"You sound like a foodie," Amelia said.

"I like to eat good food," Josie said, "but I can't cook it."

Amelia looked worried. "Um, Mom, I tried one. I didn't like the caviar."

"You will," Josie said. "It takes time for a great chef to develop her palate."

"But what if I don't?" Amelia was still anxious.

"Then you'll discover your own tastes," Josie said.

Josie barely had time to admire the other hors d'oeuvres before she was pulled back into the party. When the guests had settled onto the sofas and the conversation was a chatty buzz, Alyce clinked her gla.s.s.

"Let's toast the bride," she said, pouring another round of champagne. "Then, Josie, it's time to open your presents. Amelia, I have hostess duties, so I'll ask you to a.s.sist your mother as a bridesmaid."

Josie sat in a thronelike chair next to the pile of presents. The Wood Winds group had demonstrated its grat.i.tude with generous gifts of kitchenware. Amelia helped when Josie was puzzled by a gift.

"A Yukihira pot," Josie read on the box, and held the eight-inch pot awkwardly by the wooden handle.

"Awesome!" Amelia said. "Wait till we make miso soup. See the pouring spouts on the side?"

Laura's ruffle-trimmed coral bikini and cover-up were greeted with wolf whistles. "It's the same style Katy Perry wore," Josie's former teacher said.

"It's a little skimpy," Josie said.

"Not in the islands," Laura said. "You don't want to look dowdy on your honeymoon."

The church ladies had clubbed together for linens. Josie was touched that her mother gave the stand mixer Ted wanted. "I know the whole family will enjoy it," Jane said. "Now open your last present. It's from Alyce."

Josie stripped the silver paper off a flat box. Inside was a photo of a green yard with a family enjoying their deck. Josie saw a table with four chairs and a striped sun umbrella. A Photoshopped Amelia and Josie lounged on two chaises. Ted was grilling at the gas barbecue. Ted's dog, Festus, and his cat, Marmalade, waited by the grill for a burger. Harry was perched on Amelia's shoulder.

"It's my dream," Josie said, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Lift up the photo," Alyce said.

Under it was a gift certificate for a St. Louis outdoor furniture store. The amount would cover all the furniture and the grill.

"You made my dream come true," Josie said.

"No, you did that," Alyce said as the shower guests toasted her with champagne.

Chapter 37.

Friday, November 23 "Ready?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Josie said.

"I've never done this before," Jane said.

"Me, either," Josie said.

She took her mother's arm. She'd leaned on Jane for more than thirty years. Now Josie needed her again to walk down the aisle. b.u.t.terflies flapped in her stomach.

"Nervous?" Jane asked.

"No," Josie said. "I mean yes. It's after two o'clock. Let's go."

The Jewel Box was a crystal cathedral bathed in b.u.t.tery autumn light. Josie glided along the white runner, escorted by her mother.

The string quartet played a fanfare, the notes shimmering in the clear air.

"I'm glad you let Lenore give you that quartet," Jane said to her daughter. "Live music sounds so much better than tapes."

Josie nodded. The aisle seemed a thousand yards long.

"And we couldn't have had better weather if we'd ordered it," Jane said. "We've been through terrible storms."

"So we have," Josie said. "The weather's been scary, too." She grinned at her mother.

The Jewel Box's cantilevered walls were a towering fifty feet tall, but today the art deco landmark was Josie's sunlit secret garden. Poinsettias bloomed in impossible colors: cool whites, tender pinks, blazing reds. The showy tropical flowers were ma.s.sed against pygmy date palms and feathery tree ferns. Flower baskets trailed from the ceiling.

Josie and Jane glided down the Fountain Court to an elegant oasis of palms and flowers near the entrance, accompanied by the music and a soft chorus of whispers: "She's beautiful." . . . "Where did she get that jewelry?" . . . "Who would have guessed Josie could look so extraordinary?"

"They're right," Jane said. "You look beautiful. Your grandmother's brooch was meant for your wedding dress."

Josie's gown was deceptively simple: long and white with a V neck. On her left shoulder, Jane had pinned her mother's dramatic art deco pearl-and-diamond brooch.

"You could have sold that pin after my father left and made your life a lot easier," Josie said.

"I was saving it for this day," Jane said. "It was worth the struggle. And so were you." She gave a small, contented sigh.

"You look pretty good yourself, Mom," Josie said. Jane's pale pink dress and matching coat suited her complexion.

"I'm not sophisticated like Lenore," Jane began.

"Lenore is supposed to be admired," Josie said. "You're meant to be loved. I love you, Mom."

"You like the pink?" Jane asked. "I wanted to look special for you. Not many mothers get to escort their daughter down the aisle."

"Not many mothers worked so hard for that privilege," Josie said.

Now Josie saw the wedding party waiting at the palm oasis. Her two bridesmaids-Alyce in rich red velvet and Amelia in soft rose-seemed part of the floral show. On the groom's side, Ted's best friend and clinic partner, Christine, wore a stunning Stella McCartney tuxedo. Ted's groomsmen-Richard, his brother, and Christine's son, Todd, were blurs.

Josie was dazzled by her groom. Ted was a striking six feet tall, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. The fine tailoring made his shoulders seem broader. His brown hair was impossibly thick. Josie wanted to grab his hand and run away with him.

But she'd learned something planning this wedding. It wasn't her day, or Ted's. It belonged to their families.

A few more steps and Josie would be with Ted forever.

"Still nervous?" Jane asked, and squeezed Josie's hand.

"Not anymore," Josie said. "Not now when I see Ted ahead of me."

"That's your whole life ahead of you," Jane said.

