"Everything is okay," Lola told her. "I was just wondering if you'd be available to walk me down the aisle tomorrow evening?"
There was a beat of silence before her granddaughter shrieked loudly enough that Lola pulled the phone away from her ear. Just in time, too, because a terrible banging clatter and a half dozen voices cried out in alarm in the background. Charlee shouted, "NANA! You found Sam? You're getting married? For real?Tomorrow? Is Mom coming? Can Steve and I host the reception? OH MY GOD!"
Lola, beaming, said, "Does that mean yes?"
"Yes of course it does oh my god I've got so much to do I love you congratulations bye! GUYS! GUYS! MY NANA IS GETTING MARR—" The phone went dead and Lola, climbing into Sam's car, shook with laughter.
"I take it your granddaughter approves," Sam said, and Lola leaned over to kiss him before buckling in.
"She seems to, yes. I think your poor secretary may bring you in for a mental examination, though. No, he won't," she decided happily. "Not once he's talked to Charlee and heard the whole story. Do we need paperwork?"
"We were both born here," Sam pointed out. "The county council office is going to have copies of most of our paperwork already. If there's anything else we need, I'll throw money at them until they decide it's not that important."
"Sam!"
"There has to be some advantage to being rich," Sam said. "Or, some advantage to being from a small town. Everybody knows your business here. One or the other, rich or everybody in your business, will do the trick."
"Everyoneisgoing to know our business by tomorrow afternoon," Lola admitted. "After living a life so I wouldn't draw attention, that sounds kind of wonderful."
They pulled up to the city hall a few minutes later, spilling out of the car like they were much younger than their actual years. Sam caught her hand and kissed her knuckles as he opened the city hall door for her. "Voila. They stayed open for us."
'They' had, in fact, gathered at the main desk of the stately old city hall building: two town clerks, a grey-haired woman in judges' robes who had come down from the courthouse on one side of the city hall, and the sheriff and a deputy who had come in from the sheriff's department on the other side. All five of them were waiting curiously as Sam strode up to the desk. "Thank you for staying open. We'd like to apply for a marriage license, please."
"At 6:03 in the evening?" one of the clerks asked. "I was on my wayhome."
"Patricia," the judge said sharply, and the woman looked sullen.
"Fine. Names?" Patricia's eyes widened as Sam gave his, and she shot a look first at the judge, then the sheriff, both of whom were doing a terrible job of hiding smiles. Lola didn't know why: they were both around ten years younger than she and Sam were, and she didn't suppose their names would mean anything to them.
Except they obviously did, and as they filled out the paperwork, it occurred to Lola that they'd been kids when Sam 'died' and she left town. In a place the size of Virtue, both of those things had probably made an impact. As the clerk looked over what they'd filled out, the judge said, "When's the wedding?"
"Tomorrow at…" Sam looked at his watch again. "Six thirteen p.m."
Amusement creased the judge's eyes. "Would you like it to be at a more convenient time tomorrow?"
"Yes," Lola said, amused, too. "It would probably make catering easier for Charlee. Or maybe not. But the law says twenty-four hours."
"The law says twenty-four hours unless a judge or magistrate tells you that you can get married earlier. I could marry you right now, if you wanted me to."
Hope leaped in Lola's heart. She and Sam turned to one another, enthralled with the idea until Lola laughed. "I just asked Charlee if she could walk me down the aisle, and she's not here, so we might have to wait until tomorrow after all."
"I'm available all day," the judge promised, and Lola, feeling like she was floating on air, walked back out into her home town with the man she loved.
CHAPTER12
"Where to?"Sam murmured into Lola's hair. "Shopping for a wedding dress? Out to dinner? Off on a honeymoon and to hell with actually getting married?" Any of those things sounded good to him, although at the moment, skipping across the town square like six-year-old Noah sounded good, too. He didn't think he could actuallydothat, and the half-frozen, half soggy ground would ruin his shoes if he did, but that wasn't the point. It was a clear, crisp evening, and for once, absolutely nothing was wrong with the world.
Lola's smile bubbled up. "I'm still full from that ice cream soda, and unless things havereallychanged in Virtue, I don't think there's anywhere to buy a wedding dress at all, never mind at six-fifteen in the evening."
"Some of the stores are still open," Sam said with a wave at the square. Not many of them were, actually: Kate's Cafe did lunch and lunch alone, the massage therapy clinic closed at six, as did the toy shop, and of course, none of those were places you could get a wedding dress, anyway. His gaze came to light on a storefront that still blazed with light, although it did so from behind curtains that blocked any hope of seeing inside. "Somebody did say something about there being a fashion designer in town. Arthur Lowell's son. Maybe we could talk to him."
"Arthur Lowell's son is afashiondesigner?" Lola's eyebrows arched high. "That must be difficult for him. Artie was a…" She wet her lips, cleared her throat, and didn't finish that sentence.
"Dick," Sam offered, and Lola let go one single bray of laughter before getting herself back under control.
"Yes," she said, voice restrained. "Only a girl from the wrong side of the tracks wouldn't dare say that in public. Even fifty years later, apparently."
Something tightened in Sam's chest, and without thinking about it, he stopped where they were—on the sidewalk, heading nowhere in particular—and tucked Lola into his arms. His own voice was strained as he whispered, "I don't think I understood until right now." Breathing hurt, like he had swallowed Lola's pain and had to ingest it before he could move on.
