Painting Naked (Macmillan New Writing) (38 page)

Dutch sits beside his sister-in-law, a friend of Lizzie’s from Atlanta. Her paisley silk scarf flutters in the breeze. Dutch pats it down and leaves his arm draped across the back of her chair. He wears khakis and a safari jacket and he winks as I pass by. It’s his reunion weekend, but he said he’d have come up anyway. Harriet gives a discreet wave and Beatrice flashes me a thumbs up. I’d have loved for Sophie to be here. She called this morning to wish us all a happy day. Claudia chimed in and told me to be nice to lovely Tom, then admitted he came to see her in the hospital a few hours before leaving London. He never said a word to me. I’ll have to ask him about that.

Lizzie’s family, and mine, take up the front row. I see my sons, handsome in navy blazers and gray flannel slacks. Jordan holds hands with Bridget, elegant in green linen that matches her pretty eyes. Paige and Joel stand with Lizzie’s son, Adam, tall and straight in air force dress blues. Behind them, Carrie and her husband, Steve, watch their little girl with pride. Molly’s doing a helluva job with those petals. One just landed on my nose.

The music soars and I hear waves crashing up the beach. A lone seagull waddles across the dunes. Only a few more steps. God forbid I catch a heel in the grass. Should’ve worn flats, not these outrageous shoes. Did I remember to warn the caterers about my cat? He’ll scarf down the food if they don’t cover it up.

The justice of the peace smiles and gestures to both men. Fergus, almost unrecognizable in suit and tie, reaches for Lizzie’s hand. Tom grasps mine. I glance at him and nod, then we step to one side and watch as the two McKennas get on with the joyful task of marrying one another, all over again.