by R. S. Lively
"Emma?"
I see Grant standing at the door as I walk down the stairs, and my breath catches in my chest. He's wearing the long black coat he did on Thanksgiving but has traded the black shirt for a more seasonal wine-colored sweater that accentuates his wide chest and shoulders, and the tight nip of his waist. He's holding a shimmering, silver-wrapped gift in one hand, and a poinsettia in the other. Grant looks like he belongs in a promo shot for one of the sappy Hallmark movies Mom and I are planning on watching all night.
A smile curves his lips as he watches me come down the stairs and walk up to him.
"You look beautiful," he says.
Part of me expects him to scoop me up into his arms and carry me up the stairs and directly into my bedroom. Instead, he runs his fingers along the curve of my face, sending tingles along my skin.
"Merry Christmas," I say softly.
"Merry Christmas." He dips his head down for a soft kiss, and I feel myself melting into him. When our lips part, he guides me over to the couch and we sit. He holds the poinsettia out to me. "This is for your mother," he says.
"Thank you. I know she'll love it. I'll bring it to her tonight."
"And this is for you."
He offers me the silver box, and I put the flower down on the coffee table so I can accept it.
"Just a second," I say.
I get up and scurry over to the Christmas tree. A few gifts sit in a neat little pile under the twinkling branches, and I pick up a narrow box wrapped in snowman-themed wrapping paper. Sitting back on the couch beside Grant, I hold the gift out to him. He smiles as he takes it.
"What's this?" he asks.
"I think you're supposed to open it," I say. "You go first."
The thought of choosing a Christmas present for him had been intimidating, but as soon as I saw this, I knew it was what I wanted to give him. He rips away the paper and evaluates the plain white cardboard box in his hand for a second. When he sees there's no writing on it, he pops open one of the ends, and pulls out the bubble-wrapped item inside. Looking at me questioningly, he peels away the tiny piece of tape holding the clear wrap closed and unwraps it the rest of the way. As soon as he sees the gift, he laughs.
"I figured that although you have the fork market cornered, your spoon game was a little lacking."
He turns the souvenir spoon over in his hand, looking at all the details. It's from one of our bucket list stops, snagged from a gift shop we stopped at after taking a detour on the whim of a client.
"It's fantastic," he says. "Thank you."
He kisses me, then points the spoon toward the box in my hands.
"Your turn."
I don't know what to expect as I open the gift. Removing the paper reveals a jewelry box, and my hand shakes slightly as I open the lid. Nestled on a velvet pad is a charm bracelet. My throat tightens when I see the single charm hanging from the delicate gold chain. Grant takes the box from my hand and removes the bracelet. He gently secures it around my wrist and turns my hand over to touch a kiss to the center of my palm. As he sits up, I run my fingertip along the tiny diamond-encrusted ice cream cone.
"I love it," I say. "Thank you."
Our eyes meet, and I can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.
"I'm glad," he says. "I had it made for you."
"It's perfect."
He kisses me again and rests his forehead against mine.
"I'll miss you tomorrow," he says.
It's unexpected, and my heart involuntarily skips a beat.
"I'll miss you, too," I tell him. “Look on the bright side – maybe your dad got all of you matching elf outfits.”
"That's a vision," he says with a laugh.
"And just think, when Christmas is over, we have a luxurious five days to finish planning this mass wedding."
"Well…" he says.
"Well? What do you mean 'well'? You're not going to tell me it's now a Christmas wedding, are you?"
Grant laughs.
"No," he says. "It's still happening on New Year's Eve. It's just not a mass wedding anymore."
"What happened?"
"Apparently, all those couples who say they wanted something interesting and different decided they meant more along the lines of whoopie pies at their reception than a spontaneous New Year's Eve ceremony."
"Whoopie pies," I say. "Living on the edge."
"They might even go for more than one flavor. But they're still debating. One couple, though, is all in. They’re really excited about it. They've already sent me their RSVP list, and by the looks of it, their friends and family are all in, too."
"That's great. I hope we can give them the wedding of their dreams."
"I think we will," he says. "Everything has come together well. I think Mr. Kleinfelder will be really happy."
New Year's Eve…
"Mr. Kleinfelder is going to be pissed."
"I know."
I whirl around to look at Grant.
"What the hell happened?"
"Apparently they had a huge fight."
"Just yesterday they were walking around the venue saying it was the most beautiful space they had ever seen, and talking about how they can’t wait to share these memories with their children one day… I don’t get it."
"From what I understand, she wants to name their first son Ned, and that was the last straw for the groom. He’s now convinced that she’s setting him up for a life of misery."
"Is she pregnant?" I ask, worrying about the several glasses of champagne I saw her sipping as she wandered through the gorgeous outdoor location Grant chose.
"Hmm… Not that I know of," he replies.
I blink a few times, waiting for the rest of the story. It never comes.
"They seriously ended their engagement the morning of their wedding because they disagreed over the future of their non-existent child?" I ask.
"That's what I got out of the shrieking voice message."
"She was really upset?"
"It was from the groom."
