At least she looked awful in her dress too. I couldn’t see Bethany, Janie’s college friend, from where I was standing, but I was sure she was crying appropriately as well. Not only did she have the teary smile down, but she somehow managed to look fabulous in bright orange.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Janie’s cousin Libby standing next to me, dabbing at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. Martha Stewart Weddings had a spread of fall bouquets, and Janie’s mom made a ton of trips out to Connecticut to exactly the same florist to have exactly the same bouquets made for Janie’s wedding.

“But they don’t look like dead flowers, Van. “Brown is the color of dead flowers, Janie.” That, and I probably wouldn’t have gone with brown roses. And instead of standing across from the groom, beaming, I was standing across from his first cousin, Norman, smiling a hollow smile like a jack-o’-lantern. The satin bridesmaids’ gowns that were ordered in deep, rich cinnamon showed up two days before the wedding and were bright Halloween pumpkin. The wedding was perfect, except for two things. The pews were trimmed with sprigs of bittersweet and branches of Chinese lantern plant tied with brown and orange gauzy ribbons. White candles in glass sconces lined the gray stone walls, and a gigantic candelabra cast a golden glow on the altar. The wedding was more than I ever could have wished for.

Stay novel allie larkin