Cara burst out laughing. She could always count on Emmi to lighten her mood.
“If anyone is going to get twitters from the back row, it’s me,” Emmi added. “I’m the sorry old divorced woman walking down the aisle.” She pointed her finger. “And there’s no way I’m going to catch your bouquet.”
“I won’t throw one. I promise.”
“Well, thank God for small mercies.”
Emmi looked at her hands, a bit large, tan, and freckled. Her nails were short and polished a spring pink. She wore no rings, but her gold pendulum earrings dangled. For a moment, she grew reflective. When she turned her gaze back to Cara, her tone was serious.
“Cara, who cares how old we are? We’re forever young, right? If you were one hundred years old, I’d still tell you to go for it. David wants you to have this wedding. He’s so excited he’s busting his buttons. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be jealous. I think it’s terribly romantic.”
“I think a quiet wedding with just David and me can be every bit as romantic.”
“That ship has sailed, my friend. You already announced your engagement to the world. You’ve made the public declaration. Besides, it’s all arranged.” Emmi gestured toward the big house in the distance. “It’s too late to back out now. Money’s been put down.” She paused for emphasis. “And now, we’re done talking. We are going inside to finalize the food, the flowers, the wine, the timeline, the tents, the number of chandeliers.… And don’t forget, I got my dress.”
Emmi was thrilled with all the details of this grand wedding. Cara looked at her friend, saw the hope for love still shining in her eyes, and it moved her. She hoped Emmi would find love again someday. Tom Peterson, her childhood love, had broken her heart after years of marriage. When he’d asked for a divorce, it seemed to have come out of nowhere. Emmi had been shaken to the core. She’d lost direction, her identity. It had taken Emmi a long time to recover. But she had. Now Emmi was strong and independent… but lonely. Especially since Cara had found David. Emmi had not been as fortunate. She’d dated a long stream of men over the years, some of them nice, but never one who had staying power. Cara had worried that a big wedding would be shoving her happiness in Emmi’s face; but quite the contrary, Emmi was all for it. Emmi was conservative in politics and loved glitter and romance. Cara was conservative in dress and freethinking. But they were sisters of the heart.
“Cara, don’t be selfish. Weddings are social events. You are celebrating announcing your commitment to the world.”
“That’s just it. I’m not making a commitment to the world. I’m making a commitment to David. My husband-to-be. To one person.”
Emmi raised a brow. “And that one person wants to invite his family and friends.”
Cara tapped her fingers with budding irritation and ground out, “I just feel forced into this—this huge event.” Her voice rose. “That I don’t even want!”
Emmi hesitated; her brows gathered. “I didn’t realize you were so angry.”
“I don’t know if I’m angry… just frustrated. Em, you’ve known me my whole life. I’m not into parties or big events. I’m more private. And now I’m having this enormous shindig and must walk down the aisle in a wedding gown. With all those eyes on me.”
“Then why did you say yes to all this?” Emmi asked with a hint of exasperation. “You could’ve stopped it before we got to this point.”
Cara looked down at her slim, French-manicured hand where it lay on her navy pencil skirt, over which she wore a crisp white shirt. Her only jewelry was the impressive diamond on her ring finger and small diamond studs in her ears.
There’d always been the slightest hint of competition in David’s mind for her affection, because he knew how deeply she’d loved her first husband. Cara would always love Brett Beauchamps. She’d loved him with her whole being. It had been a struggle not to feel guilt at falling in love with another man, as if she were cheating somehow. Over time, she’d resolved her grief, and she did love David, with her whole heart. And since it reassured him, she’d agreed to a grand wedding: dress, cake, décor, and—she glanced up at the impressive antebellum house—this gorgeous wedding venue.
“I’m doing this for David. He wanted me to have what he thought was the wedding of my dreams, because he believed I wanted it. At least, that was what he told me. I thought about it and realized that perhaps David was the one who wanted to have a big wedding. He wanted to announce to the world that we’re a couple. I don’t know, it seemed miserly of feeling to deny David this joy.” She shrugged. “He’d been sad for such a long time after the death of his wife. Then, of course, that brief debacle with Natalie.”
“So, you’re doing this for David.”
Cara nodded.
“Because you love him.” She waited for Cara to nod again.
“Yep. Head over heels.”
“Well, then!” Emmi lifted her hands. “That settles it. ‘Mahwage is what bwings us togethah today,’ ” she said, imitating the heavily accented line from the film The Princess Bride.
Cara had to laugh, captivated by her friend’s incorrigible sense of romance.
“Kiddo,” Emmi said with renewed seriousness, “if you’re going to do this, don’t be resentful.”
“You’re right, of course,” Cara agreed, her voice decisive. “No point in hashing this out over and over. I said yes and I should stop complaining. Let’s just chalk this up to last-minute wedding jitters.”
“You’re good?” Emmi asked, confirming.
Cara conjured up David’s image in her mind: his tanned face, soulful dark-brown eyes under bushy dark brows. She smiled. If she was totally honest, there was a part of her—hiding deep inside—that wanted to share the joy of the day and dance with her family and friends. She was, indeed, blessed to have the occasion for joy after so many days of sadness.
“I’m nervous,” Cara said with a laugh. “I still have to walk down the aisle. But, yes, I’m good.”
“You still need to get your dress—”
“One thing at a time.”
Emmi sat back with a huff. “Cara,” she said plaintively. “I’ve been working in women’s clothing for almost fifteen years.”
“Part-time…”
“Even still. I’ve worked minimum wage to salary. I’ve worked weekends and holidays and more overtime than I ever got paid for. For your information,” she said with a shake of her shoulders, “the women’s fashion buyer consults with me about purchases. And do you know what?”
Cara shook her head.
“You’ve never, not once, asked me for advice. Not on a dress for a date, or if the color was right for you, or—or even anything for Hope!”
Emmi put her hand up when Cara opened her mouth to speak. “I know our tastes are different. And you wouldn’t have to take my advice. But, it would’ve been nice to have been asked.”
“I didn’t know that mattered to you,” Cara said, genuinely surprised. She’d never meant to hurt Emmi, but it was true. Their taste in clothes was night-and-day different. Cara couldn’t imagine wearing some of the outfits Emmi put together. Not that they were bad, but they were definitely more colorful.