Whenever you’re ready.” Natalie choked back tears as Quinn’s father offered her his arm in preparation to walk her “up the aisle.” Just as Quinn had promised, Sinead’s house was gorgeous, perched high atop a hill in Bearsville with spectacular views of rolling hills and small mountains. Since they’d decided on July for the wedding, they were getting married outside beneath a white trellis adorned with pink roses and baby’s breath. Rows of white folding chairs had been set up on either side of the trellis, constituting “the aisle.” They’d asked one of the guitarists from the band who’d played Vivi and Anthony’s reception to play the “Wedding March” on acoustic guitar for them. He’d happily agreed. The reception was being held on the front lawn beneath a large white tent with a small dance floor in the middle. They had hired the same band that had played Vivi’s wedding, as well as the same caterers, Spallone. Anthony’s pastry chef made the three-tiered wedding cake.