"Fantastic." I run my fingers back through my hair. "So, what now? I guess we have to go tell Mr. Kleinfelder the wedding's off?"
"We can't"
"What do you mean we can't?" I ask.
"This request means so much to him," Grant says. "We've gone through a lot to set it up for him, and ensure that he can complete his bucket list. You should have seen how happy he was this morning when I went to talk to him about it. He's been practicing the speech he came up with for days. He's even written a couple of jokes to break the tension. They don't make any sense, but he thinks they're hilarious, so that's really all that matters. We can't just tell him it's off."
"Grant, I understand this means a lot to Mr. Kleinfelder. And I hate the thought of upsetting him. He is quite possibly the most adorable old man I have ever met in my life, and I would like nothing more than to see him happy. But, that doesn’t change the fact that the bride and groom broke up. We don't have a couple to get married. He can't officiate a wedding if there's no bride and groom."
Grant's expression shifts, and I swear I can see the gears turning in his head.
"The wedding can still happen," he mutters.
"I don't know why, but I don't like the way that sounds."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"That bride and groom might have broken up, but that doesn't mean we can't have a wedding," he says.
"I'm not following you," I say.
"Actually," he says, taking my wrist and pulling me out of the room. "That's exactly what you're doing."
"Where are we going?" I ask as we run down the hallway, and out of the small hotel we're using as home base for the wedding.
"You're just going to have to trust me," he says.
"That's not what somebody says before they do something trustworthy," I point out. "We need to go talk to Mr. Kleinfelder. The wedding is supposed to be in ten hours. We can't just let him keep practicing his speech and telling bad jokes to himse
lf. We need to let him know this isn't going to happen."
"It is going to happen," Grant says. "He's going to have a wedding to officiate tonight. Ten hours is plenty of time for us to make it happen. We already have the hotel, the ceremony site, and the officiant. All we need is two people to stand in front of Mr. Kleinfelder and repeat a few words he says."
"How romantic," I say. We get outside the parking lot, and climb into Grant's car. "Where do you think we're going to find a couple willing to get married in a few hours? And even if we do find a couple that spontaneous, it's still New Year's Eve. We're not going to be able to get them a marriage license in time."
"We can in Magnolia Falls," Grant says.
His eyes remain focused on the road ahead of him the entire trip back to Magnolia Falls. It isn't far, but my anxiety, and curiosity, increases with every passing moment. Grant is completely driven to make sure Mr. Kleinfelder gets exactly what he wants, but I don't see how it's possible to fix this. I know he's right about being able to get the marriage license in Magnolia Falls, though. Eloise down at the courthouse takes her responsibilities extremely seriously and won't shut the clerk's office down for anything. Every day of the year, she sits there behind her desk, just waiting for someone to need a license or a permit. She always likes to say the law never sleeps, so she doesn't, either. That's not entirely true. I know for a fact she has a hammock slung up in the back room and is known to crawl under her desk for the occasional brief nap when things are slow.
Like on New Year's Eve.
I keep waiting for Grant to pick up his phone and call somebody. He never mentioned who he has in mind for the last-minute replacement, and hasn’t contacted anyone since we started driving. I'm starting to get a strange feeling in my stomach as the ferry carries us over to the island, and it only increases when we skid into the small public lot that allows people to park their cars before heading to Main Street. As soon as his seatbelt is off, Grant throws himself out of the car and runs around to my door.
"Come on," he says.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
I run with him up the stairs to the door of the courthouse, and he stops. Turning to me, he takes both of my hands and looks me in the eye.
"We're getting married," he says.
Grant
All the color drains from Emma's face, and her expression becomes almost panicked. I probably should have chosen my words better.
"Not really married," I add hastily. "Not, like, for real."
"Wow, that’s really romantic," she says. "Do you want to take it back a few more years, maybe? Ask me to spend recess with you?"
"That didn't come out how I meant it. I promise that wasn't your proposal." We stare into each other's eyes for a moment before I reach for the handle of the door. "We’re going to fix this situation, Em."
"I'm not following you, Grant. Both in what you're saying and into that building."
She starts down the steps again, but I take her hand and pull her up to stand beside me.
"You said it yourself. We can't have a wedding without a couple, and we are currently down a bride and groom for Mr. Kleinfelder’s last bucket list item. I'm not ready to give up. I've never completely failed a bucket list request before. I've never agreed to do something, and been unable to follow through with it. I’m not really keen on starting that habit now. This one thing is all he's asking."
"You make it sound like he isn't asking to bring two people together for a lifelong commitment," Emma says.
"That's just it," I say. "It doesn't have to be a lifelong commitment."
"Fantastic," she says. "Maybe you can find a client who wants to be a divorce lawyer for a day and get a twofer out of this."
"Emma, that's not what I mean. I'd never ask you to marry me with the intention of divorcing you. What I'm saying is this doesn't have to be a real marriage. Mr. Kleinfelder just wants to be the officiant of a wedding. He just wants to stand up, do his speech, and listen to people recite their vows. That's it. He can do all of that without a real marriage taking place. You and I can tell him we decided to take advantage of this opportunity to get married and show him a license so it looks legit. We go through with the ceremony, but never sign or file the license."
