Smoke Ch. 07

"Well, honey, are you ready? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, now?"

"No... I just can't believe how lucky I am." She thought back to those insane nights at the bar and blushed.

"Nonsense... it's Greg who's lucky, don't you ever forget that. Ah, you're blushing."

Cindy looked up at her friend who was adjusting the ivory-colored wedding dress. Tears started to flow, again.

"I told you, dear, stop crying. You're going to mess up your mascara. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes... it's just..."

"It's just what? Silly girl... let's get you married. C'mon." Martine extended her white-gloved hand to her young protégée and pulled her up. "That poor guy is waiting for you. I think he's been waiting for you his entire life."

Cindy wobbled for a moment on her high heels and then, hanging on Martine's arm, walked with her friend. Martine put her head out the door and whistled. Immediately, the sounds of Wagner's Bridal Chorus could be heard from the five-piece band in the corner of the chapel. The Italian accordionist had everyone's attention as they stood for her entrance.

Martine walked between the crowded pews in her light pastel orange dress... and then, Cindy walked toward Greg, stars in her eyes and hope in her heart.

"Do you, Cynthia Janice, take Gregory to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The moment of truth had arrived. Her hands were shaking... from fear, from relief, from... God knows what. She had gotten this far without him finding out about her past and prayed he never would.

"I do..."

"Do you, Gregory, take Cynthia Janice to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward..."

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

How she had longed to hear those words.

The hoots and catcalls, all from Raymond's waitresses, burst through the silence of the chapel. Cindy looked at Martine and the crowd. Silhouetted by the setting sun through the wood-framed glass, she threw her arms around Greg and kissed her husband.

As wonderful as the food was, Cindy didn't remember what she had eaten. Her heart was full as Greg held her tightly through their first waltz. Her head rested against his shoulder and even when the music stopped, he refused to let her go. Six times a waltz was played but after the third one, they just stood there, holding one another.

Finally, it was time to cut the cake. Martine, true to her word, had created a magnificent white-frosted with orange roses dark chocolate cake. That first cut was photographed in color at her insistence. "Black and white," she had said, "was for everyone else."

Angie was walking to her car when she was approached by four men. She immediately tensed... then, relaxed. She was tired of her double life. "Hello, Elliot. I was wondering when you were going to arrest me."

"Angie, please come with us, quietly. We've a proposition you might like."