by Joanne Pence
Chapter 17
Saturday, 3 p.m. – the time of the wedding
Angie’s heart was beating so hard she thought she would faint. For the first time, she understood why a bride usually had her father or some other person escort her down the aisle.
The guests had all been seated. She knew Paavo and his grooms had entered from the side door and were waiting at the altar.
Connie made sure Angie’s dress and veil looked perfect, and when everyone was in place, she nodded at the church assistant who then opened the church doors and gave the cue to the organist to begin to play.
Angie held her elbows out, grasping the bouquet at her waist. She pushed her shoulders back, lifted her head high, and then placed her right hand on her father’s forearm. Salvatore Amalfi, somewhat gaunt due to his heart condition, as tall as Paavo, hawk-nosed, and olive-skinned, smiled at her, beaming encouragement. She didn’t think she could move.
She was glad she had chosen Wagner’s Bridal Chorus as her wedding march. Yes, it was the boring old “Here Comes the Bride,” but it was also the song she had imagined hearing on her wedding day from the time she was a little girl. It was the song her mother, her sisters, and her married cousins had all used. As the doors to the church opened, and the first chords began, it filled her heart.
Her mother went first, followed by Bianca, Caterina, Maria, Francesca and then Connie. After her, Micky walked alone, holding a pillow with the rings, and Michaela, the flower girl, trotted behind him strewing rose petals as she went.
Finally, Angie and her father entered the church. She could hear the oohs and aahs from the amazingly large crowd, and saw them surge towards the center aisle as she and Sal slowly moved down it, but most of all she saw Paavo waiting for her. He looked more handsome than she could have imagined in a black tuxedo. She was vaguely aware of his best man and groomsmen behind him, and the priest and deacon standing in front of the altar festooned with flowers. She remembered catching the warmth in some people’s eyes as she passed them, and of smiling, but she couldn’t have named who she smiled at or who stood nearby.
All she knew was that before long, her father left her side, and Paavo took his place. Connie lifted away her bouquet as she and Paavo listened to the words of the priest.
Everything went as it should. No one stood up to object to the wedding. No cell phone rang, no SWAT team descended on them. Not even a minor earthquake. Nothing horrible happened to ruin the moment.
Somehow, Paavo managed to speak his vows (and didn’t, as he’d threatened to do after hearing about one tongue-tied groom, call her his “waffle-wedded wife”), and she said hers, also without flubbing or bursting into tears. Then he lifted back the veil and kissed her. That was when her tears overflowed.
Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, the most joyous music she had ever heard, shook the rafters and rumbled in her stomach. Connie put her bouquet in her left hand, Paavo took hold of her right, and together the two of them held hands and hurried down the aisle, followed by their attendants.
And so, finally, they were married.
o0o
Angie felt her eyes well up again when she entered Richie’s nightclub.
Big Caesar’s was in the North Beach area, close to Fisherman’s Wharf. It was a fun place, popular for its elegant, retro dance club atmosphere with white cloth-covered tables around the dance floor, and where customers wore stylish cocktail dresses, beautifully cut suits, or even tuxedos to dance to swing and jazz music, both fast and slow, written anytime from the 1930’s to the present day.
Now, it had been turned into a white wonderland created by Connie and her sisters. She couldn’t believe all they’d done, the detail they had gone to with all the banners, napkins, ribbons—and her beautiful wedding cake at center stage.
Angie saw that already most of the guests had found the bar and were availing themselves of the huge offering—beer and most wines free, mixed drinks and premium wines at cost. The guests were an interesting mixture of relatives, family friends, Angie’s friends from school, cooking classes, and various jobs she’d had over the years, and lots and lots of police—cops from the precinct where Paavo worked before going to Homicide, and inspectors from different divisions, including CSI. He seemed to have a lot more friends than he thought. Even Medical Examiner Evelyn Ramirez had shown up.
