Spare Change Read Free Page A

at the A & P seemed to be boggled
by the sight of her new diamond ring. “ You’re engaged?” he said; then he
stood there staring at her while a ripe cantaloupe rolled off the end of the
counter and splattered on the floor.
    None of this bothered Olivia as
she strolled around town shopping for a trousseau and looking every bit the
prospective bride. She never noticed how shopkeepers would cover their mouth
and giggle when she asked to see bridal veils and blue garters. She paid no
attention when Alma suggested rethinking retirement and she laughed out loud
when Mabel said she ought to have Charlie investigated by a private detective.
    O n the third Saturday in October,
Olivia Ann Westerly knew what sort of day it was long before she opened her
eyes. She’d imagined the sound of wedding bells in a dream which ended far too
soon; and she’d caught the fragrance of jasmine even though it was long past
the season for such a flower to be blooming. It was a morning that dawned with
a sun warm enough for anyone to believe it mid-August—a morning when crows had
the sound of songbirds and flowerbeds overflowed with blooms, a morning, no
doubt, that was an omen of good things to come.
    Olivia had always been a person given to superstition; and by the time
she turned twelve she had learned to understand omens—both good and bad. She
avoided stepping on sidewalk cracks, covered her eyes if she saw a black cat
and never, ever, planned anything important on the eleventh day of the month.
Experience had taught her that if anything bad was going to happen, it was going
to happen on the eleventh; and, she’d kept that in mind when they selected a
date for the wedding. Now, on this most glorious of all mornings, she had not a
care in the world—the eleventh of October had already come and gone and it
would be almost a full month before she’d have to face another one.      
    While the coffee perked, she hummed Here Comes the Bride and
painted her toenails pink. They’d be honeymooning in Miami Beach and as she
frolicked barefoot in the sand, Charlie, she hoped, would take notice. Once
they were back in their bedroom suite overlooking the ocean, she could imagine
him kissing her toes one by one. “My bride,” he’d whisper, “angel of my dreams.”
A shiver ran along her spine as Olivia thought back on how she’d foolishly
wasted all those years avoiding marriage; in actuality it was something that
made a person feel truly wonderful. Thank goodness I’ve come to my senses, she
told herself.
    As Olivia sat before the mirror and applied her make-up, she could
swear years had disappeared from her face. The wrinkles which had come to be
all too familiar were strangely enough missing; likewise the droop of her
cheeks and a few dark splotches. Her eyes were greener than she had ever known
them to be, blazingly brilliant, the color of a blade of grass on the first day
of spring. Quite obviously marriage was something which agreed with a woman of
any age.
    When the knock she had been
waiting for came, Olivia whooshed open the door with such enthusiasm that she
toppled over the potted philodendron which had been standing in the very same
spot for almost twenty years. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly. She then slipped
her hand into the crook of Charlie’s arm and strolled out the door, leaving the
shattered pot and a pile of dirt strewn across the floor. 
    A t Christ the Lord Church, there
were throngs of well-wishers filling the pews and spilling out into the
vestibule. Francine Burnam, who had arrived late due to a babysitting problem,
was standing outside the door dressed in a flowered hat and billowing voile
dress. “Warm, isn’t it,” she commented as the man alongside of her mopped his
brow. Inside the church, ladies were fanning themselves and men were discretely
loosening their ties. The day had been forecasted to be in the mid-seventies,
but before noon the temperature soared to eighty-six degrees. Olivia