"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…" the minister began the marriage ceremony at six o’clock on the first Friday evening in June.

I stood as Becky’s maid of honor. Steve’s ring, or rather the ring that Becky would soon give Steve, fit loosely on my thumb. It hadn't been all that long ago that I had thought that I would be the one to marry Steve. But, here Steve and Becky were tying the knot. I'd had almost six months to get used to the idea. Honestly, the news that Steve had proposed to Becky had been more of a relief than a grief. Steve and I had hung around together more out of habit than anything else.

Here I stood, the maid of honor and not the bride. It was the seventh time that I had stood right here as a maid of honor when one after another of my friends had gotten married. I was happy that things worked this way for Steve and Becky even though I wasn’t fond of the gossip that had been generated by this particular turn of events.

I had overheard a couple of the local biddies talking about what a shame it was that Emily Rogers lost that nice young man to her best friend. Then, the old gossips, sitting in my restaurant mind you, wondered how poor Emily was going to deal with her broken heart. And they wondered what Becky had been thinking to ask Emily to be her maid of honor, and what poor Emily was thinking to have accepted the honor.

Emily Rogers, that’s me, the last unmarried member of the circle of my high school friends. Funny, my single status hasn’t bothered me at all. I’d been too busy just trying to keep the restaurant running smoothly after Mom and Dad had died to have time to worry.

Here I was all of twenty-five, fairly attractive, and reasonably prosperous-- at least I was making a good living and providing a living for others with the restaurant. I was also alone. I decided right then and there while I was standing as Becky’s maid of honor that I would not remain alone for long. It was time to start looking for Mr. Right.

Umm…Right, I immediately dismissed cynically. Sure I would look. Sometime between when I got up at four in the morning to go into restaurant and when I came home after closing up food service at ten at night, I’d have time to look. Sure I would. Heavens! I didn’t even have time to think about getting haircuts, which is why I wore my hair long and blunt cut. How in the world would I ever have the time for dating?

The only reason I had time to be Becky’s maid of honor is that I closed the restaurant to the public after the lunch rush. My staff was there even as this ceremony was going on, putting the finishing touches on the wedding reception. I’d baked and decorated the wedding cake yesterday. All they had to do was to set up the tables, finish the decorations, and put the finishing touches on the sit down dinner for two hundred.

All? That was enough work for an army. I felt guilty that I wasn’t there doing my share of the work. But, I reminded myself that I had worked hard on the previous few days with preparations of all the things that could be done ahead of time and that before I had left the restaurant today, I had gone over the timing list with everyone. The meal would be perfect. I hoped. Because if it wasn’t then the biddies would have something else to gossip about.

I could hear it now, "Poor Becky, that rotten Emily spoiled her wedding reception in a fit of pique. But, then again, maybe she deserved it, stealing Steve from Emily like that."

I really couldn’t win.

Somehow, I managed to get through the wedding ceremony without making horrendous mistakes. Thankfully. I took Becky’s bouquet at the correct time, handed her the ring, helped her with the train of her dress, signed the marriage documents as her witness, and generally did all that was required of a maid of honor.

Right after the formal photographs, I ducked out, and went to the restaurant. Although the newly weds didn’t know it yet, the reception was my gift to Becky and Steve. Becky had planned it just the way she wanted it. But, I hadn’t let her pay anything in advance. And I wasn’t going to let her pay for it.

When I got back to the restaurant I was informed that one of the servers wouldn’t be coming in. Since she was in the hospital with a shattered leg from being hit by a car and would be undergoing surgery to repair it the next day, I couldn’t work up any anger at her. Anger at the idiot who had hit her, sure, that, I could manage. There being no help for it, I changed out of my wedding finery and put on my working clothes-- a white Victorian collared blouse, a black, mid calf length, skirt and apron, and sensible shoes. Pulling my deep auburn hair up into the understated elegance of the Victorian topknot, I looked like all of the other waitresses.

