Free Glamour by Melody Carlson Page B

me.”
    As I thank him again, I can’t help feeling like I just hired an escort. Really, how dumb is this? Maybe I should’ve just told my family the truth. What difference does it make? Or maybe it’s my pride … maybe I’m embarrassed to be dateless at my mom’s wedding. But if that were the case, why didn’t I just call someone else? There are plenty of guys in our college fellowship group who would willingly escort me to a wedding.
    “Erin,” Paige is calling to me. “Come help me with this.”
    And that’s how the morning starts and keeps on going — Paige calling the shots and me answering. By one o’clock we have ourselves and our mother pretty much together, and we’re actually not feeling too stressed. Mom looks elegant in her satin dress and pearls, her hair swept up in a French twist, her makeup done perfectly by Paige.
    “The limo will be here in about ten minutes,” Paige tells Mom.
    “A limo?” Mom blinks.
    Paige grins. “You bet. We are going out in style.”
    I’m opening the chilled sparkling cider that Paige insisted we must use to toast with before leaving the condo. I fill three champagne glasses, hand one each to Mom and Paige, then start the first toast.
    “Here’s to the best mom ever,” I say, “and to all the good times we’ve had together. And here’s to many, many more!”
    We clink glasses and sip, and then Paige makes a toast. “Here’s to a great marriage with a great guy.” She winks at Mom. “And to a great honeymoon!”
    “That reminds me,” I say suddenly, “I was supposed to have your bags at the door for the driver to take down. Are they in your room, Mom?”
    “Wait,” Mom says. “I need to make my toast.”
    So I pause as Mom raises her glass. “Here’s to the two best daughters any mother could ever want. Here’s to your careers and your futures. May they be as bright and beautiful as you two are.”
    We have a group hug and try not to cry. The next thing we know, the driver is knocking on the door and we’re scrambling to get Mom’s bags and gathering up the miscellaneous things that need to go to the rose garden with us. Finally we’re almost out the door, but Mom stops, takes one last look inside the condo—almost as if seeing if for the last time—then closes and locks the door.
    “It’s the beginning of a new era,” she says in a serious tone.
    Then to brighten the mood, I begin to sing “Here Comes the Bride,” and Paige joins in as we troop down the stairs in our wedding garb. But as we’re getting into the white limo, I see tears in my mother’s eyes. So Paige and I make small talk as we ride. Paige talks about details in regard to the wedding. I tell Mom about some of my favorite spots in Paris, although I’ve already written them down for her. I think we’re mostly just trying to fill the air, keeping things light and happy. I know I’m having a hard time holding back the tears.
    But once we’re at the garden, we’re distracted with getting ready, and soon the ceremony begins. The wedding goes fairly smoothly, thanks, I’m sure, to Paige’s meticulous planning. It is so beautiful in the rose garden. My mom was right to pick this place. The roses are in full bloom and the golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees is magical. And when I see Jon slip the ring onto Mom’s finger and look into her eyes with that expression of pure devotion on his face, I feel sure she’s in good hands.
    Then I see Mom’s face, just before they kiss, and she looks radiantly joyful. That’s when I give up trying to hold back my tears. Paige and I are both crying, but they’re happy tears. Mom has had so much sadness in her life that it would be impossible not to be glad for her now. I even think my dad is happy, and I feel him with us.
    After the wedding and some photos in the rose garden, the wedding party relocates to the hotel where the reception is being held in a ballroom. Although the wedding was small and intimate, and I