“Do you think it’s safe?” Francis asked anxiously.

“It’s closing time,” Marco said. “Everybody’s gone except maybe the guy who’ll lock up.”

They pulled the empty dishwasher box out of the backseat, placed it on the ground behind the car, and opened the trunk. The four wedding gowns were in a jumble. One by one they pulled them out and stuffed them down into the rough cardboard container.

“I hope they’ll all fit,” Francis fretted.

“We’ll make them fit,” Marco said resolutely as he gave a final squash to the dresses that Alfred and Charisse had labored over so lovingly. “Give me the tape.”

Francis leaned in the trunk and grabbed a roll of masking tape they’d used with the ropes to bind Alfred and Charisse’s hands.

Marco closed the sides, sealed the box, and they tossed it into the trunk. Quickly, they got back in the car and drove off.

A moment later a visitor to the cemetery teetered out from behind one of the mausoleums. Something on the ground caught her eye. The elderly woman leaned down and picked up a beautiful, antique-white lace button that had fallen off one of the dresses. “Oh, darling,” she whispered as she walked back to her husband’s tombstone. “Whenever I visit, you always give me a sign that you know I’m here, don’t you?” Smiling, she examined the button that reminded her of the buttons on her wedding dress. The dress she’d worn exactly sixty years ago today. “It’s got a tiny logo with the initials A and C on the back,” she said aloud. “Too bad they’re not our initials, sweetheart, but I’ll treasure it all the same.”

A moment later her driver pulled up. He turned off the radio before she got in the car. He’d been listening to Jess and Kenny.

The Saturday before a guy gets married is expected to be stressful, but it shouldn’t be this stressful, Pauly Sanders thought as he returned to his spacious two-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. His roommate had moved out the month before to make way for Brianne. The minute he was gone, a van pulled up with a slew of Brianne’s belongings and several cans of paint.

“This place needs work,” she insisted.

To Pauly, it looked just fine. He’d been lucky to buy it before the market got too crazy. And he’d been lucky to keep it when he was unemployed. A funny feeling hit him in the stomach. Being unemployed and engaged hadn’t been the world’s greatest combination. He’d be starting his new job when they returned from their honeymoon. He couldn’t wait to get back to work and start collecting a paycheck again.

In the foyer of his apartment he pulled off his dark wet raincoat and dropped it along with his knapsack on the floor. He kicked off his heavy black shoes and left them there.

“One of the last times I’ll be able to get away with that,” he mumbled as he trudged into the bedroom. He changed into dry clothes, sat on the bed, and pulled on a pair of white gym socks. Trying to catch his breath, he looked around.

Brianne and the decorator she worked for had been traipsing in and out of the apartment every other day, planning their “touchups.” It was enough to make a man crazy. Pauly’s bachelor pad was being gussied up with flowery window treatments and fancy pillows, pillows that were not meant for resting one’s weary head on.

But he loved Brianne. She was a piece of goods. She didn’t take any of his garbage. She was the first girl he truly fell in love with, and he didn’t want to lose her.

The phone rang. He grabbed the cordless next to the bed. It was his beloved.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me! Where have you been?” Brianne practically shrieked.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’ve had the crisis of my life and I haven’t been able to reach you. Didn’t you check your messages?”

“No. I was doing a lot of thinking. And I was busy. To tell you the truth, I thought you were going to be tied up with your mother. This is a reflective day for me. My last Saturday as a bachelor.”

“Don’t give me reflective!” Brianne screamed. “Didn’t you see me on NY1?”

Pauly’s phone beeped, which meant another caller wanted his ear. “Hold on a second, baby.” He pressed the call-waiting button. “Hello.”

“Pauly! Did you see Brianne on NY1?” It was Pauly’s best man, Tony.

“As a matter of fact I didn’t. And I’m catching a lot of flak for it now. I don’t even know why she was on. Let me call you back.” Pauly clicked the button. “Brianne, that was Tony. He saw you on NY1.”

“How did he think I looked?”

“He didn’t say. I didn’t give him a chance. Honey, what happened?”

Pauly laid back on the bed as Brianne explained everything that had happened, down to the last detail. “And the dress was not only covered with ants, it had been eaten by moths. My mother wants to call and scream at the dry cleaner, but he went out of business twenty years ago.”

“Maybe you could wear my sister’s dress.”

Brianne howled in protest.

“Maybe not.”

“She just got married a month ago! I’m not going to be seen in her dress. The champagne stains aren’t even dry. Besides, she had no right getting married before us. We were engaged first.”

“All right. All right. I was just trying to help.”

“I’m sorry, Pauly. I don’t want you to think I’m difficult.”

Pauly rolled his eyes. He started to sing softly. “I love you just the way you are.”

“Our wedding song,” Brianne said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I love you just the way you are, too,” Brianne said without a trace of sentiment.

“That’s what we decided,” Pauly croaked. “No putting each other on pedestals. No unrealistic expectations. For better or for worse. No matter what, we’re there for each other.”

“What did you do?” Brianne asked, suddenly suspicious.

Pauly sat up quickly and looked out at his dark wet raincoat sprawled on the floor of the foyer, his knapsack and shoes next to it. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Did you pick up the ushers’ cuff links from the jeweler?”

“Oh, I forgot.”

“Did you pick up your new suit from the tailor?”

“No.”

“What have you been doing all day?”

“I’ve been really nervous.”

“So, I guess you didn’t return the television to Dan’s Discount Den?”

“I thought we were going to k-keep it,” he stammered.

“No, we weren’t. I want a little television for the kitchen counter to keep me company when I cook you nice dinners. You’ve lost too much weight these past few months. That TV we bought is too big.”

“Maybe we can ride over there tomorrow, and you can bring it in.”

“Me?”

“I’m embarrassed to return things. I’ve always been that way. My mother used to return clothes after she wore them, and I couldn’t stand it.”

“You never told me that.”

“I was too embarrassed. But it’s true. It affected me.”

“Pauly?”

“Yes.”

“We haven’t used the TV. We barely took it out of the box. It’s still wrapped in plastic. There’s no issue here. Just your issue about your mother. She doesn’t seem like the type who would return clothes after wearing them.”

“All right, Brianne. All right. What are you going to do about your dress?” he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“My father called and threatened Alfred. Said he’d better have a new dress made for me by Wednesday.”

“Wednesday!”

Brianne managed to laugh. “Thursday at the latest. This has been some day, Pauly. Tonight when I go out with the girls, I plan to just let it rip.”

Pauly glanced at his reflection in the full-length mirror that was hanging next to the closet. His five-foot-eight-inch frame looked haggard. His dark hair was matted down. “That’s it, baby. Just have fun tonight. We may as well try to enjoy life while we can. I’ll try to have a good time tonight, too.”

“Are you sure nothing happened?”