Then, as the guests began arriving, I made sure the cash bar was open and that the band had begun to play.

When Rusty, the regular bartender, took a break well into the evening, I covered for him.

"Bloody Mary and a scotch rocks," a male voice ordered.

I looked up to see Becky’s cousin, Hank Crowley, standing there. Until the rehearsal dinner, last evening, I hadn’t seen Hank in ten years. He had been a boy then, a boy heading off to boot camp. Now, he was definitely all man.

"Certainly," I said as I forced my eyes off of his face. There was no sense of mooning over him like a lovesick calf, I told myself. I poured the Bloody Mary from the five-gallon jug I kept refrigerated beneath the counter. I set the glass down in front of him. Then I poured the twelve year old Scotch over several cubes of ice. "Six dollars."

"How are you, Emily?" he asked in concern.

"Busy, as you can tell."

"Obviously. I’m surprised that Becky asked you to stand up with her, seeing that you and Steve were an item from high school until recently."

"That's all history. Steve and Becky are the future," I dismissed, although I wanted to cringe.

It was bad enough that the biddies were saying these things. Were other people believing that I was nursing a broken heart over Steve?

"What brings you home, Hank?" I asked, changing the subject.

"It’s not common knowledge, yet. But, I’m taking over Crowley Operating Engineers. Dad and Uncle Ray both want to retire while they are young enough to enjoy traveling."

"It’ll be good to have you home, again," I told him.

"Will it?"

"Of course it will. Come in one evening and have dinner as my treat."

Hank smiled at me. "Can I bring a date?"

"If you want," I told him quietly. Then with more boldness than I knew I possessed, I added, "Or you can come and have dinner with me."

"You are a dangerous woman, Emily Rogers."

"I’m just a woman."

"There’s never been anything ‘just’ about you, woman! I doubt that there will ever be," he said thoughtfully. "You’ve always been a shining beacon of light in a dark world."

"Now, I don’t remember you being so full of admiration before you left for boot camp," I dismissed with a laugh. "As I recall, you used to call the eight of us, ‘Becky’s brats’."

"Even then you stood out."

"Sure I did. You used to call me ‘that trouble making redhead.’"

"I’m surprised that you even remember me at all. You only had eyes for Steve back then."

"Everyone’s entitled to a mistake or two in their youth," I offered.

"Well, you’re the last single one from Becky’s brats."

"Some of us are just destined to be old maids."

"Really, is that how you see yourself, an old maid?"

I shrugged and replied, "It’s as good of a description as any."

Rusty came back from his break. Then, I excused myself and went to check on everything else.

I saw Hank take the drinks over to his parents, Becky’s aunt and uncle, Glena and Mark. Then I saw him walk over to the beverage table and pour himself a cup of coffee. Black. Two sugars. Personally, I thought that sounded good. I was beginning to really need a caffeine jolt, myself. It had been a long day, already.

After I had my coffee, I worked the room, making sure that everything was going smoothly. Becky and Steve were dancing. She had bundled her train into a bustle and had removed the netting from her veil, leaving only the pearled headdress. She had been such a beautiful bride. But, then again, Becky had always turned heads. Steve was looking at her as though she were the most precious person in the world to him. I was glad for them. It was good to see two people who loved each other that much together. Blinking back happy tears, I turned away and walked right into Hank’s arms.

He spoke to me with an edge of harshness in his low voice, "Emily, I won’t let you ruin Becky’s day just because you are still carrying a torch for Steve. So, blink back those tears and dance with me. People are looking. And they’ll soon be talking. You don’t want to give the biddies something else to hurt Becky with." Then he urged me onto the dance floor while the band was playing a slow tune.

Hank held me with a gentle firmness as we swayed to the music.

"I’m not carrying a torch for anyone," I protested softly as I enjoyed the sensation of being in his arms. It felt so right to be held by him. I wondered how it would feel if he kissed me. "Steve and Becky are two of my best friends. The tears were happy ones for them," I offered, as I tried to force those other thoughts from my mind.

