It Had To Be You (22 page)

He quirked a brow, and we all laughed.

“Well, I’m getting better, anyway,” I said. “So we won’t starve. And Mama can cook. She just rarely gets the chance to prove it.”

“Good point. She will certainly have the chance now.” He turned once more, looking in the mirror. “You don’t think folks will mind that I’m not wearing a tux and tails? That was an option too. We just thought this would be more fun.”

“Fun is good,” I said with a smile. “It’s your wedding, Laz. You make it what you want it to be. If I’ve learned anything during my time in this business, it’s that the bride and groom get what they want, not what others want for them.”

“Another good point, my dear.” He gave me a tender look. “That’s why you’re the wedding planner and I’m not.”

I spent a few more minutes giving instructions, then headed into the reception hall to check on the band and the singers. When I found Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue, I couldn’t help but gasp. “Ladies!” I gestured for them to turn around, and they did, but not without setting off a shimmer that almost blinded me. I’d never seen so many sequins. And those little hats. Darling!

“I saw this outfit in a movie once,” Twila said, gesturing to her dress. “Ingrid Bergman.
Casablanca
.” She fussed with her waistline and groaned. “Of course, hers was a size 2 and mine is a 22, but never mind all that.”

I stifled a laugh.

“My dress is cut from the same pattern as Ginger Rogers’s in
Top Hat
,” Bonnie Sue said. “I’ve always loved that movie.” She giggled. “Makes me wonder what my Fred Astaire is up to right about now.”

“Fred Astaire?” I gave her a curious look.

“She’s talking about Sal,” Jolene said, rolling her eyes. “We keep telling her he’s off limits, but she thinks she’s going to win him to the Lord by slipping on her dancing shoes and taking him for a spin around the dance floor. Tell her it’s senseless, Bella. Missionary dating is never a good idea, especially at a wedding.”

I turned to Bonnie Sue, unsure of what to say. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the idea altogether. “Oh, c’mon, ladies. I’m just having fun. I’ll behave myself, whether Fred and Ginger trip the light fantastic or not.”

“What about you?” I asked, turning to Jolene.

“Oh, Bette Davis wore this dress in
The Man Who Came
to Dinner
.” She ran her hands along the edges of her broad hips. “Of course, some of us have had a little
too
much dinner, thereby leading to a larger dress size, but I don’t suppose it matters, do you? I mean, glamour is glamour, no matter a lady’s size.”

“Amen to that,” Bonnie Sue and Twila threw in.

“Well, you look gorgeous.” I gave them an encouraging smile. “And you’re going to blow the crowd away with your songs too. I can hardly wait for the reception.”

“Same here!” Twila lit into the chorus of “Eight to the Bar,” and within seconds the women were singing in perfect harmony. I gestured for them to take their rehearsal into the hallway since guests were arriving. I slipped to the back of the room and adjusted the overhead lights, turning them down a bit. The twinkling Christmas lights gave the room a heavenly glow. Perfect.

I happened to glance across the room, taking note of Earline. Excusing myself, I took a few steps in her direction. As I approached, she looked up from her music with a joyous expression on her face.

“Bella!” She took my hand. “You look fabulous.”

“Do you like my dress?” I spun around, showing it off.

“Do I!” She smiled. “That boy of mine is going to flip when he sees you.” Her brows elevated. “And I have a feeling you’re going to flip when you see him too. In fact …” She gestured for me to turn around, so I did. My heart leaped to my throat when I saw D.J. in his tuxedo. Wowza! I’d seen the boy in a suit before, but never anything like this. The black tuxedo and tails made me giddy. I felt like I’d walked straight onto a movie set. I wanted to rush to his side to tell him just how dashing he looked. To let him know he took my breath away. Unfortunately, the room was rapidly filling with guests. I barely had enough time to slip over for a moment or two.

“Bella!” He whistled, and I felt my cheeks turn warm. “We’re gonna have a little chat about this getup you’re wearing when the night is through. You’re raising my blood pressure.”

“Mine’s through the roof too,” I said, gesturing to his tux. “But I don’t have time for a medical condition tonight. Too much to do.”

He gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, and I nestled against him, happy for even a few seconds alone with my leading man. The spell was broken when Sophia rushed my way to let me know that Jenna needed me in the kitchen. D.J. and I talked through a few last-minute instructions, and then I headed off to the kitchen to calm Jenna down. Turned out she’d misplaced one of the large salad bowls. I found it in a jiffy, and she dove into action, filling it with the luscious Caesar salad. Man, were the guests ever going to love this meal!

Speaking of guests, I gave the hall another quick glance and realized they were arriving in force now. Glancing at my watch, I took note of the time—6:55. Wouldn’t be long now till we could get this show on the road.

After tying up a couple more loose ends, I raced to the bride room to prepare the ladies. We could hear the strains of “It Had to Be You” playing in the reception hall. Gordy and the band sounded great. I could almost envision Jeho-shaphat and those Levites now, leading the way. Only this time, there were no enemies to fight. No, only friends and loved ones tonight. And a theatrical entrance for the world’s most anticipated bride.

“You ready, Rosa?” I asked.

She turned to me with a twinkle in her eye. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how ready. I dare you to try and hold me back!”

“I wouldn’t think of it!” With that proclamation, I led our merry little band into the hallway. When we reached the entrance to the reception hall, I paused to make sure Laz was at the front of the room next to Father Michael. Talk about perfect timing.

The groomsmen joined us in the hallway, and I could read the anticipation in their eyes. When I gave the signal, Sal and Bianca made their way down the aisle first, taking slow, calculated steps. They were followed by Emilio and Bertina. I had to wonder what Francesca was thinking right about now. I caught a glimpse of her seated near the front. She dabbed at her eyes.

When Emilio and Bertina reached the halfway point, Pop took Mama’s arm, and they made their way down the long aisle. For whatever reason, seeing my parents walk the aisle together almost did me in. I tried to imagine what they must be feeling, walking the aisle again after so many years as husband and wife. Were they reflecting on their own wedding day all those years ago?

As the last couple of measures of “It Had to Be You” lingered over us, I happened to notice D.J. at the sound table. He gave me a little wink, and my heart fluttered. I found the moment strangely prophetic, almost as if God had arranged all of this just for the two of us. That song, with its nearperfect lyrics. The ambient lighting. That miraculous band. Yes, surely the Lord had gifted us with a moment of privacy in the midst of this very public celebration.

I didn’t have time to ponder this for long. The song came to its rightful conclusion, and Earline joined with the band to play a forties swing-style version of “The Wedding March.” I’d never heard this particular rendition, but it certainly fit the theme of the night.

I reached to give my precious aunt a kiss on the cheek before releasing her to make the walk down the aisle. The crowd rose and turned to face the back of the room, clearly anxious to see the bride in all of her glory. Rosa gave me a little nod and then took her first step. And her second. I smiled as I watched her make this journey alone. She had her reasons. This I knew from a prior conversation. In fact, I could almost hear her words as they replayed in my mind now:
This is going to be my last walk without a man leading
the way, Bella Bambina. Let me enjoy it.

Oh, but Someone was leading the way. In fact, he’d led the way from the beginning till now. Tears sprang to my eyes as that truth nuzzled its way into my spirit. He had led Rosa to America. Led her to our hearts. Led her to Lazarro Rossi. And he would continue leading her into a thousand dazzling tomorrows.

Funny. Call me a romantic fool, but through my tears, the twinkling Christmas lights overhead almost looked like stars. And the man and woman standing in front of the crowd—my beautiful aunt and my dashing uncle? Why, they were the sun and the moon, merging to put on the most spectacular light display this family had ever seen.

Now that was what I called ambient lighting.

Standing at the back of the reception hall, I had the best seat in the house. Father Michael led Rosa and Laz through the tender ceremony, and the crowd came alive with excitement as they shared their first sweet kiss as a married couple, a handful of us even clapping and cheering.

Husband and wife. Could it really be? After all the years of quarreling and squabbling, they had laid down their swords and picked up their hearts instead. As I looked into their smiling faces, I realized the Lord had performed nothing short of a miracle.

Rosa and Laz turned to face the congregation—if that’s what one could call a swing-band hall filled with guests— as Father Michael pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Lazarro Rossi. At this point, cheers went up around the room, and several people—Sal included—shouted, “
Evviva gli sposi!
Hurray for the newlyweds!”