Angie was also glad that people from Paavo’s boyhood, not only Doc Griggs, but also Joonas Maki, who had been close friends with Paavo’s father, were able to attend. They stood with Aulis Kokkonen talking over old times.
Richie emceed and introduced the wedding party, and then Maria’s husband, Dominic Klee and his band played the music for the newlywed’s first dance. Angie could find no more appropriate song, after all she and Paavo had been through, than “At Last.”
Angie’s father stood and thanked all the guests for coming, said a few words about the ‘baby’ of his family, his youngest, now being a married woman. He gave a blessing, and then the meal was served buffet style. It was an amazing feast of mostly Italian food—manicotti, cannelloni, ravioli, roast pork, lamb, antipasti, stuffed zucchini, and so on—but also with treats from other cuisines as well. Angie had to admit there was more in quantity, variety, and taste than she could have gotten from any caterer in the country. Even her friends from Wings of an Angel had contributed, including Butch’s ‘special’ spaghetti sauce. She hoped he would keep his secret ingredient to himself, or he might be sued by the Italian Benevolent Association.
Best of all, everything had been made with love, which made it all taste even better.
While the food was being served buffet style, Angie saw Rebecca Mayfield enter the club looking prettier than Angie had ever seen her. She wore an emerald green cocktail dress, and her long blond hair softly cascaded down past her shoulders instead of being pulled back in a barrette, while her eyes had been made-up to seem even larger and bluer than usual.
Cousin Richie made a beeline for Rebecca, practically knocking over a young man who had just stepped up to talk to her. Rebecca’s eyes lit up when she first saw Richie, although she quickly dropped her gaze as if trying to hide it. Angie smiled to herself as Richie put a possessive hand on Rebecca’s waist and escorted her to the bar area. Whatever was going between them, it was not the “nothing” Richie had claimed it was.
Angie wondered if Richie had any inkling of what he was in for if he were to become serious about a homicide inspector—not only her crazy hours and weariness when pursuing a case, but the constant worry he’d have over the danger inherent in her going after murderers.
But then, Angie reminded herself that since Richie’s fiancée had been killed, he’d never been serious about any woman. Did he like being around them? Definitely. But serious? Not so much.
Finally, the food was cleared, and the dancing began, starting with the father-daughter dance to The Way You Look Tonight. Half way through, they were joined by Paavo and Serefina, and soon after, Paavo turned Serefina over to Sal, while Angie brought Aulis Kokkonen onto the floor to finish the dance.
Angie couldn’t help but remember how, when she first met Paavo, he had to accompany her to a family wedding because she was an eye-witness to a murder and her life was in danger. When the music started, he had asked her to dance. She decided a stiff, homicide detective like him—she’d called him The Great Stoneface back then—wouldn’t know how to dance. So then he asked Serefina while she stood there holding up the walls. He’d won Serefina’s heart that day, and Angie had learned that he could, in fact, dance very well.
More songs played, and before long, almost everyone was dancing, or drinking, or eating the goodies that remained on the dessert table. As Angie and Paavo circulated to talk to the guests and thank them for coming, she felt good that not only did everyone seem to be having a good time, but they seemed thrilled by the food and location of the reception. She noticed, too, that Richie monopolized Rebecca’s time on the dance floor, as well as when she wasn’t dancing, and that Rebecca s
eemed to be enjoying every minute with him.
Angie was talking to Connie when a man she hadn’t seen for quite a while came up to them. She had tried hard to find him, and when she succeeded, she sent him a thoughtful and personal invitation. He hadn’t sent a response, and she hadn’t expected him to show up. But he did. “Max Squire,” she said.
Connie spun around, and her face brightened with surprise and something more. Connie had cared about Max, but when they met, he was going through a very difficult time, and nothing ever came of it.
Angie hoped that enough time had passed that he might be ready to look at life anew, to make a fresh start.
“Thank you for coming, Max,” Angie said. “I’m sure you and Connie have much to catch up on, so I’ll leave you two alone.”