"Pull the other leg, it’s shorter," he said in disbelief.

"Oh, just shut up and dance with me," I said.

He pulled me even closer to him as he muttered, "Yes, m’am."

The song ended, but Hank didn’t let me go. Instead, we danced through the next two songs without either of us saying a word. I don’t know what Hank was feeling, but I was definitely lost in the sensations of being in his arms.

But, that didn’t last long. "Em," one of my staff members said in a worried tone from just beside me, "could you come? I hate to interrupt. But, you need to deal with this before the sheriff needs to be involved. It’s Jimmy Greer and Pete Williams. They’re fighting again. I’ve called Jack at the Countywide Taxi. He’s sending two cars."

Hank followed me. On the way out the door, I grabbed my airhorn. Two of the wedding guests had taken a "conversation" outside and were attempting to settle their disagreement with their fists. It wasn’t the first time that I had broken up a drunken brawl at a wedding reception. It wasn’t even the first time that I had broken up a brawl between those two. I was grateful that Jimmy and Pete had possessed at least enough sense of decorum to take it outside. Or maybe they had just remembered the huge damages they paid the last time that they brawled in my place. Replacing the mirror over the bar, a table, a number of glasses, plates, and cups, as well as three maple chairs and the emergency room bills for a couple of my employees who had been hit with flying glass had not been cheap. But, they had paid every last cent.

I tried to get the attention of the brawlers. But, my voice couldn’t be heard over their shouting at one another. So, I held my arm over my head and blew a blast on the airhorn. That got their attention. "Okay, guys. I don’t care who started it. I just want you off my property as soon as your taxis arrive. Mary Louise and Carolyn are both having a good time at the party. It would be a shame to make them leave. I’ll tell your wives that you have each gone home. Leave your car keys. You’re both too soused to drive."

The pair of them looked at me sheepishly. "Ah, Em, we’re jus’ havin’ a friendly talk," Jimmy said in a voice so thick I could have walked across it.

"Your keys. Now. Both of you. Or perhaps you would rather I get the sheriff out here and let him haul you both in for Drunk and Disorderly or worse for DWI. He’s just inside enjoying the reception. It would be no trouble to get Doug out here. Neither of you could pass a field sobriety test, let alone the new breathalyzer that MADD just gave the county. And you know it. You also know that you can’t afford what a DWI or a D&D would do to your insurance rates. And I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if either one of you killed yourselves or someone else while driving home drunk. Now, would you want to do that to me?"

The two men grumbled, but dug through their pockets and produced their car keys. My employee had gone back into the restaurant.

The taxis pulled in. I saw each man safely off to home with the instruction to the drivers to bill me for the rides. I had a standing account with the taxi company.

I’d almost forgotten that Hank was standing there until he spoke. "And what would you have done if they had been nasty drunks?"

"Whatever I needed to," I told him. "I’ve handled nasty drunks before. I probably will again. It goes with the territory of running the place. But, these guys aren’t particularly nasty drunks. The only people they pick on are each other."

"Still the same Emily. Willing to tackle the world single-handedly and charge into situations alone that should take several people to handle," Hank said, but his tone wasn’t complementary.

"When you’re alone you don’t have a choice, Hank. You either handle situations or they handle you. I prefer to do the handling."

"You’re one skinny woman, not a whole battalion. Don’t you realize how easily you could be hurt, woman?" he demanded of me.

"I’m stronger than I look, Hank. And I know how to take care of myself."

"You look like a strong wind would sweep you away."

"I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can," he agreed in a condescending tone. "About as well as an hour old kitten."

This man was really making me angry. "Leave me alone, Hank."

He shook his head negatively. "I don’t think I can," he confessed as he took me by my hand and pulled me to him. "And I don’t think that you want me to. Do you?"

"No."

