The Wedding Machine Read Online Free Page A

combination of flowers for the church. She had compiled pages and pages of notes and photographs from the weddings she had coordinated, and she drew arrows that pointed out the small but meaningful details, such as the magnolia leaves in the fireplaces in the spring and summer or the corsages for the hostesses and the bridal party to wear at the Tea and See and the bridesmaids’ luncheon. She had a photo of a silver monogrammed tussy mussy with a lovely arrangement of ribbons from the bridal shower for the bride to hold at the church rehearsal, and she had samples of traditional handwritten envelopes that should be referred to when addressing the invitations.
    As Ray thumbed through the files, she was overwhelmed with Roberta’s trust in handing this honorable charge down to her.
    Roberta lifted her arm and made a fist so that the pearl bracelet on her wrist slid down to the edge of her lacy nightgown sleeve and continued, “You’ve already played a significant role in the rites of passage for the younger generation of Jasper ladies, from their christenings to their confirmations to their cotillions and their debutante seasons.”
    Ray nodded and blushed at Roberta’s recognition of her leadership on these occasions. “But the wedding is the final and most crucial part of their crossing the threshold into adult society, and it is up to you to carry on the tradition of honoring the young ladies of Jasper in the proper manner.”
    The old lady turned to look out at the hummingbird feeder that Ray had helped Kitty B. hang outside the nursing home window. “Don’t be tempted by this calligraphy fad. It’s simply not how it should be done.”
    â€œOh, I know.” Ray nodded emphatically. “I much prefer the hand-addressed invitations in traditional cursive.”
    â€œAnd I’ll roll over in my grave if you all ever type the invitations or use those awful labels that folks with computers are using these days!”
    â€œRoberta,” Ray said, “you know I would never let that happen.”
    â€œAnd return cards,” Roberta said. “ No return cards. One ought to know that one must respond on their personal stationery when receiving an invitation to a wedding.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree more.” Ray patted her mentor’s arm.
    â€œIf you cave in, Ray,” Roberta said, “if you go to return cards and provide these sorts of shortcuts, the other traditions that we’ve upheld for so long will eventually fade away.”
    â€œThat won’t happen on my watch,” Ray said as she took Roberta’s liver-spotted fist in her hand and rubbed her thumb gently across it. “It is an honor, Roberta, and you can trust me with this charge.”
    â€œI don’t doubt it, child,” Roberta said with that knowing glint in her weary eyes. “I know you understand the value of it.”

    â€œCareful!” Ray says as Willy and Justin lug their rifle cases through the dining room. The tip of Justin’s case grazes a Blue Canton vase and a hideous red crystal decanter from that Texas come-yuh, Vangie Dreggs, which must have cost a small fortune.
    â€œPlease watch yourselves, boys!” Ray clutches her cheeks while the glass display shelves shudder between their brass hinges. Three silver trays rattle back and forth, and a green Herund hare figurine crouched as if in a thicket falls over on its nose.
    â€œThink Jeannie lives in there, Aunt Ray?” Justin points to the decanter with a grin. Her fifteen-year-old nephew was described as s-l-o-w by the William Bull High guidance counselor before she sent him to the special needs school in Charleston. The look on his round face is so droll that she wants to kiss his forehead and rock him back and forth in her arms.
    â€œEven Jeannie wouldn’t be caught dead in that eyesore.” Ray gently pats his shoulders from behind and guides him toward the kitchen