Free School of Fortune by Amanda Brown

of leaving the stage. Some corner of her brain knew that she was one step away from being the star of the show. “I’ll be okay.”
    Rosimund settled back into her seat. “If only that ring bearer had one ounce of Arabella’s gumption,” she commented loudly to her husband.
    After Chardonnay and the violinist were removed from the auditorium, the Reverend Alcott wisely decided to stop reading from the script. It was an indecipherable mess of overstrikes and insertions. “After the Scriptures, there will be a choral interlude.” The choir sang “How Lovely Are Thy Dwellings” from the Brahms
Requiem.
“Then I will read a love poem by Tennyson.” Fortunately Cedric had not edited any of that. “After which the orchestra will play the overture to
Romeo and Juliet
by Tchaikovsky.”
    â€œIsn’t that a bit heavy?” Rosimund asked across the aisle.
    â€œYour son requested it,” Thayne shot back.
    â€œI will then read a brief history of the Walker family, followed by a brief history of the Henderson family. I assure you that each reading will be exactly the same word length,” the Reverend took care to add. “Then the brass quintets will play the
Royal Fireworks Music
by Handel.”
    Thayne noticed that three bridesmaids looked fairly chartreuse. “We’ll skip that for now.”
    â€œNext the bride and groom will exchange vows. Lance, please join me here.” Every distaff heart in the auditorium broke as Lance stepped forward and mumbled his wedding vows with Pippa. Cedric stepped in for Tommy, the banished ring bearer. “Then I’ll say, ‘Mr. Henderson, you may kiss your wife, Ms. Walker.’“
    Rosimund sprang to her feet. “Excuse me, Reverend Alcott! You do mean
Mrs. Henderson,
don’t you?”
    He studied the script. “It says
Ms. Walker.”
In boldface italics, 20-point type.
    Rosimund trained her sweetest, deadliest smile across the aisle. “I’m afraid this won’t do, Thayne. It is inconceivable that a woman fortunate enough to be marrying a Henderson would not take the family name.”
    â€œI’ve told Pippa it’s all right, Mother,” Lance said quietly.
    Deeply shocked, Rosimund sank into her seat. A moment later, everyone could see her dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “What about the grandchildren?” she moaned to her husband.
    Once again the Reverend Alcott leaped into the breach. “When I say ‘kiss the bride, Lance,’ the bell choir will play ‘O Happy, Happy Day’ by John Williams. Let’s rehearse that, shall we?”
    Upset at his mother’s tears, Lance could only muster a perfunctory kiss for Pippa as the bell choir chimed out a triumphant theme that sounded a little like
Raiders of the Lost Ark.
When the piece finally ended, Thayne stood up. “Lance, you’re going to have to do much better than that. Mr. Williams has composed twenty seconds of music for this climactic moment, at five thousand dollars per second I might add, and you’re expected to be kissing Pippa for the full count.”
    â€œMama, this is really embarrassing,” Pippa said. “Could we leave it until tomorrow?”
    Stung, Thayne looked across the aisle. She felt Rosimund’s pain. “What’s gotten into everyone today?”
    â€œI don’t know, dear,” came the hurt, muffled reply.
    His voice on its last legs, the Reverend Alcott whispered, “The musicians will then join forces for the Hallelujah Chorus. The bridal party will follow Lance and Pippa out.” He looked at the pale couple. “I’d scram if I were you.”
    Lance and Pippa nearly ran out of the auditorium, followed by their attendants. Pippa ditched her train in the lobby, then piled into the first limousine with Lance, who was already dialing Rosimund’s cell phone. Pippa waited until he had smoothed his mother’s ruffled