"You’ve always been painfully honest," he said, his voice hoarse as he held me tightly.

"Hank, this isn’t the place or the time."

"Where and when?"

"I have to get back inside," I told him, but I didn’t move out of his arms.

"Emily Jane," Hank ordered. "Kiss me."

"Why?"

"Is a kiss so hard to give? Are you still in love with Steve?"

"No." So, I kissed him for all the wrong reasons. I’d intended for the kiss to be a light, friendly, sort of kiss. But, Hank had other ideas. He kissed me as if he was starving and I was a six-course meal. Naturally, I returned his kiss equally. He touched something in me that I didn’t even know existed. I’d heard of becoming weak in the knees. But, it was the first time that any man had affected me that strongly with only a single kiss.

"Emily," he began.

I didn’t know what he was going to say. But, I was afraid to hear it. The man confused me. Part of me wanted to run as hard and fast as I could away from him. Another part of me wanted to throw myself into his arms and stay there forever. Running won.

"I have to get back in. Becky will be throwing the bouquet soon. She’s threatened to toss it at me."

"Do you want to be the next bride?" he asked.

"Why? Are you asking me to marry you?" I challenged.

"No."

"Then why would it matter to you what my wants are? Excuse me."

"Emily," he protested as I walked away. But, I just kept on walking.

"Boss, you don’t look so good," Tami Quinn said as I came back into the kitchen.

"I’m fine, Tami. How’s the party going?"

"The bride will be tossing the bouquet shortly. The groomsmen are making noises about the garter."

I forced myself to smile and returned to the party. The crowd had thinned out somewhat. I gave Jimmy and Pete’s keys to each man’s wife and filled each of them in on the situation. It wasn’t the first time that either of their husbands had been sent home in a cab. If either woman was embarrassed about it, I didn’t see any sign of it. But, both women left within twenty minutes of getting the keys.

Several guests had left, but the party was still in full swing. And it showed every sign of continuing for some time.

The only reason I stood with the single girls for the bouquet toss is because I knew that it meant a lot of Becky. She fulfilled her threat and did toss the flowers at me. And I caught them. Naturally, Hank caught the garter. The inevitable teasing followed. I shrugged it off. Hank left without saying goodbye.

The reception finally wound down well after midnight.

Becky came to me. "Send me a bill, Emily, for the party."

"No. It was my present to you."

"You can’t afford this."

"Yes, I can. Now, don’t argue with me. Your husband is waiting for you. Go to him. Be happy. I’ll see you when you get back from the Bahamas in a couple of weeks."

The cleaning crew went to work. I went into the basement to my office to crash for a few hours. I was too tired to drive home. It wasn’t the first time that I had sacked out on the sofa in my office after a long party. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the arm of the sofa.

At four, I got up and went home. A quick shower and change of clothes, then I was back at the restaurant by five. By then, of course, the morning crew had already opened. The breakfast crowd started arriving at five fifteen.

Hank walked in at six Saturday morning, right in the middle of the breakfast rush. He took a table by the front window. He wasn’t there more than long enough to order coffee before his dad and Becky’s dad came in and joined him.

I took over that table. The Crowley brothers always drank coffee- no cream but with lots of sugar. So, I brought over the carafe. "Morning gentlemen. What can I get for you?"

"A bill for the reception," Becky’s dad, Ray, said after he sipped the coffee. "I wish that Catherine could make coffee this good, Emily Jane."

"The beans are a special blend and I grind them fresh as they are used, Ray. It makes a difference," I told him. "As for the reception. Forget it. Last night was my pleasure. I wanted to do something nice for Becky and Steve."

Hank looked at me and smiled. "The lady is stubborn. I’d listen to her Uncle Ray."

"I’ll find a way, young woman, to pay you back," Ray Crowley said softly. "Even if it is only ten dollar tips whenever I come in for a cup of coffee for the rest of my life."

