Free The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks Page A

shoulder, eyes gleaming. “But oh, just wait. You’re not going to believe it.” The kitchen counters were crowded with preparations for the main course: sliced veal, assorted vegetables, a cutting board and knife. I slipped on an oven mitt to remove the appetizers and set the baking sheet on the stovetop.   “Here,” I said.
    She looked at me in surprise. “They’re already done?”
    “Lucky timing.” I shrugged.
    Jane reached for a mushroom and took a bite.
    “So this morning, I picked her up . . . Wow, this is really good.” She paused, suddenly examining the mushroom. She took another bite and let it roll around in her mouth before going on. “Anyway, the first thing we did was discuss possible photographers—someone a lot more qualified than me. I know there are a few studios downtown, but I was certain we wouldn’t be able to find anyone last minute. So last night, I got to thinking that Claire’s son might be able to do it. He’s taking classes in photography at
Carteret
Community College
, and that’s what he wants to do when he graduates. I’d called Claire this morning and said that we might be stopping by, but Anna wasn’t so sure since she’d never seen any of his work. My other idea was to use someone she knows at the newspaper, but Anna told me that the newspaper frowns on that kind of freelance work. Anyway, to make a long story short, she wanted to check the studios on the off chance that someone might be available. And you’ll never guess what happened.” “Tell me,” I said.
    Jane popped the last of the mushroom into her mouth, letting the anticipation build. The tips of her fingers were shiny as she reached for another mushroom.   “These are really good,” she enthused. “Is this a new recipe?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Is it complicated?”
    “Not really,” I said, shrugging.
    She drew a deep breath. “So anyway, just like I thought, the first two places we visited were booked. But then we went to Cayton’s Studio. Have you ever seen the wedding pictures Jim Cayton does?”
    “I’ve heard he’s the best around.”
    “He’s amazing,” she said. “His work is stunning. Even Anna was impressed, and
    you know how she is. He did Dana Crowe’s wedding, remember? He’s usually booked
    six or seven months in advance, and even then he’s hard to get. I mean, there wasn’t a chance, right? But when I asked his wife—she’s the one who runs the studio—she told me that he’d had a recent cancellation.” She took another bite of her appetizer, chewing slowly.   “And it just so happens,” she announced with the faintest of shrugs, “that he was open for next Saturday.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “That’s wonderful,” I said.
    Now that the climax had been revealed, she began to speak more quickly, filling in the rest of the blanks.
    “Oh, you can’t believe how happy Anna was. Jim Cayton? Even if we had a year to plan, he’s the one I would have wanted. We must have spent a couple of hours flipping through some of the albums they’ve put together, just to get ideas.   Anna would ask me whether I liked these types of shots, or I’d ask which ones she liked. I’m sure Mrs. Cayton thinks we’re crazy. As soon as we’d finish an album, we’d ask for another—she was kind enough to answer every question we had.   By the time we left, I think both of us were just pinching ourselves at how lucky we’d been.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “So after that,” she continued breezily, “we headed out to the bakeries. Again, it took a couple of stops, but I wasn’t too worried about getting a cake. It’s not as if they have to prepare them months in advance, right? Anyway, we found a small place that could do it, but I didn’t realize how many choices they have.   There was an entire catalog devoted to wedding cakes. They have big cakes and small cakes, and every size in between. Then, of course, you have to decide what flavor you want it, what kind of frosting, the