On This Day Read Free Page B

the middle of the sticks. Nothing could’ ve gotten me ready for this.
    So I’m down here where a fairly nice luncheon is set up under one of those big white canopies that people like to use for outdoor wedding receptions. It wouldn’t be so bad except my spike heels keep getting stuck in the damp grass. I suppose I should’ve worn flats, but they are so unbecoming. And on top of everything else, these chairs are rather tippy on this uneven surface, or maybe it’s that second martini I sneaked in at the bar in the lodge. At least I’m seated now, even if no one, including David’s frumpy wife, wishes to speak to me.
    I glance around again, trying not to reveal how uncomfortable I feel about being here without Jim by my side. Then I realize I’m not the only one without an escort. First of all, even though it’s not much, there is Laura. And then there’s that elderly woman, who looks to be nearly a hundred years old with her thinning white hair and wrinkled face—hasn’t she ever heard of Botox? She seems so out of place that I wonder if she’s even supposed to be here. Perhaps she just wandered in off the street, although that seems unlikely in this remote location. Still, now that I think of it, I haven’t seen her speaking with anyone, either. She just sits there stirring her tea with the blankest expression across her face. Perhaps she’s senile or suffers from Alzheimer’s, and perhaps her family, weary of caring for her, has dropped her off in the woods to fend for herself for the weekend. Because, honestly, I can’t imagine how someone her age could’ve gotten all the way up here on her own, and it does appear that she is alone. I can tell by the look in her eyes. Mymother used to get that look sometimes. Goodness, I hope I don’t look like that right now. I force a smile, remind myself I’m not really alone, then order a glass of wine from the waiter.
    After all, Jim did promise to meet me down here for this luncheon, and he said he wouldn’t be late, either. Although he is. Still, pretending not to be irked, I smile pleasantly as an attractive woman takes the seat to my right, and immediately I notice that she, too, is alone. She seems fairly normal. Her name, she politely tells me, is Elizabeth, and she is the bride’s aunt on the mother’s side. She seems nice and about my age or possibly a bit older. At least she looks older than me, and everyone says I look quite young for forty—not that I let on about my age unless I have to.
    “It’s such a lovely day,” she says in a friendly tone. And then we chat a bit. To my surprise, I feel myself relaxing around her, but that’s probably because, despite her well-put-together appearance (she could pass for someone of influence), she’s not anyone I need to impress. Just a relative of the bride’s. Although it is a comfort to me that she also is waiting for her husband to arrive.
    “We seem to be a table of stood-up women,” she jokes. I laugh, but I still feel awkward with this empty chair next to mine, as if I’m the kind of woman who would come to a wedding minus an escort. I wish Jim would hurry and get here. I would’ve called him ten minutes ago, except we’re so far removed from civilized society that most of the cell phones, including mine, don’t work up here! To keep from looking too pitiful (like that pathetic Laura Fairbanks over there), I guess I’ll simply have to chum up with thebrides aunt until Jim shows. I suppose it’s better than looking lonely and forlorn by myself. And at least she’s well dressed, although I can’t quite figure out the designer of her suit.
    “That’s a lovely suit,” I tell her. “May I ask who designed it?”
    She laughs. “Actually it’s just a DKNY.”
    I blink but try to disguise my disapproval. I hate it when people think I’m a fashion snob. “Well, Donna Karan is a nice, moderately priced designer.”
    She shrugs. “I found it on the sale rack.”
    I nod, wondering why she