Another Piece of My Heart by Jane Green

lavender, dotted down the center.
    It is a hive of activity, friends and family members coming over to say hello, all helping with the cooking, the decorating, the music. Kids run through the busy adults, weaving in and out between their legs, two teenage girls on babysitting duty, trying to herd the kids down by the creek, where large flat stones let the water rest, forming a natural swimming hole.
    There are a series of buildings, barns, outbuildings, one of which contains a basic kitchen. An old commercial stove, and a barbecue made from oil drums cut in half, on which marinaded chicken drumsticks are spitting. Dusty strings of colored fairy lights are strung between old Victorian gaslights, wrapped around beams, looped around vintage cowboy posters.
    Someone is pouring homemade lemonade into a giant glass dispenser, another is pounding mint with a pestle in a large mortar, adding sugar for the mojitos that will be poured into jelly jars and handed around to the guests.
    “This is amazing!” Ethan turns to Isabel in amazement. “How did you find this place?”
    “How do you think?” She grins.
    “Drew?” Ethan ventures.
    “Of course.” Isabel shrugs.
    “He is amazing!” Ethan shakes his head with a laugh as Andi gives him an I-told-you-so look. “Is there anything he doesn’t know?”
    “Lots. But when it comes to hospitality and cooking, and especially finding the perfect spot for your wife’s oldest friend to get married, he’s the best,” Isabel says.
    “He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Andi says. “I’ve been trying to get details for weeks. What are you wearing?”
    Isabel leans in. “Want to come and see?”
    “Am I allowed?” Andi can’t hide her surprise.
    “No, but I love my dress so much, I can’t stand it. I have to show my favorite girlfriends. Come.” And, grabbing Andi by the hand, she pulls her toward one of the outbuildings. “Sorry, Ethan!” she yells over her shoulder. “I’ll only steal her for a little while.”
    *   *   *
    “Oh, Isabel.” Andi gently runs the ivory chiffon through her fingers. “It’s beautiful.”
    “I know!” Isabel says. “I know it’s a bit much, and I never thought I wanted a proper wedding dress, but I saw this and just completely fell in love. I can’t wait for Greg to see it. I know he thinks I’m wearing some hippie dress, which I was planning to, of course. He’ll be amazed.”
    “You’re going to be so gorgeous.” Andi reaches over and tucks one of the curls back behind Isabel’s ear. “What are you doing with your hair?”
    “Totally messy, but up. Loose curls.” She gathers her hair up with her hands. “Basically, just this, held with a big clip. But,” she says shyly, “I have fresh flowers I want to wind in. I was going to ask a couple of friends to do it for me. Would you be one of them?”
    “Help you get ready for your wedding?” Andi feels a lump in her throat as Isabel nods. “Are you kidding? It would be an honor!” And Isabel throws her arms around her as the two women envelop each other in a tight embrace.
    *   *   *
    It is so different from Andi’s wedding, and hers was so different from the weddings she attended back in New York back in her twenties and early thirties.
    Andi didn’t want what so many of her friends had had, the perfect fairytale wedding, the opportunity to be princess for a day. They took over the Maidstone Arms in East Hampton for beach weddings, the New York Botanical Garden or the Knickerbocker Club in New York for formal, elegant affairs.
    Two hundred guests were always invited; three hundred; four. The wedding was organized by their mothers, with Vera Wang dresses, and catering by Abigail Kirsch. It was never about the couple, Andi thought, even then, but about presenting an image to the world, an image of who they were going to be, this new couple, forging a new and fabulous life together.
    It is one of the blessings of not getting married until she was almost forty,