Pamela Morsi by Here Comes the Bride Page B

attractive, so full of hope.
    Rome shot a surreptitious look in Gussie’s direction.
    She was totally caught up in the solemnity of the ceremony. The expression upon her face was sereneand … and beautiful. There was no other word to describe it.
    Was she daydreaming of her own wedding? Was she imagining Amos, tall and handsome, at her side? Rome would be in the crowd, naturally. As a partner in her company, he would be expected to attend. He would see her looking so serene, so beautiful, so totally and deservingly fulfilled. He would envy her happiness.
    When that last thought went through his mind, he was startled by it What a very strange idea. He shook off the foolishness of it.
    “Please join hands,” Reverend Holiday said to the young couple.
    With the help of the bridesmaid and the best man, the bride and groom both shed the glove upon their respective left hand.
    The vows were spoken, his with some stumbling and stuttering, hers with a breathless certainty that was almost inaudible.
    Reverend Holiday pronounced the couple man and wife. Theirs was a chaste, sweet kiss. A symbol of their love, not a demonstration of it. The room was filled with delighted smiles. There was some circumspect, muted applause. It was over.
    But not for Rome and Gussie. The social triumph of the Timmons family was to be their coming-out party.
    They rose to their feet. They received several nods of acknowledgment. The Penderghasts, just in front of them, actually spoke to Rome.
    “Good to see you, Akers.”
    The fact that the man saw him regularly around town and once a week when he delivered ice to the house was notwithstanding.
    They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries as if they had not conversed only hours previously.
    Mrs. Penderghast was not as easily won over. She’d seen the couple holding hands and she was not likely to forget the shocking sight any time soon.
    She did not seem, however, quite so reticent with Gussie. The old woman commented upon the flowers on the dais. Apparently the pretty arrangement was Gussie’s.
    With great formality, Rome took the arm of the woman at his side. He was a little edgy again and made a special effort to be as well mannered and refined as any man present.
    They made their way up the aisle toward the doorway. There was a crush of people and a lot of curious looks in their direction. Rome had known that they would be the subject of great speculation. He had not realized how conspicuous he was going to feel.
    Madge Simpson sidled up next to them, her husband in tow.
    “I swear, Gussie, that is exactly your color,” she said. “It does wonders for your complexion.”
    The words were spoken to Miss Gussie, but the woman’s attention was focused completely upon Rome. It was a test, he realized.
    “You are right, of course,” he told the woman. “A lovely woman always, Miss Gussie looks especially so tonight.” He leaned closer to Mrs. Simpson, as if to share a secret confidence. “But, ma’am, I would warn you of the dangers of swearing in church.”
    The woman giggled as delightedly as a girl.
    She took his other arm and, with some difficulty, they walked four abreast through the vestibule. Madge pointed out some pale, hothouse roses on a table. He remembered the comment from Mrs. Penderghast about the flowers that Gussie had brought.
    “I know nothing of flowers, Mrs. Simpson,” headmitted with exaggerated gravity. “These are very fine, I’m sure. But they don’t begin to compare with the magnificent, brightly colored ones I saw in the church.”
    He could see immediately that he’d said the right thing. Madge Simpson was won over. No matter what others might say, she was on his side.
    The wedding repast was to be held in the supper room of the Granger Hotel, across the street from the church. After the meal, there was to be dancing. It was, by Cottonwood standards, a grand social event. A banquet table was laid out with a huge side of roasted beef and dishes featuring every