Jane arranged Josie's sheer veil, gave her daughter a kiss, then took Ted's and Josie's hands. "Take care of each other," she said.

I will, Mom, Josie promised herself. I do.

Christine escorted Jane to her seat.

"You're beautiful," Ted whispered to Josie.

"So are you," Josie said. "I've never seen you in a tux."

"I added a few dog hairs so you'd recognize me," Ted said.

Josie giggled.

The minister, Ted's uncle, Bob Scottsmeyer, cleared his throat. Josie thought Reverend Uncle Bob could be a happy vision of her future. He had Ted's kind brown eyes, a sun-reddened outdoorsy face, and thick white hair.

"Reverend Uncle Bob could be my father's twin," Ted had told her. "He's the next best thing to having Dad here."

The minister was blessed with a resonant voice. "Today, it is my happy privilege to marry my nephew, Ted, and his bride, Josie," he said. "We're here to celebrate their new life together.

"Ted Scottsmeyer, do you take Josie Marcus for your lawful wedded wife? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, for as long as you both live?"

"I do." Ted's voice rang out in the vast gla.s.s building. For generations, couples had made that promise here, and would for years to come. Josie wanted to be part of this past and future love.

Reverend Uncle Bob said, "Josie Marcus, do you take Ted Scottsmeyer for your lawful wedded husband? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, for as long as you both live?"

"Oh, yes," Josie said. "I mean, I do."

The congregation laughed.

Alyce stepped forward to read Shakespeare's eighteenth sonnet in a clear voice.

"*Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?'" she began. "*Thou art more lovely and more temperate . . .'"

For almost four hundred years those words had enchanted lovers. Ted and Josie fell under their spell.

Only when Josie heard Alyce say, "*So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee,'" did Josie return to her wedding at the Jewel Box.

"It is time for the marriage vows," Reverend Uncle Bob said. "Ted, repeat after me. I, Ted Scottsmeyer, take you, Josie Marcus, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, till death parts us."

Josie and Ted had traded the old-school "obey" for "cherish." "I want an equal partner," he'd said.

He was uneasy about saying "till death parts us," but Josie insisted. "We're together until the very end," she'd said.

She repeated her vows, then Reverend Uncle Bob said, "May I have the bride's ring?"

Christine smoothly produced Josie's wedding ring. The minister blessed it and Ted slipped it on Josie's finger with the twin-diamond engagement ring. Now her wedding set was complete.

Alyce handed Reverend Uncle Bob Ted's gold band. He blessed it. Josie took it with trembling fingers, but she didn't drop the ring. She slid it on Ted's finger.

When the double-ring ceremony was completed, the string quartet burst into triumphant music. Josie had obsessed on choosing the right piece. Now they might as well have played "Pop Goes the Weasel" for all she noticed. The hundred or so guests vanished and it was only her and Ted.

She could hear Reverend Uncle Bob say, "May Ted and Josie continue to give, forgive, and receive more joy with each pa.s.sing day. May they have the love of their family, the support of their friends, long life, good health, and everlasting love.

"By the power vested in me, I now p.r.o.nounce Ted Scottsmeyer and Josie Marcus husband and wife. Ted and Josie, you may seal your promises with a kiss."

Their kiss was electric.

Reverend Uncle Bob raised his arms and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present this loving couple, Ted Scottsmeyer and Josie Marcus."

The rest of the day seemed to pa.s.s by in snapshots. Ted and Josie didn't walk down the aisle together. Their guests engulfed them in a flurry of kisses and congratulations.

For the first time, Josie noticed that Jack Weekler, Amelia's Canadian grandfather, was at the ceremony. "I'm happy for you, Josie," he whispered, but she heard the sadness in his voice. He'd wished Josie had married his son. But Nate was there, too. Josie could see him in Amelia's face. She looked blissfully happy with her grandfather. Josie made sure the photographer took their picture.

Josie had finally met Ted's stepfather at the rehearsal dinner the previous night. Whit Hall had flown up on his plane. He used a silver-headed cane at the wedding, but he would abandon it to dance with Lenore at the reception.

"You're even prettier than Ted said," Whit had told Josie. "Welcome to our family."

Lenore looked like a visitor from a distant, fashionable planet in her black designer dress. "You make a picture-perfect bride, my dear," she said.

And their pictures would be perfect. Josie knew it. She and Ted had hired the legendary Tom Hedtke, a former wire service photographer who was now the city's premier wedding specialist. The old cigar chomper told Josie, "I started shooting during Vietnam, then covered everything from wars to riots for the wires. I took a buyout at fifty-five and sat around getting fat. So I started doing weddings as a favor, and then I was back in the game again-fights, riots, action, and emotion. I'll have a team of photographers capture every moment of your day."

He did, too. The surprisingly agile Tom and his a.s.sistants climbed balconies, scaled staircases, and shot photos and video from impossible angles throughout the day. They took scads of photos in the flattering light of the Jewel Box. Tom nearly hung upside down taking video.

Richard, Ted's foolish brother, gave Josie a shy kiss. "May I call you Sis?" he asked.

"Of course," Josie said.

Josie's brother-in-law was not going to be a worry today. Last night, Richard had put plastic ice cubes with fake flies in them in the guests' water gla.s.ses at the Ritz.

Lenore had dragged her son out into the hall by his ear, as if he were seven years old. Alyce, coming out of the restroom, heard Lenore hiss, "I am mortified, Richard. You promised." Alyce slipped back behind the door to listen.

"Awww, Mom," he whined. "It didn't hurt anyone."

"It embarra.s.sed me!" Lenore thundered. "Your allowance is cut for one year. You will get a job. And if you ever pull another so-called joke again, you will be disinherited. Do you understand?"