Not for the first time, Tony Mullin wondered why in the world she had agreed to stand up in Jim and Julia Richie’s second wedding.  Looking at herself in the mirror in the dark blue velvet medieval monstrosity of a dress, she couldn’t really come up with an answer.
    Except that Julia was her best friend, had been since forever, and renewing her vows on her tenth anniversary meant the world to her.
    With a sigh, Tony adjusted the tall pointy hat over her sleekly upswept hair and pinned it in place, adjusting the gauzy blue veils around her face.  A collection of dark blonde strands refused to stay in place, falling in less-than-artful disarray around her face.  She looked ridiculous.
    The fabric was wonderful, though.  Tony slid her hand down the sensuous softness of the velvet and imagined once again the suit it would become once the ceremony was over--Tony’s own version of a designer suit she’d seen in a fashion magazine.  It was one of the reasons she’d finally agreed to participate, especially when Julia had offered to foot the bill.
    The dippy hat seemed to sit a bit too low on her forehead; Tony loosened a few pins and readjusted it.  It hadn’t seemed right, letting Julia buy the dress.  But Julia had insisted.
    “It’s not a wedding wedding, after all,” she’d argued.  “We’re just renewing our vows.”
    Tony had just shaken her head, knowing she was about to agree to whatever Julia asked.  “I still can’t believe you convinced Jim to wear tights.”
    Julia and Jim’s first wedding had been a simple affair, with a Justice of the Peace presiding and Tony and her then-husband Rudy James presiding as witnesses.  But Julia had always wanted a big to-do with the wedding party in medieval garb, and that was what she was about to get.  The participants were the same--Julia as bride, Jim as groom and Tony as the lone bridesmaid--but the setting looked like something out of a bad Robin Hood movie.
    “More like Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” Tony muttered. She stepped out to meet the crowd.

****

    Not for the first time, David Peterson wondered why he’d been invited to Julia and Jim Richie’s second wedding.
    Apparently he wasn’t the only guest with the same question.  Except the curious gazes that followed him as he walked up the aisle asked not, “What is he doing here?” but “Who is he?”
    David muffled a smile as he sat down.  He had most of a pew to himself.  The guest list appeared to consist of his and Julia’s entire graduating class, but that had only been about fifty people.  He recognized most of the faces--people he’d planned never to see again.
    He smoothed his Dilbert tie, straightened his Armani suit jacket, and picked up his program.  As he glanced over the order of the ceremony, his heart did a strange little dollop in his chest and suddenly he understood.
    Julia’s single bridesmaid was Antonytte Mullin.
    Mullin.  Not James.  Mullin.
    And David knew he had fallen into the hands of Fate.

****

    “I still don’t understand why you invited Cheryl and Missy.”  
    Tony adjusted her big pointy hat for the hundredth time while Julia preened soberly, preparing for the first of the guests to reach the short receiving line.
    Julia shrugged.  “I thought you might want to see them.  I mean, you guys were the tight little cheerleading trio in high school.  Besides, I invited pretty much our whole graduating class.”  She readjusted her white velvet bodice, which had been dislodged slightly by the shrug, then smoothed her dark hair, pinned up under her own tall pointy hat.  “A lot of them still live up this way, and God knows they could use a party.”  She turned to Jim.  “Your hose are bagging again, darling.”
    Jim gave his wife a wry look.  “Ask me if I care.”
    Tony looked down at Jim’s wrinkly ankles, grinning.  She thought Jim was quite a sport, agreeing to wear the tights and blue velvet tunic.  Not to mention the weird little pointy shoes.  To be asked to hike his hose up every five minutes was, in Tony’s mind and apparently Jim’s as well, above and beyond the call of duty.
    Then the bride’s uncle arrived to clasp Jim’s hand warmly and say, “I’ll tell you, boy, that was the weirdest damn wedding I’ve ever been to . . .”
    Tony gamely shook hands and accepted pecks on the cheek, all the while feeling her hat edge closer and closer to her eyebrows.  There hadn’t seemed to be nearly so many guests when they were seated in the church.  The line seemed to go on forever . . .
    Then, quite suddenly, time stopped.
    He was near the end of the line, and Tony had no idea who he was.  At first she thought he might be the spouse of one of her old schoolmates, but he stood between two couples and was unmistakably alone.  Which meant he had to be somebody from Tony and Julia’s graduating class.
    Tony found herself less and less able to concentrate on what she was doing as he came closer.  He was tall and slim, with dark hair and a wide jaw.  His suit fit him too well not to be expensive.  But who was he?
    His turn came.  Julia and Jim greeted him like they knew him, but didn’t say his name.  Then he turned to Tony.  Something disturbingly familiar lurked in those gray eyes, but Tony still found herself at a loss.
    He squeezed her hand, then leaned forward to put a small kiss on her cheek.  When he drew back, he was smiling.
    “Nice hat,” he said, and went on his way.

