”
    I swear, don’t any of my cousins ever let anything go? “I was eight years old. I tripped and hit him by mistake when I was falling. He knows that—I’ve told him it was a mistake a thousand times.”
    “He says there was nothing around for you to trip over.”
    “We were in the middle of what was left of Aunt Inga’s garden. There were dead tomato vines everywhere. All over the ground. Lots and lots of vines.”
    “He said he couldn’t open his eye for a week.”
    “He just said that so he wouldn’t have to go to school. We were studying the Romans in history and he didn’t like them. Something about Caesar and how you couldn’t trust a guy who had a salad named after him. Jerry hated salad—except for the croutons. And those he only liked because he liked to throw them at people.”
    I wish I had a crouton myself right now.
    Even more I’m beginning to wish we’d had a big storm in California two weeks ago. I know it’s only the end of October, but early storms happen. That’s when Cassie’s cousin impulsively drove to the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe and got married. Just think about how weather can affect your life. If the snow had been falling, my guy would have been stuck back at home with his girlfriend and they might have gotten bored with all of the snow and had an argument. He might have gotten mad during the argument and said he was going to Los Angeles where people would appreciate him and I’d be looking at Brad Pitt instead of Doug Brenner.
    I look up to see Cassie walking toward us.
    “Are you all right?” Cassie says to me as she looksdown at Doug who just sat on a folding chair next to the ferns. Cassie must have heard from Aunt Ruth already that Doug and I are having problems.
    Doug scoots his chair back into the leaves.
    Cassie wears glasses and she pushes them farther up on her nose. She has her hair pulled back with one of those new glitzy clips. She decides to ignore Doug and focus on me. “We should call my cousin Bobby. He can just explain to his wife that he owes me a favor that he didn’t get a chance to do before he got married. I’ll bet she’d understand if he comes down.”
    “Would you understand if your husband decided to go on a date less than a week after you married him?”
    “Well, no, I guess not.”
    “Besides, there’s no plane that would get him here fast enough. I should have hired an actor to be my date.”
    “You were going to hire someone?” Doug lifts his head up. I notice some of his color has come back. “How much were you going to pay?”
    “Don’t get your hopes up,” I say to Doug. “If I had hired an actor, I would have expected some acting.”
    I would have at least expected him not to faint when my aunt asked a simple question.
    “You don’t need an actor to pretend to be your date,” Cassie