“And now you are?” Mrs. G began to dry the greens Laurel washed.

“I guess it’s the sort of thing that keeps passing through my mind. Maybe it’s a biological clock thing.”

“Maybe it’s a being in love thing.”

“Maybe. But two people have to be in love and thinking about someday. I saw this couple today who’d gotten married here last spring.” She glanced out the window as she worked, toward the green and the blue of summer. “They were in Del’s office to do some sort of legal stuff for their first house. Dara was handling it, and the baby came up. The bride-well, wife-got sort of dreamy-eyed over the thought of a baby, and he said: House first, baby later ... or something like that. Which is absolutely sensible.”

“Babies don’t always come when it’s sensible.”

“Yeah, tomorrow’s bride found that one out. But I just mean it makes sense to plan the steps, to take them in logical order. To be patient.”

“Running low on it.” Mrs. Grady gave Laurel’s back a quick rub.

“Sometimes, a little anyway. I don’t need all the fuss, all the details, all the trimmings. All, essentially, that we do here. Emma does, and Parker will, and God knows Mac’s gotten into it.”

“She has, and I think it’s been a surprise to her.”

“But I don’t. I don’t need a ring or a license, or a spectacular white dress. It’s not marriage so much, or at all really, that matters. It’s the promise. It’s the knowing someone wants me to be part of his life. Someone loves me, that I’m the one for him. That’s not just enough, it’s everything.”

“Who do you think Del would want to be with tonight other than you?”

Laurel shrugged. “I don’t know. I do know he’ll be happy to be with me. That may not be everything, but it’s enough.” The timer she’d set went off. “Crap. I’ve got to get back to my kitchen. Don’t cook anything.”

“I’ll act as sous chef and no more. I’ll just finish washing these, and get them dried and put away for you. That wouldn’t be cheating.”

“You’re right. Thanks.”

As Laurel raced away to the next task, Mrs. Grady wondered why the girl didn’t consider maybe Del wanted some of that everything, too.

“Love,” she murmured as she washed. “Nobody inside it knows how the hell to handle it.”

NATURALLY, THE ONE TIME, THE ONE TIME, LAUREL NEEDED A REHEARSAL to run smoothly, move quickly, it turned into a circus show-casing a weepy bride—hormones, probably—a MOG woozy in the heat, and a groomsman woozy from a little too much prerehearsal celebration. Added to it were the flower girl and ring bearer—brother and sister—who picked the event to display their sibling loathing.