He could barely tear his eyes from Connie’s but he managed to murmur “Congratulations,” to Angie and to thank her for inviting him. He had gone to the wrong location, but a sign was posted on the door directing people here.
Angie nodded, glad to hear it. She found Paavo and pointed out Max. Paavo said “Good,” and was about to add something more, when his face froze and he stiffened. “Excuse me,” he murmured.
“What is it?” Angie asked, stunned by the sudden change in him. She started to go after him, but then stopped.
The music was an old ballad, Unforgettable, and that was what she knew this moment would always be for herself, for Paavo, and for the older woman whose hand he took. He led the woman to the dance floor and put his arm around her. She held herself stiffly even as she put one hand on his shoulder, the other in his. Her skin was well tanned, her hair short and gray. She was tall and trim, and she wore a simple cream-colored dress. Her gaze never wavered from Paavo, and it was filled with pride and love.
Angie watched the two of them dance, and when the song ended, Paavo and the woman walked out of the room.
Probably a few people, not many, noticed the stranger among them. She imagined they assumed the woman was someone Paavo had once helped during one of his cases. They would never know the truth, and she would never tell them. All she knew was that she was thankful her message, sent through Aulis Kokkonen, had somehow reached her, and she had found the strength, and the courage, to come.
Angie was standing alone, thinking about how joyful she felt for Paavo’s sake, when Richie grabbed her hand and pulled her to the middle of the dance floor. “Now what?” she asked.
A few people stopped what they were doing to watch. Rebecca Mayfield smiled broadly at them.
Richie took off his jacket and a friend grabbed it. Then he took off his necktie and tossed it to one of Angie’s old high school girlfriends standing nearby. She winked and smiled as she caught it.
“Friends,” Angie said to their quickly growing audience. “I have not asked him to do a striptease!”
Laughter, hoots, and catcalls sounded.
He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, then unbuttoned its cuffs.
“Richie, let me remind you, this reception is full of cops!”
More laughter.
He folded back the sleeves of his shirt, nodded at the band and they started playing the tarantella, the classic, ageless southern Italian folk music. She, her family, and other relatives always danced it at parties and picnics when she was growing up.
“Come on, Angie, let’s show them how it’s done,” he said, and raised one arm, the other at the small of his back in the traditional stance. She laughed; then, as people clapped in time with the music, with each hand she took a handful of the skirt of her wedding dress, and lifted it slightly from the ground as her feet immediately remembered the jumping two-step. She swished her skirts from side to side as she and Richie twirled round and round in time with the fun, flirtatious song being played. Soon, Richie got his mother to come onto the floor with them, then Serefina, and soon others in the family joined in as well.
Angie used to call the tune “zooma zooma bacala” because the actual Italian words were complicated. Only when she got older and understood what was being said did she realize why everyone would laugh so uproariously when anyone sang those words about the young woman who desperately wanted to get married. She’d tell her mother about each of her suitors, and the mother would have some choice comments about every one of them—starting with the butcher boy and his “meat.”
Angie saw Paavo reenter the ballroom alone. He smiled broadly at the sight of her out there dancing with Richie and everyone else. He looked happy. And so was she.
The tarantella broke the ice, and before she knew it, other men followed Richie’s lead and removed their own jackets and ties, and headed for the dance floor, singing and dancing. Young and old, cops and “civilians” were having fun, and a number of them mixing with each other, which was something that Angie, an acknowledged people-watcher, hadn’t expected. It was soon obvious that some of her girlfriends also had a thing for a guy in a uniform, even if his uniform was currently at home.
The time then came for Yosh to make his toast. Everyone sat, champagne glasses filled and ready, as Paavo’s partner stood.