****
    

Tony was able to remove her hat for the short drive to the reception, mostly because she couldn’t get into the car with it on.  When they arrived at the Community Center, she conveniently forgot it in the back seat.  Under a low, glowering sky that promised an April snow, she dashed hatless into the low building.
    Julia didn’t seem to notice Tony’s hat deficiency.  In fact, she didn’t seem to notice Tony at all as Tony sat down next to the bride and groom at the head table.  They were as absorbed in each other as real newlyweds.  Envious, Tony sipped at her water glass and tried to pretend she wasn’t a bitter divorcée.
    Well, maybe not that bitter.  Or at least she was trying not to be.  But the fact remained that it had been five years since her divorce, and weddings--even this one--still left a bad taste in her mouth.
    Or maybe especially this one.  After all, this wasn’t a promise between two people to love each other forever, made in the heat of passion.  This was an affirmation of a love that had survived ten years, and appeared to be stronger than ever.  Tony despaired of ever finding such a thing.
    After a few minutes of nuzzling and cooing, Jim was finally distracted by a friend who dropped by to chat, and Julia turned to Tony.
    “Sorry about that,” she said.  “This is our first evening away from the kids in about a year.”
    “It’s okay,” Tony replied.  She chewed on an ice cube and swallowed it.  She usually ate dinner about five-thirty, and it was rapidly approaching six.  “Did you notice the clouds?” she asked Julia.  “Is it supposed to snow tonight?”
    Jim bent his head around to insinuate himself into the conversation.  “Yeah, it’s supposed to snow, but just a dusting, as far as I could tell from the weather report.”
    Julia waved her hand, dismissing Jim’s statement.  “What can you tell from the weather report?  They can guess about Denver but they have no idea what’s going to happen up here.”
    Tony hoped the weather report was right.  It was a long drive down the mountain to Lakewood, and if it snowed too much, she’d be stranded--
    There he was again.  Standing in line at the bar.  Tony elbowed Julia frantically and probably a little harder than necessary.
    “Ow!” Julia exclaimed.  “What’s the matter?”
    “Who is that?”  Tony pointed carefully, holding her hand close to the table.
    Julia looked toward the bar.  “Who is who?”
    “The tall one with the brown hair and the expensive suit.”
    Julia looked, frowning, then suddenly her eyebrows rose and a slow smile spread across her face.  “You don’t recognize him?”
    “Should I?”
    Julia’s smile had become disturbingly sly.  “I don’t know.  Why don’t you go get yourself a drink and see if you can find out?”
    Tony set her mouth and stood.  “Maybe I just will.  Would you care for anything?”
    “Tom Collins,” said Jim, who somehow managed to follow his own conversation, yet dip into Julia’s at the most opportune moments.
    Julia sniffed her opinion of Jim’s drink choice.  “Traitor.  I want a glass of that mead your brother made for me.”
    Tony grinned.  At the risk of further offending Julia, she was getting a fuzzy navel.
    By the time Tony got in line, two more people stood between her and the mystery man.  She watched him as he waited his turn. The woman in front of him, whom Tony recognized from her Sophomore biology class, chatted him up shamelessly, eyes wide and flirtatious as she smiled and chatted and touched him on the sleeve.  Tony wanted to slap her.
    Instead she gathered her velvet train a little closer to keep it from being stepped on, and examined the man in question.  Mostly she could just see the back of his head, but occasionally he turned enough to expose his profile.  His nose was long and straight--almost too long, really--and his dark forelock hung down across his forehead.  There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t place it.  It was like seeing something out of the corner of her eye, but when she tried to look directly at him, it slipped out of her sight.
    And her timing couldn’t have been worse.  He got his drink and left the bar, and Tony still had to wait her turn.  By the time she had acquired her collection of drinks, the mystery man had disappeared into the crowd milling toward the hors d’oeuvres.
    Irritated but undaunted, Tony inched her way back to her table, scanning the crowd as she did so.  She was squinting over her shoulder at a brown-haired man across the room, and had just determined he wasn’t her quarry when she crashed full-tilt into a wide chest.  Mead, orange juice, schnapps, and whatever was in a Tom Collins went everywhere.
    Tony swung around, her face going hot.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.  “I’m so, so sorry--”
    And then she stopped.  Because the chest she’d collided with belonged to him, and some strange quirk inside her head had finally figured out who he was.
    “Oh, my God,” she said, vaguely aware of Julia heading toward them with piles of napkins, more aware of the gray eyes looking down at her, of the big hands held slightly aloft while liquor dripped from their fingertips.  “Oh, my God,” she said again.  “David Peterson?”
    “Hi, Tony,” he said brightly.  “What happened to your hat?”