Rosa and Laz practically sprinted up the aisle, clearly ready to face the rest of their life together. Who could blame them? I glanced through the now-standing congregation to seek out D.J. He looked up from the sound booth as the band began to play “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” I gave a shy little wave, suddenly very aware of the fact that our wedding was next. Now that Laz and Rosa were truly man and wife, I could focus—at last—on my own big day. And focus I would … just as soon as we made it through the reception.

Father Michael gave the guests their instructions, letting everyone know they could help themselves to appetizers while photos were taken. I had no time to dally. Not with so much left to do!

The guests headed to the appetizer table, and Nick, Sophia, Jenna, Bubba, and I flew into high gear, getting the rest of the food ready to be placed on the table.

Off in the distance, Joey snapped photos of the wedding party, and guests nibbled on tasty hors d’oeuvres. Looked like everything was coming together, right down to the fabulous decor on the tables. Marcella had done a fine job with that. In fact, she’d done a fine job with everything.

Marcella! For the first time in days, I remembered her news. We were having a baby girl! There were still plenty of surprises ahead for the Rossi clan, no doubt about that. I had to wonder how—and where—Marcella and Nick would spring the good news.

Hmm. Obviously not tonight. No, we clearly had other things to deal with tonight. Like getting these guests fed and making sure the bridal party was served.

I’d learned from the master—Rosa—that most true Italian weddings have at least thirteen courses. We’d managed to convince her to trim back a bit and to offer the food buffet style, and she and Laz had done a superb job preparing all of our favorites. As the buffet table was filled, the tantalizing scent of garlic filled the air, getting all of our guests stirred up. I’d never seen so much food in my life or so many happy, hungry souls.

The guests mingled until photographs were taken, and I gave the buffet table a final sweep with my eyes. First up was the antipasto. The stuffed mushrooms, olives, salami, and prosciutto made my mouth water. Yum! I glanced at the next spot on the buffet table, where a large pot of Italian wedding soup still bubbled. The savory meatballs and rice were topped off with more than adequate amounts of Parmesan cheese. I could almost taste it now.

Beyond the wedding soup, large bowls of Caesar salad beckoned, the crisp green romaine practically begging to be eaten. I could smell the tangy dressing from here—Rosa’s homemade, of course. Nothing from a bottle for her wedding day! She wouldn’t dream of it.

After the salad came my favorite part—the bread. I wasn’t sure how or when Jenna and Bubba had done it, but they’d arranged a variety of breads—sliced sourdough, rolls, flaky croissants, and more—on the table in true Italian style. The colorful bread baskets were tipped up on their sides with bread spilling out onto red-checkered cloths. I smiled as I saw dozens of Rosa’s garlic twists on display, the buttery garlic oozing onto the pieces below. Guests were sure to love those. They were the stuff Food Network specials were made of, after all.

I paused to think about that. Rosa had turned down a weekly show on the Food Network to marry Laz. Not because he’d asked her to, but because she couldn’t picture taking time away from him to pursue the life of a celebrity. How different things might have turned out if Laz had never declared his love. Perhaps Rosa would already be living elsewhere, her weekly television show beamed out to would-be chefs across the country. Instead, she was right here, where she belonged. With her family. Her husband.

Husband.
Oh, what a glorious word! Soon enough, I would have one of my very own, one I’d gladly trade fame and fortune for. Well, fame, anyway. Hopefully, I could still make a profit from the wedding facility. Before long, this place would be overwhelmed with weddings; I could just feel it. After my own wedding, of course. Right now, that was the most important thing—to give myself plenty of undivided time preparing for my own big day!

My gaze went back to the table, and I took in the bubbling chicken cacciatore, the fettuccini with its creamy Alfredo sauce, and the large platter of cannelloni. After that came the meats—beef, chicken, and fish. Salmon, to be precise—my personal favorite, especially Laz’s version, with basil crust and ratatouille salsa.

By the time I got to the end of the table, my head was swimming. In a good way. And this didn’t even include the many desserts. I turned my attention to the sweets table, looking at the fresh berries and pastries. I smiled as I took in the little twists of fried dough powdered with sugar. Rosa had called them
wandas
, explaining that they symbolized good tidings for the bride and groom. They were the perfect complement to the Italian wedding cookies on the next tray and the tiramisu just beyond that. We couldn’t have a party without Rosa’s tiramisu!