He turned toward us.
"The people of Cutler's Cove joyfully welcome Mr. and Mrs. James Gary Longchamp to our community and wish them health, happiness and success. May you two have a long and wonderful marriage and be blessed from this day forward. To James and Dawn," he cried, and the crowd of guests repeated, "To James and Dawn."
Immediately someone began to tap his glass,
and the entire place reverberated with a chorus of tinkles. We knew that meant they wanted to see us kiss. We did so quickly, because Jimmy was quite shy about it. There was laughter and applause, and then the music and the meal began.
There was fresh melon and salad and a cup of soup. The main dish was filet mignon with baked potatoes and stir-fried vegetables. Mother had had the baker design bread in the shape of wedding bells. The courses were well spaced so that people could get up and enjoy the dancing while they feasted.
Jimmy and I got up and danced twice, and then Philip requested a dance. I looked at Jimmy. His eyes narrowed, but he nodded gently, and I accepted.
"I have to hand it to Mother," he said while he held me close to him, "she outdid herself this time. I've never seen such an affair at the hotel. You can be sure Grandmother wouldn't have spent this much."
"Mother doesn't know a thing about money and costs, nor could she care."
"Spoken like a true Cutler," he said, smiling.
"Stop saying that, Philip. I'm just trying to be realistic. I see the plus and minus columns every day," I replied. He looked impressed.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm glad she didn't spare the expense. I can't think of anyone I'd like to see enjoy it more than you.
"I wonder," he continued, "if my wedding will be anything like this. I expect it might."
"Have you become formally engaged?" I asked.
"Not yet, but soon," he said. "My fiancée’s parents are very wealthy."
"I'm happy for you, Philip."
"Of course," he said, swinging me to the side, "money isn't important if you're not with the one you want to be with."
"But you are, aren't you, Philip?" I pursued.
"You know, I'll always wish it was you and I, Dawn," he replied. His eyes were soft, limpid pools of desire.
"Well, we both know that can't and never will be. So there's no sense talking about it, is there?"
"No, you're right," he said. "It's only painful to do so." When the dance ended I asked him if he would go look in on Randolph.
"See what's keeping him," I asked.
"Your wish is my command," he replied, bowing like a dutiful servant, and he left. Before I could return to the dais the music started again, and I felt myself being turned. I looked up into Bronson Alcott's eyes.
"May I have this next dance?" he asked. I looked toward the dais. Jimmy was talking to some of the hotel staff. "Yes," I said. He took hold of me firmly, and we began. "You know," he said, "I'm quite envious of James. He's landed the best catch at the shore."
"It's the other way around, Mr. Alcott. I've landed the best catch."
He laughed.
"Please, call me Bronson," he said again. "I don't like feeling older than you."
"No wonder you and my mother get along so well," I said petulantly. His smile widened. "She never wants to act her age either."
He roared and swung me around. I had to admit to myself that in his arms I did feel like a princess. He was so graceful. Our dancing caught the attention of a number of the guests, many of whom stopped dancing themselves to watch us. Before long it seemed as if the entire wedding party was staring our way, especially Mother, who wore the most unusual look on her face—a mixture of jealousy and sadness. When the number ended there was some applause.
"We're a hit," Bronson said. "Thank you."
"Thank you," I said, and I hurried back to Jimmy, who looked overwhelmed.