Maureen blotted her cheeks with a handkerchief as she carried the white rose to the front of the chapel. Just over five months since her wedding, and now, here she was again.
She looked up and thanked the young man who’d escorted her up the aisle, then took her seat on the groom’s side of the room. Kirby winked at her from his place on the platform. Soon Jackie and Don joined her, and Jackie took hold of her hand. Maureen handed her the handkerchief to dry her tears, too.
Their boy was getting married.
The chapel turned out to be the perfect size for the Christmastime wedding. Flannery looked stunning in her simple white gown, and Jamie, more handsome than ever in his suit. Their ceremony lasted a little longer than hers and Kirby’s had—but they had a preacher, not a retired judge. And Kirby had a pretty good wind in the pulpit. Fortunately, Flannery had talked him out of “sermonizing” on the history of marriage. And by asking her grandfather to officiate the wedding, she’d solved the problem of which side to seat him and Maureen on—or whether to separate them and have one on each side.
Soon, Kirby pronounced them husband and wife, and Jamie kissed Flannery. And kept kissing her to the point where the crowd began to titter and giggle. And then he kissed her again, just for good measure, apparently. Everyone cheered and clapped when Jamie turned and pumped his arms up in the air in a victory gesture. Flannery took him by the hand and made him leave the chapel.
All the pictures had been taken beforehand, so everyone headed across the cold courtyard to the community center for the reception—a simple affair that seemed more like a Christmas party, especially with people taking turns on the stage at the far end singing all manner of holiday songs with accompaniment from musicians from Caylor’s school.
Maureen had barely had time to congratulate her grandson and granddaughter-in-law—twice over—when she found herself surrounded by her four dearest friends in the world.
“It’s hard to believe that it’s only been sixteen months since we stood right here”—Trina Breitinger paused—“well, over there in the worship center, and bemoaned the fact that none of us had married grandchildren.”
“And look at us now.” Perty Bradley beamed up toward the stage, where Caylor had dragged Dylan, Zarah, and Bobby up to sing “White Christmas” with her.
“All of us with at least one grandchild married—and we got Maureen married off in the process, too.” Lindy Patterson gave Maureen a one-armed squeeze.
“I would say, all in all, we make pretty successful matchmakers.” Sassy Evans squinted toward the stage and smiled and waved at her granddaughter and grandson-in-law.
“I agree.” Maureen raised her glass of cranberry-flavored punch. “To the matchmakers. May we make many more successful matches for our—well, your—grandchildren.”
“Hear, hear!” cheered the others.
After taking a sip, Trina set her glass down and took Lindy’s hand. Lindy did the same, taking Maureen’s hand; and soon all five had joined hands in a circle. Trina bowed her head. “Lord, I know we probably didn’t set about this with the best of intentions, but You blessed our meddling, matchmaking efforts anyway. Now, we ask that You bless our grandchildren with happy, healthy lives and homes, and guide them in Your pathways. Amen.”
“Amen,” the other four murmured.
Sassy, however, didn’t lift her head or let go of Perty’s or Trina’s hands. “And Lord, if it’s Your will, bless us with lots of great-grandbabies soon. Amen.”
They all laughed. “Amen!”