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Dale and Althea had already blasted a path on the way down to the church, so the return trip was fairly easy going. I started singing Good King Wenceslas and after a moment the others joined in. The few other pedestrians braving the snow waved and looked happy at the sound of our voices.
    Aunt Dot claims to be allergic to dogs, so we would be making only the briefest of stops at the luncheon. My aunt tended to do a lot of ‘salads’ in gelatin and other things I don’t care for on special occasions, so I didn’t feel deprived missing this meal. There was a nice crock of chili waiting for us at home.
    I hadn’t expected any show of tact on David’s part, but perhaps sensing the deep disapproval of my family— and Alex’s baleful glare— he elected not to attend what was mostly a family function. Dale might have wanted his best man at his side, but my family had numeric superiority.
    The house that Mom and Aunt Dot share is a single story bungalow built in the thirties. Very little has changed there in the last seventy years and I find this both a little sad and yet oddly reassuring. The house always smells a little of mothballs, Avon perfume (my aunt is a dealer) and bread. Not bad smells, but unusual enough to always make me pause on the threshold.
    Blue stayed in the entry hall while Alex and I ate a token amount of food, said all the things we were supposed to say to the bride and groom, and then departed amid reminders to be at the church by eleven o’clock so there would be time to dress. Althea was optimistic about the roads being plowed and staying clear, and she could be right since the city would do all it could to help Christmas Eve travelers go on their way safely. Still, there was a chance of the pews being less full than she would like.
    Other than showing up for the wedding, my duties as maid of honor were through. The florist would be delivering the extra poinsettias in tall, white baskets that would line the aisles, and the caterer was responsible for the food. It might have to be delivered by polar bears herded by elves, but it wasn’t my problem.
    Alex and I smiled and joined mittened hands as my aunt’s door closed behind us. Blue woofled contentedly. We were all happy to be going home.

Chapter 7

    Getting out of bed Christmas Eve morning was the sixth hardest thing I’ve ever done. No one else seemed to feel that we should be up and doing with a heart to any fate either, but Alex volunteered to make French toast and that helped a little.
    Ten-thirty rolled around all too quickly and it was time to head for the church. This time Blue couldn’t come. She was understanding, but I knew that deep inside she was depressed. Blue loves a party.
    The snow was melting but far from gone. Alex clung to me with the gentle determination of someone trying to keep a grip on a wiggling puppy. I wasn’t squirmy on purpose; the slush was slippery and my hands were full. He was taking my instructions to keep me and the garment bag holding the red satin dress out of the melting snow very much to heart. That was good. If I fell down in the sludge and muddied my hair Althea would really have something to remember the day by, and I didn’t particularly want to hear those kinds of remembrances or see the pictures for the next decade.
    Frozen red and gold banners hung from the infrequent streetlights, wishing joy to the world. The wind had died down and the cold felt less punishing as we trudged over the river and through the snow.
    Dressing in the restroom foyer of the church took little time since Mom and Aunt Dot were there to help and the space was reasonably roomy. Althea was amazingly calm and I envied her that serenity. I was coming down with stage fright and had to practice meditational breathing until I was handed my bouquet. The red roses were nearly scentless, but what perfume there was made me want to sneeze. Suppressing the urge soon became a greater worry.
    The harp was beautiful though, even through