The Wedding by Elizabeth Bevarly

Author:Elizabeth Bevarly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, comedy, romantic comedy, womens fiction, washington, wedding, contemporary romance, beach read
Publisher: Elizabeth Bevarly

CHAPTER 21

Anyone who has ever been married can tell you that the journey upon which you and your groom are about to embark is not only the ultimate act of commitment, but also the ultimate act of faith. To place oneself in the care and keeping of another is to risk one’s very soul. Yet it is this supreme trust that will keep you and your groom so very much in love. Never take such trust for granted. And never consider it anything less than omnipotent.

—Alison Brigham

“So then the Martian says to the bartender, ‘Oh, yeah? Well, neither was the mailman, but he was delicious!’”

“Desiree chuckled at the punch line of Laszlo’s standard party joke, even though she’d heard it a hundred times over the last forty-odd years. It was a timeless story that still brought laughs, and tonight was no exception. Even Lionel managed to crack a smile. Only Francesca seemed not to have enjoyed it, Desiree noted as she watched the woman sip a martini on the other side of the room. But then that was no big surprise, was it?

The Rowans’ friends seemed like nice enough people, Desiree thought as she studied the guests once again. One or two of them carried that same bad-smell expression that Francesca had raised to an art form, but for the most part they were okay. That Celia Davenport was a real talker, though. Country club this and country club that. Desiree had hardly been able to shut her up long enough to get a word in edgewise.

“My goodness, Desiree,” Celia began again when the laughter had died down. “That husband of yours is certainly amusing. And what a charmer.”

Desiree smiled. “Yeah. Laszlo’s one of a kind, all right. He’s a member of that dying breed—decent guys. You don’t find too many of them anymore.”

Celia nodded. “So true, I’m afraid. So true.”

“Excuse me, for a minute, Celia, will you?” Desiree asked suddenly. “I just now remembered something I need to ask Francesca about the wedding.”

“Certainly. I’ll stay here and see if I can’t coax your husband into telling us another one of his delightful stories.”

“He’s got a million of ’em. Don’t get him started or we’ll be here all night. I’ve always said my husband could have been a real comedian if he wanted. He’s always been ten times funnier than Bill Cosby or Jonathan Winters or any of those guys.”

As she crossed the room to where Francesca had tucked herself modestly into the corner of a love seat, Desiree heard Laszlo begin another joke, the one about the three-legged dog who came to town looking for the man who shot his Paw.

“Great party, Francesca,” she said as she sat down onto the tiny sofa beside her hostess.

Francesca looked up quickly, feeling a little fuzzy-headed and surprised to discover she was no longer alone. “Oh. Thank you, Desiree. Yes, it is going nicely, isn’t it?”

“Everyone seems to be having a good time. It was nice of you and Lionel to do this for the kids.

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