Wedding Chimes, Assorted Crimes
Page 31
Rose Postwaite sat near the aisle, her face wreathed in smiles. Anna Marie stood beside Max’s mother, Angelica, in the front row. Both women dabbed at their eyes. Anna Marie blew Keely a kiss.
Keely’s bouquet, courtesy of Jessica’s Garden, felt heavy in her hands. Ida had dictated the selection: alstroemeria for devotion, roses to supply love and joy, and Queen Anne’s Lace symbolizing trust and healing. Inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, Keely locked the sensory memory in her heart to treasure.
In the hollow of her throat nestled Max’s primary gift to the bride, a golden love-knot on a chain. Keely touched the token with a gloved finger and beamed at the man who stood waiting at the altar.
Her wedding had its own special theme to fit her profession, “Exposed to Love.” The bridesmaids and groomsmen were dazzling in black and white and each guest had been handed a disposable camera to capture a multitude of images for an unforgettable wedding album. With Max’s support, Keely had decided to keep Key Shot Studio open, but in the future she would concentrate on portraits, her first love. No, second love behind Max.
The ceremony progressed as rehearsed until the exchange of vows.
“Maxwell Alan Summers, do you promise to love, honor, and cherish this woman as long as you both shall live?”
Max gave Keely a soulful look and—the rascal!—winked. “I do. Trust me.”
Keely forgot the crowd of hushed onlookers, the pastor’s hovering, white robed presence and the solemnity of the occasion. With a smile of faith, she whispered to Max, “That’s a promise, darling, I know we’ll both keep.”
More from Christine Arness
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