Free Save the Date by Tamara Summers Page A

the guest’s name and table number in my well-practiced wedding handwriting, while Leo keeps track on a list and makes sure I get the table number and the spelling of the name correct. And then Carolina will carefully slide the card inside the vase, around the rose, so you can read the information through the glass.
    You may be saying to yourself…WHAAAAAT? Why is all this necessary? What’s wrong with pre-printed place cards and a cute little mesh bag of Jordan almonds at each seat? I’ll tell you what: That’s what Alex did.
    So, okay, why not something simple like a packet of wildflower seeds and a note that in lieu of fancy favors, a donation has been made to the Pediatric Foundation? Can you guess? Yup: That’s what Sydney did.
    So Victoria, being an art teacher, simply had to come up with something complicated, artsy, elaborate, and, let’s face it, as annoying as possible. Oh, but I’d be misleading you if I said we swung right into action on the assembly line.No, no, no. We can’t possibly start before Mom and Victoria review the assigned tables one more time. And then, of course, we have to sit through the huge argument about why the Gallos absolutely could not under any circumstances sit at the same table with the Bransens, and did Great-Aunt Beverly’s table have to be so close to the band, and was it really wise to seat Victoria’s fellow teachers with her most peculiar (Mom’s words, not mine) Renaissance festival friends (“well, they’re all SINGLE, Mom ,” Vicky huffs indignantly, as if that means they deserve their punishment).
    Suddenly Mom grabs the sheet of paper away from Vicky and squints at it. “Victoria,” she says, her voice rising, “have you crossed out two names at this table?”
    “Yes,” Vicky says, snatching the paper back.
    “Paris and her guest are not welcome at this wedding anymore.”
    “Victoria!” Mom says, scandalized. “I understand throwing her out of the wedding party, but she’s your sister ! She has to be at your wedding!”
    “No, she doesn’t,” Vicky says stubbornly.
    “I’m not going to hers, and I don’t want her at mine. She’ll ruin the whole thing if she’s there. Just like she always ruins everything.”
    “But Victoria darling,” Carolina points out, “then you’ll have two empty seats at your family’s table.”
    “I know,” Vicky says, directing a hard stare my way. “I’ve decided Sofia and Jack will have to bring guests to fill the spaces.”
    “What?” I protest. “No! Why? That’s not fair.”
    Leo gives me the puzzled look again.
    “Just invite someone else,” I say quickly. But Vicky is already shaking her head.
    “If you two bring guests, it’ll be perfect,” she says. “Mom and Dad, Alex and Harvey, Sydney and Marco, and then you two with your dates. And you’ll all have someone to dance with when the wedding party joins us on the dance floor. Symmetrical and perfect.”
    “But Paris—” my mom tries to interject.
    “Paris Paris Paris!” Vicky snaps. “This is my day, and I don’t want to hear her name again!”
    “This is my day” has been Vicky’s new favorite phrase for months. Unfortunately, it seems to apply to the entire ten-month engagement period.
    “It can’t be that hard,” Vicky says, poking me with her foot. “Just ask someone. Or I’ll do it for you. Oh my God,” she says as I open my mouth, “and don’t even try to tell me about your stupid Wedding Curse, or so help me I will beat you with one of these vases.”
    There are lots of things I regret in life, but telling Vicky about my vow is definitely up at the top somewhere. We were commiserating about Sydney’s wedding about a year ago, and it was late at night, and I was missing Sofia, and it just spilled out. Luckily I managed not to tell her the whole David story, or I’m sure the entire room would be hearing about that right now, too. And you know, Victoria thought my vow made sense, until she got engaged and apparently