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Authors: Yvonne Lehman
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over, and gave Lydia's a little squeeze.
"Since Lydia and Caroline are holding hands under the table, maybe matron of honor has been decided." At Molly's words, they returned their hands to their laps and leaned away from each other, again bringing frivolity to the group.
Oh, planning was fun, even if something happened to prevent the wedding from materializing.
"I'd be delighted," Caroline said. "If that's what the handholding meant."
"It is." Lydia looked around at the happy faces of the women. "John will have to decide on best man." She looked at Molly. "Won't he?"
Molly lifted her shoulders. "Yeah. Then we'll see if it's the right one."
They could hardly drink their tea or keep a straight face when the waiter came to attend any further refreshment inclinations.
Lydia recalled that Craven had already refused to be best man, only an objecting better man. John's new friend S. J. would be perfect. Especially since his children would be taking part.
"I could wear my pink and rose gown," Caroline said. "If those colors suit you."
"That sounds grand. And something old should be no problem. A corset. A comb," Lydia mused.
"The engagement ring is new," Caroline said, "and the wedding band is borrowed."
"I have a blue garter," Madeleine offered.
"I'll give the gold coin," Molly said. "Heaven knows I have more than I know what to do with."
"Might I say something?"
The talking ceased, and they became as tranquil as the ocean. Although Harriett had joined in the frivolity, she hadn't said much. Judging by the intense look on her face, Lydia had a feeling Harriett might throw a splash of reality on their sea of plans. A few cups made a tinkling sound, returning to their saucers as if teatime had ended.
" Ma chère," Harriett said, "do you have a wedding gown?"
"No, I—"
She stood. "Never mind. If we're to dress for dinner, we'd best adjourn this little tête-à-tête and continue the discussion later."
Not even Molly made a comment, but studied Harriett with curiosity. Others looked as uncertain as Lydia felt about Harriett's abrupt dismissal when she had not really been much of a participant.
Nevertheless, they deferred to her and adjourned the . . . tête-à-tête.
13
Saturday dinner in the À la Carte Restaurant, April 13, 1912
T he air on the exposed promenade deck felt decidedly colder, and Lydia shivered beneath her fur. However, her heart was warmed by excitement, anticipation, and the women being so eager to make this the grandest event ever. It had clearly sparked the romantic imagination of the women.
She finally had a moment to let John know about the plans made during teatime. He nodded. "I believe I've been congratulated by half the people on the ship. And I suppose this means I need to find a best man."
"At least we know that man isn't Craven," she said as they descended the staircase.
"Don't be so hard on him, Lydia. I can't blame him for wanting you."
She looked into his beloved face. "John, he cares for me. He thinks the world of me. He finds me lovely. He enjoys my company. He—"
"I get the point."
"Get this one too," she said. "I admire and respect him. And find him attractive. But," she said, dispelling the mock grimace on his face. "I love you."
"You know I love you."
She nodded, feeling a tightness in her throat and a warmth in her heart. "I know."
"We should go in," John said. They entered the reception room, where Caroline and William greeted them.
"Did you find out about printing invitations?" Caroline asked.
"It turns out," John said, "there's a printing room here on the ship with a printer and an assistant. As soon as we get official approval, the presses can print invitations as easily as they print daily embossed menus for the restaurants."
The bugle sounded, and they were escorted into the À la Carte. While they were being seated at their assigned places, Lydia realized anew that this room was even more elegant than the dining saloon. The crystal
"Since Lydia and Caroline are holding hands under the table, maybe matron of honor has been decided." At Molly's words, they returned their hands to their laps and leaned away from each other, again bringing frivolity to the group.
Oh, planning was fun, even if something happened to prevent the wedding from materializing.
"I'd be delighted," Caroline said. "If that's what the handholding meant."
"It is." Lydia looked around at the happy faces of the women. "John will have to decide on best man." She looked at Molly. "Won't he?"
Molly lifted her shoulders. "Yeah. Then we'll see if it's the right one."
They could hardly drink their tea or keep a straight face when the waiter came to attend any further refreshment inclinations.
Lydia recalled that Craven had already refused to be best man, only an objecting better man. John's new friend S. J. would be perfect. Especially since his children would be taking part.
"I could wear my pink and rose gown," Caroline said. "If those colors suit you."
"That sounds grand. And something old should be no problem. A corset. A comb," Lydia mused.
"The engagement ring is new," Caroline said, "and the wedding band is borrowed."
"I have a blue garter," Madeleine offered.
"I'll give the gold coin," Molly said. "Heaven knows I have more than I know what to do with."
"Might I say something?"
The talking ceased, and they became as tranquil as the ocean. Although Harriett had joined in the frivolity, she hadn't said much. Judging by the intense look on her face, Lydia had a feeling Harriett might throw a splash of reality on their sea of plans. A few cups made a tinkling sound, returning to their saucers as if teatime had ended.
" Ma chère," Harriett said, "do you have a wedding gown?"
"No, I—"
She stood. "Never mind. If we're to dress for dinner, we'd best adjourn this little tête-à-tête and continue the discussion later."
Not even Molly made a comment, but studied Harriett with curiosity. Others looked as uncertain as Lydia felt about Harriett's abrupt dismissal when she had not really been much of a participant.
Nevertheless, they deferred to her and adjourned the . . . tête-à-tête.
13
Saturday dinner in the À la Carte Restaurant, April 13, 1912
T he air on the exposed promenade deck felt decidedly colder, and Lydia shivered beneath her fur. However, her heart was warmed by excitement, anticipation, and the women being so eager to make this the grandest event ever. It had clearly sparked the romantic imagination of the women.
She finally had a moment to let John know about the plans made during teatime. He nodded. "I believe I've been congratulated by half the people on the ship. And I suppose this means I need to find a best man."
"At least we know that man isn't Craven," she said as they descended the staircase.
"Don't be so hard on him, Lydia. I can't blame him for wanting you."
She looked into his beloved face. "John, he cares for me. He thinks the world of me. He finds me lovely. He enjoys my company. He—"
"I get the point."
"Get this one too," she said. "I admire and respect him. And find him attractive. But," she said, dispelling the mock grimace on his face. "I love you."
"You know I love you."
She nodded, feeling a tightness in her throat and a warmth in her heart. "I know."
"We should go in," John said. They entered the reception room, where Caroline and William greeted them.
"Did you find out about printing invitations?" Caroline asked.
"It turns out," John said, "there's a printing room here on the ship with a printer and an assistant. As soon as we get official approval, the presses can print invitations as easily as they print daily embossed menus for the restaurants."
The bugle sounded, and they were escorted into the À la Carte. While they were being seated at their assigned places, Lydia realized anew that this room was even more elegant than the dining saloon. The crystal
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