"Isn't this unethical?" she asks.
“I don’t think so. He'll never know it isn’t real. This is just like one of the plays you used to act in. We're only playing the role of the married couple. This way, Kleinie is still happy."
"Kleinie?" she asks.
I shrug.
"I feel like he needs a nickname. He really is adorable."
She sighs.
"Damn it," she finally relents. "You’re right. Why does he have to be so cute?" She looks at me. "What if someone in Magnolia Falls finds out?"
"Who's going to find out?" I ask. "No one there even knew the couple. They weren't invited to the wedding. Unless we decide to take out a wedding announcement in the Magpie, I don't know how any of them would find out."
"It won’t be real?"
"No."
I can feel the seconds ticking by, and know we are running out of time to get back to the venue in time for the ceremony. She finally nods.
"Alright," she says. "I'll do it." We start through the door, but she suddenly grabs my arm. I look at her startled expression. "Oh, no."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"What am I going to wear?"
Mr. Alexander was more than happy to oblige when I called to let him know I needed a gown, especially after mentioning a hefty tip would be involved. By the amount of glitter on his skin when he showed up at the Gownstravaganza half an hour later, it appeared that we had taken him away from a special event of his own. After convincing him the work function we were attending had a strict black-and-white dress code, we walked out of the shop with a white gown she'd concealed in a black garment bag.
The ceremony is less than twenty minutes away by the time I’m dressed in a sleek black tuxedo. After fastening my cufflinks, I head in the direction of the small tent I arranged for Mr. Kleinfelder to use while preparing for the ceremony.
As I stroll inside, Mr. Kleinfelder looks up at me, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Are you ready to perform the ceremony?" I ask.
"I think so," he says, "but I'm confused. Why are you in a tux? Where are the bride and groom, and their guests?"
"I know," I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulders to start guiding him to the altar. "There was a change of plans, and the original couple who were going to get married tonight decided they weren't quite ready to take that step in their relationship. But their cancelation gave us an amazing opportunity, and I decided to take it."
"With who?" he asks.
"Emma.”
"Emma? Really?" he asks. "I didn't realize the two of you were…"
"Oh, we are," I say before he can give me something to agree to. "We hadn't really discussed getting married, but as soon as the opportunity presented itself, we knew it was the right thing to do. We hope that's alright with you."
"Do you have a license?" he asks.
"Absolutely," I say.
His crinkly little face breaks into a kind smile.
"Perfect. Let's get started."
Mr. Kleinfelder and I take our places at the head of aisle. A few seconds later, music rises up around us, and I look up to see Emma appear ahead of me. I'm surprised by the shiver that rolls through me when I see her in the wedding gown. She and Mr. Alexander had been so secretive while they pawed through the racks of gowns in the boutique, and then disappeared into the mysterious back room to what I could only imagine were the stashes of top-secret dresses he keeps hidden from the eyes of the common shopper. Now I know it was worth the wait.
The dress Emma chose fits her like it was custom made. The lace silhouette hugs her beautiful curves, accentuating her waist, and the full, lush swell of her hips. The temperature has dropped significantly since this afternoon, and Emma has prepared for the chill with a thi
ck white capelet draped around her shoulders, clasped at the front with an elaborate gold brooch.
When she walks, she glides, her body moving calmly and with complete control. Emma looks ethereal and beautiful as she comes my way. Even though this is all pretend and for the benefit of the elderly man beaming beside me as he grips a little book filled with notes and terrible jokes, she is a truly stunning bride.
The music fades as she steps up beside me at the altar. There is no one to take the small bouquet of dark red roses she held close as she made her way toward me, so Emma carefully places it on the edge of the table in front of Mr. Kleinfelder and rests her hands into my open palms. I close my fingers around hers, and we both take a step toward each other. I know Mr. Kleinfelder is talking. I can hear it faintly in the back of my mind, but I can't quite make out the words. I'm too focused on staring into Emma's eyes, and watching the hint of a smile twitching on her lips. A tense ripple of laughter moves through the crowd of waitstaff and event coordinators in attendance. That means it's almost time for our vows. I don't know if Brandy and Ethan wrote their own or were planning on going with something more traditional. I guess it doesn’t really matter at this point.
"Do you have the rings?"
It's the first set of words I fully understand, and I turn to look at Mr. Kleinfelder. He's looking at me expectantly, and I reach into the pocket of my jacket to fish out the simple band I bought before leaving Magnolia Falls. It's amazing how many businesses on the island shuttered tight for the holiday will spring back open after being promised a hefty sum to dig them out of their holiday-induced deficit. I notice Emma gently untying a larger band from a narrow blue ribbon tied around her wrist. When we're both holding the bands, Mr. Kleinfelder begins the vows. They are simple and traditional, and I'm strangely touched by them. I had been trying to come up with what I'd say if we were expected to recite our own vows, and had been ready to wax poetic. Now, though, as I'm listening to the tried-and-true words, I feel inexplicably glad that this is what the Kleinie chose for the wedding.