"Ray, if you come in for a cup of coffee and leave me a ten dollar tip, I’ll put it in an account for Becky and Steve’s children. I swear I will."

"You’ve always been difficult," Ray complained in a resigned tone that said he knew he was not going to win this one.

"And always will be. Now, what will you have for breakfast?"

I took their orders and left them to their coffee.

A few minutes later, I returned with their food. All of the men were reading copies of a contract. I assumed that it was the agreement to turn the business over to Hank’s control.

I came back a few minutes later with the coffee carafe. "Emily," Hank’s dad, Mark, said, "I’ll take another cup of coffee."

"Well, son," Mark said, "you’ve got yourself a business. Now all you need is a house and a wife."

"The house I’m working on. I talked Jake Edwards into selling me his lot out at the lake," Hank said as I poured coffee into Ray’s cup.

"Jake and Betty are retiring to Florida," Ray said.

I was pouring coffee into Hank’s cup when he said, "As for the wife part of that equation, well, that’s not likely to happen. Unless of course, I can talk Emily here into marrying me."

I warned him, "Anyone ever tell you, Hank, that it’s profoundly dangerous to tease a woman who could easily pour a half carafe of hot coffee over your head?"

"I’m not teasing, Em."

"Correct me if I’m wrong," I said in a low voice. "But, I believe that you are the one who told me-- just last night-- that you weren’t asking me to marry you."

"I wasn’t, then. However, a man’s entitled to change his mind," Hank offered.

"At least until he finds one that works," I countered. "I’m not sure that you have."

Ray and Mark chortled.

"That dinner invitation still open?" Hank asked, ignoring both my barb and the laughter of his relatives.

"Of course. What time would you like your reservation for? And will there just be us, or are you bringing a date?"

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. "There’s not a woman on earth who challenges me the way that you do."

"I never know if you are complimenting me or insulting me."

"Trust me, if they were insults there would be no doubt."

"How reassuring," I replied. "Dinner at eight. By then, most of the meal crowd has cleared out and the Saturday night party crowd has begun."

"I’ll be here. What’s on the menu?"

"For you? Ptomaine laced potato salad and spoiled meat."

Hank chuckled. "Then the appropriate wine would be a Merilot laced with cyanide."

"Or arsenic," I teased. "But you’ll have to drink it by yourself."

"I knew it, you just love me to death," Hank teased.

"I’ve always done extremely well in meat cutting competitions. I could just as easily love you to pieces, Hank. Tiny, unidentifiable, pieces."

"Dangerous woman," Hank replied with a small chuckle.

"Potentially," I teased. "So watch your step, Marine."

"Yes, m’am! You’re closed on Sunday."

"Yes."

"After Church will you go on a picnic with me out at the lake?"

"What makes you certain that I still go to Church?" I asked suspiciously.

He smiled at me. "You go to Church, every Sunday, according to my mother."

"I suppose that you want me to pack the picnic?"

"No. I’ll take care of that. Will you come on a picnic with me on Sunday, Emily?"

"I’ll think about it. Dinner tonight will be at eight. If you’re late, you won’t get dinner. I close the full kitchen tonight at eight fifteen. After that you’ll have to make do with short order," I said making my voice gruff, just before I walked away from them.

But, Hank didn’t make it to dinner. In fact, I didn’t even see him until the next morning at Church when he slid into the pew right next to me. He appeared both tired and worried. I’d heard the news about the fatal accident on one of the job sites. I took his hand and squeezed it. He looked at me and smiled in relief.

"I’m sorry for missing dinner last night," he said from his position just beside me after services were over.

"How are Marge Jenkins and the kids holding up?"

"They’re handling it. Losing Larry was a shock to everyone. I suspect that the insurance company will pay out a lot of money over this. But, then that’s why the corporation carries insurance. I’ll make sure that they’re taken care of."

I nodded. I knew that he would do the right thing for the widow and children of one of his employees. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was an honorable man.

"Are you ready to go on the picnic?"

