CHAPTER

Thirty-six

That Friday was gray and muggy with a threatening sky.

The plan was to get married at noon and then go out and have a wonderful lunch before Tony headed back to the office to finish up some work.

Mildred, on the other hand, had the day off, and she would head back home and prepare the apartment for a wonderful romantic evening.

They would fly out first thing Saturday morning to spend ten blissful days in Bora Bora. After that they would return to work for at least another three months before handing in their resignations and disappearing completely.

Mildred had made up beautiful wedding invitations on the computer and handed one to Geneva as well as to her boss, Mr. Henderson.

Mildred arrived in full wedding dress, via gypsy cab.

When she waltzed into the main hall of the courthouse, heads turned and people snickered, but all Mildred heard were the harps inside her head.

“Y-you look lovely,” Geneva heard herself lie. Mildred looked like a float from the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“Who did your makeup?”

Geneva had to ask because Mildred had on the thickest press-on eyelashes she'd ever seen. And to add insult to injury, she'd applied a heavy dose of rose-colored blush to her cheeks. She looked like a clown.

Her lipstick was the best thing going—a soft, glittery pink.

“I did,” Mildred announced proudly as she embraced Geneva.

Clutching her six-foot-long train, she wobbled over to Mr. Henderson, who was so rigid with shock, he could barely raise his arms.

“You look . . . um . . . glorious,” Mr. Henderson said.

“Thank you!”

Couple after happy couple walked into the matrimony room and walked out husband and wife. It was a quarter past twelve and Tony still hadn't arrived.

“It shouldn't be much longer,” Mildred stalled. “I think he said he was driving in today.”

Geneva and Mr. Henderson nodded.

By twelve-thirty, Mildred had dialed Tony's cell phone three times, but each time it had gone straight to voice mail.

Her spirits still high, she made more excuses.

By quarter of one Mr. Henderson announced that he had an important meeting to attend at one o'clock and couldn't wait anymore.

“Mildred, dear, I'm so sorry, but I have to go,” he said, checking his watch. “I wish I could be here to witness this wonderful occasion, but . . .”

Mildred waved him off. “Oh, Mr. Henderson, don't be sorry. It means so much to me that you waited this long. But I'm sure he'll be here soon.”

Mildred was still smiling.

“I'm sure,” Mr. Henderson said as he handed her an envelope and then patted her hand.

He shot Geneva an unsure look before he walked away.

Geneva looked at her watch. It was one o'clock and Mildred was beginning to look worried. Geneva herself had had a sinking feeling as soon as she walked into the building. Now it was more than obvious to her that Tony was standing Mildred up.

Mildred jabbed the redial button on her phone, listened as it went to voice mail, pressed End Call, and then jabbed the redial button again.

This psychotic repetitive behavior went on for fifteen minutes straight before Geneva built up the courage to approach her friend.

“Mildred—” she started, resting a comforting hand on Mildred's shoulder.

Mildred shrugged her hand off. “He's just late, stuck somewhere, that's all,” she mumbled, and then turned on Geneva and screamed, “He'll be here!”

Geneva jumped back. Mildred was having a nervous breakdown right before her eyes.

At two o'clock, Mildred came completely undone, sliding down the marble wall and settling into a weeping mess on the floor.

Geneva went to her, stooped down beside her, took her hand in hers, and said, “C'mon, girl. Let's go.”

Mildred snatched her hand back. “You go on, Geneva. He'll be here, I know he will.”

Geneva felt horrible leaving her there, but she had a job that she liked and needed, and she'd already been gone for two hours.

“I'll call you later,” Geneva said, after giving Mildred a hug and stepping into the waiting elevator.

By four o'clock the sky had opened up, soaking Mildred to the bone as she walked slowly toward the subway.