“It’s my honor to toast Angie and Paavo on the day of their wedding,” Yosh began. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with Paavo for some time now, and a better, truer partner no one could ask for. He’s always had my back, and I’ve always tried to have his. We all know about his background, how much of a loner he was through most of his life, and how much Aulis Kokkonen meant to him throughout all those years—Aulis was the rock he needed to grow into the man he became. But he was still alone, until one day, he met a very pretty, very rich young woman who someone wanted dead. Paavo managed to keep her alive, and to his—and everyone else’s shock—that little bit of a woman managed to save his life as well. As much as he tried to leave her after that, she knew he didn’t really want to go, and she didn’t want him to, which finally brought them to this happy day. Most best man’s toasts have funny stories about the groom, but in our line of work, not much humorous happens—unless you’re talking about the time Angie sent Homicide coffee and sandwiches, only the coffee was strawberry flavored, the sandwiches were little heart-shaped things filled with watercress or liver pâté, and nobody wanted to tell Paavo what we thought of his fiancée’s taste.” Chuckles and groans ensued. “Then, there was also the time she hired a singer to serenade him, but the guy turned up at a crime scene to loudly sing ‘O Sole Mio.’” Everyone laughed out loud at that. “It took a long time for Paavo to live that one down.” Yosh lifted his glass to the couple, and everyone stood and did the same. “It’s been quite a ride, partner. And I know that your life, with Angie—thank God you came to your senses and finally proposed to her—will be even better. Congratulations to you both.”
Next, the cake cutting ceremony began with lots of picture-taking, jokes, and well wishes. After the cake was cut, eaten and a few more songs played, Angie’s Big Day was almost over. She only had to toss her bouquet, and then she and Paavo would leave the festivities to everyone else as they drove off to start their honeymoon and their life together.
“Are you ready?” Connie asked. Angie had noticed that ever since Max Squire entered the reception, Connie had scarcely left his side, other than to get Stan Bonnette some Tums when he was in pain from having over-eaten.
“I am,” Angie said, and Connie handed her the bouquet. Quickly, all the single girls stood in front of her as she went up onto the stage.
She looked over the group, and saw Connie standing at the right-most edge, at the very back. It was going to be a long toss, but she could do it. “Is everyone ready to see who’ll be the next bride?” she asked.
As the group roared “Yes!” she turned her back to them, and with a mighty heave, sent her bouquet way up into the air, and then quickly turned around to see if she had aimed correctly.
All the hands were outstretched, and Angie watched in horror as one woman leaped to grab the bouquet as it sailed directly towards Connie. But the woman’s timing as well as h
er catching ability were off, so her hands were still going upward when the bouquet passed overhead, causing her fingertips to hit the flowery missile, making it bounce upward yet again. Connie’s face showed her dismay as the treasured orb flew over her head and sailed directly towards, of all people, Cousin Richie.
He looked absolutely horrified as the flying flowers catapulted towards him. He ducked.
Rebecca had been behind him, clearly wanting nothing to do with bouquets or weddings. Out of pure reflex and self-preservation, she tried to take a big step backwards, but in a tight dress and high heels instead of her usual slacks and boots, she wobbled and her arms raised up in an attempt to keep her balance. The bouquet landed snuggly within them.
She stood open mouthed, gaping at it as if it were some mysterious creature from another planet as everyone clapped and cheered.
Richie righted himself, looking every bit as stunned as Rebecca.
The two stared at each other. Rebecca’s eyes widened, and then they both did an about-face and hurried off in opposite directions.
As Paavo helped Angie from the stage, they couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene that had just played out in front of them and everyone else.
“It’s time for us to be on our way,” Angie said as she took his arm and leaned close, filled with joy to soon be leaving the reception and to be alone with her new husband. “But something tells me another story is just beginning.”
Paavo turned her away from the crowd, so that they only saw each other. “If so, may their days be filled with love and joy the way mine have been from the time we met. I love you, Miss Amalfi, even if I won’t be calling you that anymore. And I always will.”
She stepped closer to him. “And I love you, Inspector Smith. Forever.”