"You planning sitting on the ground while wearing that suit?"

"No. I’ll go home, change, and pick up the basket. Then I’ll stop by and pick you up. Is that good with you?"

"It’ll be fine, Hank. I’ll see you in a little bit."

I changed from my dress into jeans and a t-shirt and I wore my swimsuit under everything. A summer picnic at the lake usually meant swimming as well. This was the first weekend after the end of the school year so there would likely be all kinds of kids out at the lake in boats and swimming.

Like dancing, I couldn’t remember the last time that I had been out on a picnic. High school, probably. But, I was bound and determined that I would enjoy the afternoon off. Normally, I spent Sunday afternoons in the kitchen trying new recipes, reworking the menus for the week’s specials, and catching up on my paperwork.

Maybe he was serious about marriage, maybe he wasn’t. I wasn’t going to worry about what I would say if he seriously asked me to marry him. Yet, in making that resolution, I had to admit to myself that I was worrying about it.

Marriage to Hank, now there was a concept to think about. What did I know about him anyway? He took family seriously. He had always been Becky’s defender. He had spent ten years in the Marine Corps. Rumor had it that he was still in the Reserves. He had a good singing voice and he knew many of the hymns we sang this morning by heart. But, that didn’t tell me who he was. I did know that he was capable of curling my toes. All that told me was that I was attracted to him. Attraction wasn’t enough to base a marriage on. But, it was a good start. Wasn’t it?

I was snapped out of my reflections by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Hank stood there at the door. He wore a tee shirt with the Marine emblem, a pair of well-worn jeans, and tennis shoes. I had to admit he looked incredibly, mouthwateringly, nice.

"See anything you like?" he asked as he walked into the house and closed the door behind him.

I felt myself blushing at his knowledge of my appraisal of him. I looked him in the eye and countered, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Unless you want to forget about the picnic, and spend the afternoon in bed together, I suggest that you don’t ask that."

"You’re making assumptions."

"No. I’m not. You want me as badly as I want you. When I kiss you, we both go up in flames."

"I don’t hop into bed with anyone."

"No, you have to date them for several years first."

"Was that another crack about Steve?"

"Forget it," he muttered.

"For your information, Hank, Steve and I never…" I knew that I was blushing boldly. My face felt incredibly hot. I turned away from Hank.

Gently, Hank turned me to face him. "Emily Jane, I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a jealous fool."

"Yes. You have. Now, cut it out!"

"Yes, m’am! You don’t give an inch do you?"

"Not usually, no," I admitted.

He looked at me for the longest time. It was clear that he was trying to find a way of saying something. Finally, he blurted out, "Emily, are you a virgin?"

I couldn’t help it. My face heated. The bluntness of the question embarrassed me. I was sure that I was as red as a vine ripened tomato. I’ve always blushed easily. That tendency goes along with the red hair and freckles. "That’s none of your business," I stammered, not knowing what else to say.

"And that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me. Of course, it’s my business, woman! Sooner or later, we’re going to be in bed together. I don’t want to hurt you. I happen to love you, Emily."

I know my jaw dropped. When I was able to speak, I told him, "That’s a fine way of telling me that, Hank!"

"Tact isn’t my strong point. Never has been."

"Yeah, I’ve kindda noticed that," I replied with a chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me?"

The chuckle became a full-bodied laugh. Soon, he was laughing with me. Then, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

I knew that he wasn’t lying. He did love me. More than that, I knew in that moment that what I felt for him wasn’t just desire. I couldn’t imagine a future without him sharing it with me.

"I hope you like children," I said. "I’ve always wanted a large family."

"I think that can be arranged," he replied just before he kissed me again. Somehow, we never made it out to the lake that afternoon.

At ten o’clock, on the first Saturday morning in July, Hank and I stood together and listened as the minister began, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the face of God and this company to join together Emily Jane and Henry Alvin in the holy state of matrimony."