Free The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks Page B

shape, what additional decorations and all those kinds of things. . . .”
    “Sounds exciting,” I said.
    She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said, and I laughed at her obvious joy.
    The stars weren’t often in alignment, but tonight they seemed to be. Her mood was rapturous, the evening was young, and Jane and I were about to enjoy a romantic meal together. All seemed right with the world, and as I stood beside my wife of three decades, I suddenly knew that the day couldn’t have gone any better had I planned it in advance.
    While I finished preparing dinner, Jane continued filling me in on the rest of her day, going into detail about the cake (two layers, vanilla flavoring, sour cream frosting) and the photographs (Cayton fixes any imperfections on the computer). In the warm light of the kitchen, I could just make out the soft creases around the corners of her eyes, the feathery markings of our life together.
    “I’m glad it went well,” I said. “And considering it was your first day, you actually got quite a bit done.”
    The smell of melted butter filled the kitchen, and the veal began to sizzle slightly.
    “I know. And I am happy, believe me,” she said. “But we still don’t know where we should have the ceremony, and until then, I don’t know how to make the rest of the arrangements. I’d told Anna that we could have it here if she wanted, but she wasn’t too keen on the idea.”
    “What does she want?”
    “She isn’t sure yet. She thinks she might want to have a garden wedding of some sort. Someplace not too formal.”
    “It shouldn’t be too hard to find a place.”
    “You’d be surprised. The only place I could think of was the
Tryon
Palace
, but I don’t think we’ll be able to do that on such short notice. I don’t even know if they allow weddings there.”
    “Mmm . . .” I added salt, pepper, and garlic powder to the pan.   “The Orton Plantation is nice, too. Remember? That’s where we went to the Brattons’ wedding last year.”
    I remembered; it was in between Wilmington and Southport , almost two hours from New Bern . “It is sort of out of the way, isn’t it?” I asked. “Considering most of the guests are from around here?”
    “I know. It was just an idea. I’m sure it’s booked anyway.”
    “How about someplace downtown? At one of the bed-and-breakfasts?” She shook her head. “I think most of them might be too small—and I don’t know how many have gardens—but I suppose I can look into it. And if that doesn’t work . . . well, we’ll find someplace. At least I hope we can.” Jane frowned, lost in thought. She leaned against the counter and propped her stockinged foot against the cabinet behind her, for all the world the same young girl who talked me into walking her to her car. The second time I walked her to her car, I assumed she would simply get in her car and drive away, as she had the first time. Instead she’d struck just the same pose against the driver’s-side door, and we had what I consider to be our first conversation. I remember marveling at her animated features as she recounted the details of her life growing up in New Bern , and it was the first time I sensed the attributes I would always cherish: her intelligence and passion, her charm, the carefree way she seemed to view the world. Years later, she showed the same traits when raising our children, and I know it’s one of the reasons they’ve become the kind and responsible adults they are today.
    Breaking into Jane’s distracted reverie, I cleared my throat. “I went to visit Noah today,” I said.
    At my words, Jane resurfaced. “How’s he doing?”
    “Okay. He looked tired, but he was in good spirits.”
    “Was he at the pond again?”
    “Yes,” I said. Anticipating her next question, I added: “The swan was there, too.”
    She pressed her lips together, but not wanting to ruin her mood, I quickly went on.
    “I told him about the