Christmas Wedding At The Gingerbread Café. Rebecca Raisin

pushed him into agreeing to keep the guest list small? As Olivia said, she’s known Damon his whole life and I’ve only known him a year. Already tonight I’ve seen a different Damon, one who seems more energetic and animated, quick to laugh, and more…himself.

      CeeCee says, “I don’t rightly know, Lil. What I think is it’s late, you’ve had a long day, and all this worry ain’t gonna change a thing. Sleep on it, OK?”

      The night has gone eerily quiet, with only the small crackle of the dying fire to keep me company. My earlier pre-wedding flush has faded away, replaced by a nervousness I can’t quite shake. “You’re right, CeeCee. A good night’s sleep will help.”

      “Go home. Don’t give it another thought.”

      “OK.”

      “Night, sugar plum.”

      “Night.” I hang up, feeling slightly mollified. CeeCee’s got a way of putting things in perspective, and I think maybe I’ve read it all wrong. I gather up the mop that leans against the table and swish it in the sudsy water, before finishing off the floors.

      After I’ve packed the cleaning equipment away, I head on out back to my office. I open the drawer and pull out a jewelry box. Inside are wedding gifts I had made especially for our moms and my bridal party. Olivia’s gift sits on top, a silver locket inscribed, ‘Thank you for raising my Mr. Right.’ With a sigh, I wonder if it’s something she’ll like. Somehow after seeing the way she dresses, I can’t imagine her wearing a silver locket, with a gushy sentimental inscription. Instead, I look for Charlie’s gift, a necklace with a pearl pendant, and a card that reads: Charlie, you may know the old saying a bride needs something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, for good luck on her wedding day. But all I need is you. Will you be my flower girl?