Page 109 of Old Habits
“I don’t care,” Sara says. “Just have at least five done tonight and posted around the square tomorrow morning.”
Natalie latches onto my arm. “Come on, Jovie.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Shopping for supplies.”
I let her pull me out of my chair and she guides us out into the hallway.
“Okay, Jovie. Spill,” she says. “What do you have planned so far?”
“Planned?”
“You know. For the wedding. Where’s your venue? The two of you have lived here your whole lives — save your little vacation, of course — so you’re probably going to have it here, right? There are three churches in Clover but only one of them has a sanctuary big enough to give a damn about. Or you can be like me and my Dickie and get hitched in the town square. Plenty of space there for whatever kind of ceremony you want.”
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have a ceremony or anything,” I say. “We’ll probably just elope at the courthouse.”
Natalie halts in the hallway mid-stride. “What?” she gasps. “Why—why—why would you elope? Why would you do that? What’s wrong with you?”
I glance around the sea of lockers and trophy cases. “What’s wrong with eloping?”
“Everything.”Her eyes grow wider. “You need a real wedding, Jovie. You need a big, white dress and flowers and a cake the size of your torso.”
“Why?” I ask.
Her mouth opens but only light stuttering comes out as she stares at me. “That’s… just… what you’re supposed to do.”
“Sounds expensive,” I say, nudging us forward again. “And, traditionally speaking, it’d be on me and my family to pay for that and I don’t know if you’ve ever met Hank Ross, but he’s not exactly a big saver and I stock dolls for minimum wage.”
She stops in front of the art room door. “Well, I’m sure the town would chip in to make your day special.”
I snort. “Really?”
“Well, I would.”
Natalie shoves it open and walks straight toward the paint cabinet in the corner. I flick on the light and pause as a few stray memories invade from my teenage days. I only took one art class the entire four years here. Don’t remember a damn thing I learned, though.
“Thanks, Natalie,” I say, watching as she sifts through large bottles of paint. “But I don’t think so.”
“What does Will think?” She points at my feet. “Grab that crate, will you?” I bend over and pick up an old milk crate from underneath the teacher’s desk. “Doesn’t he want a real wedding? Doesn’t he want to watch you walk down the aisle toward him?”
I stand beside her as she fills the crate with various paints and brushes. “I doubt he cares, honestly.”
Natalie tilts her head. “Are you sure?”
“I mean, we haven’t exactly talked about it or anything.”
“Why not? By this time in my engagement, I already had the venue booked, the officiant on lock, and multiple caterers engaged in bidding wars.”
“We’re just still in a celebratory phase, that’s all,” I tell her. “Once that wears off, I’m sure we’ll be in full wedding planning mode.”
“Well, as soon as you’re there, let me know,” she says. “I still have my wedding scrapbook and it’s full of ideas we never used.”
“Thanks.”
She leans in. “Can I see it again?”
I roll my eyes and set the heavy crate down on a desk before holding out my left hand. She grabs it and pulls it closer to get one more good look at my ring.