Then Princess FiFi, positioned at Bobbie-Jean's feet in a flower crown that matched the bridal bouquet, made a decision about the cake table that was swift, singular, and catastrophic in the specific way only possible when a hundred-and-fifty-pound Great Dane has a clear sight line and no one moving to stop her. The sequence was: a lunge, a tablecloth, the second tier of the wedding cake, and a sound that could only be described as a community event.
FiFi sat in the resulting situation and surveyed the room with the expression of a dog who had accomplished what she'd set out to do and had no further remarks.
The room went silent.
From somewhere near the dance floor, without preamble: "She ain't the only one, bless her heart." MeeMaw. Full carrying volume. Not addressing anyone in particular.
The room decided this was exactly correct and went up.
I was watching Jules when it landed.
She laughed. Not the managed version—not the warm client-voice she'd been running all weekend—but the one that arrived before she'd gotten a hand on it. Her face went completely open, the way it had over the Persian-cat story at the rehearsal dinner, and the dimples came in without asking, and she was laughing in front of a tent full of people she'd just met without doing a single thing about it.
I put my hand flat on the table.
I was done waiting. I wanted her, right now, and I'd been patient long enough.
She caught me looking.
THE PARENT DANCES WENTfirst. Big Jim and Bobbie-Jean, Houston and Stoney. Then the floor opened and the band found its feet and the tent filled in from the edges.
MeeMaw came past me. Didn't stop. Didn't look at me. Said it to the middle distance at a volume calculated for one recipient.
"Don't make her wait, Dutch. Your face has been telling on you since Friday afternoon and she's the only one who hasn't read it yet."
Then she was past me, already halfway across the floor, making her way toward someone she had actual business with.
Of course. She'd been watching this property and the people on it for fifty years, and she'd put that shirt on Jules that morning with the specific intentions of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and had decided to do it. The only surprise was that she'd waited this long to say anything.
I set my glass on the nearest table and went to find Jules.
SHE WAS AT THE EDGEof the floor with the camera bag at her feet and the camera itself finally, finally down. Watching the dancers. Her hand rested at the hollow of her throat, just there, fingers light, and she hadn't noticed it was.
I crossed the floor.
I didn't say anything. I stopped in front of her and held my hand out, and I waited.
She studied my hand. Then she met my eyes. Color had settled high on her cheekbones and she wasn't fighting it, and she made a small motion toward the camera bag that wasn't quite picking it up, and then she let her hand fall.
She took my hand.
The song had room in it and I used some of it. We were close enough that I could feel the embroidery of MeeMaw's rhinestone shirt against my jacket lapel, her hand settled on my shoulder, and I had her other hand in mine. We found the rhythm. She was a good dancer, which surprised me and also didn't.
"Twenty-two rhinestone buttons," I said, low, near her ear. "I counted."
She went still against me. Then: "Twenty-four."
"I'll get an accurate count later."
She laughed. Then she stopped laughing, which was where I needed the moment to go, and I moved her closer and we finished the song.
THE FLOOR THINNED AROUNDmidnight. The band had eased the room down without being asked, playing it slow, and the string lights had dimmed to their minimum, just enough gold to see by.
I walked Jules toward the far end of the tent where the canvas was dark and the last guests were drifting toward thehouse. She had her camera bag on her shoulder and she knew where we were going. I hadn't said anything. She knew anyway.
I stopped at the edge of the dark. She turned, and I put my hand under her jaw, not gripping, just holding, and she went still the way she did when something had genuinely moved her. Not performing. Just stopped.
I kissed her.