****
  

 The look of utter bafflement on Tony’s face couldn’t have pleased David more.  With a nod, he took a handful of napkins from Julia.  Julia poked Tony, who took her own supply of napkins and handed over the nearly empty trio of glasses in exchange.
    “I’m so sorry,” Tony repeated.  She separated one of the napkins and began to press it against the lapels of David’s jacket.  David wiped his hands and wished she’d spilled onto his pants.
    “It’s okay,” he said.  “It really is.”
    “But this suit looks expensive.  I hope it doesn’t stain--”  She broke off as David grasped both her wrists in his hands, pulling her away just as she started to delve under the jacket to daub at his shirt.  He just couldn’t take it anymore.
    “I have a really good dry cleaner,” he said.  “Don’t worry about it.”
    She drew her hands back to herself, her forehead creased in an endearing frown.  Looking into his face, she blinked a little, then said, “Send me the bill.”
    “I said it’s okay.  Please don’t make me repeat myself.”  He smiled then, and she smiled back, tentatively almost, as if she hadn’t ever met him.  On a whim, he crooked one damp elbow toward her.  “May I escort you to your seat?”
    A moment passed, then Tony slid her arm through the bend of his elbow.  As she moved into step next to him, he thanked God once again for whatever urge had made him show up today.
    Then he mentally thanked Julia as he caught her broad grin.  He wasn’t certain exactly what she had up her sleeve, but he was willing to go with the flow.
    “Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit, David,” Julia suggested as David tucked Tony’s chair under her.  “I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to lately.”
    “I can’t sit here,” David protested.  “This is the bride’s table.”
    “Oh, please.  It’s my wedding--you’ll sit wherever I tell you to.  Sit your fanny down.”
    David grinned.  He hadn’t seen Julia in quite a long time and he’d forgotten how ebullient she could be.  No wonder she’d been friends with literally everybody in their tiny high school.
    He looked at Tony and decided she didn’t seem too averse to Julia’s suggestion.  Pulling up an empty chair from a neighboring table, he sat down.
    Tony watched him as he settled next to her.  Up close and mobile, he was starting to look more familiar.  She remembered the short, brown hair and gray eyes.  But no glasses obscured those eyes, and where there had been a mass of silver in his mouth, now there was a spectacular set of even white teeth.  He was still tall, but lanky, not gangly.  His mouth, also changed by the absence of braces, curved with undeniable sensuality.  Tony found herself wishing he would smile, and he did, beautifully.
    “You look exactly the way I remember you,” he said.
    “You . . . don’t,” she managed.
    The smile turned to a grin.  “I’ve been getting a lot of that.”
    Julia patted Tony’s shoulder.  “I’m going to go get some new drinks.”
    “Great.  Thanks.”  Then Tony realized that left her alone with David.  She composed herself and turned back toward him.  
    She took a moment to adjust, studying him, trying to make the changed features look right.  In the process, she noticed a wet spot on his white shirt where she’d caught him with her drink.  Next to it hung a brightly-colored tie with little pictures of Dilbert all over it.
    “Nice tie,” she said.
    “Dilbert is the god of all geeks,” he said, then, “I hear you’re living in Lakewood.”
    “I thought we were going to talk about you.”  She smiled a little to take the sting out of the words, at the same time wondering why she found herself uncomfortable enough to snap.
    David shrugged.  “I was just curious.  I haven’t seen you in ages.  And I have an office in Lakewood.”
    An office?  The question begged asking, but Tony didn’t ask it.  She decided instead to satisfy his curiosity first, just to see what he might say.  “I moved down there after the divorce.”
    David had looked down at the table, straightening the napkins, and Tony found herself holding her breath.  Not just in anticipation of what David would say, but also because she was steeling herself for him to look at her again.  She wanted to be prepared this time, to really see him, without having to look through a haze of shock.
    He looked back at her then, and she met his gaze full on, letting the power of it soak into her.  She’d never realized what beautiful eyes he had.  She’d never really gotten a chance to see them through the thick glasses he’d worn through high school.  He didn’t appear to be wearing contacts, either.  
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”  His voice was careful and quiet, his face soft with genuine sympathy.  
    Tony casually waved off the years of wasted life.
    “It happened quite a while ago.  I’m better off without him.”
    David nodded.  “So what are you doing now?”
    Tony straightened, reminding herself she should be proud of her accomplishments, not worried about what anyone might think.  “I’m taking classes at Red Rocks Community College, and I’m working as a temp.  Clerical stuff mostly.”
    Her brain clicked into the defensive, ready for the vague smirk, the condescension.  She got it all the time, from acquaintances, from prospective employees, sometimes even from teachers.
    She didn’t get it from David.  “That’s great!” he said, with genuine enthusiasm.  “What are you taking?”
    “Accounting.”
    “Really?”  He seemed surprised, then disappointed.  “I always thought you’d study art.”
     “There’s no money in an art degree,” she countered, a little too sharply.  “What would I do with it?”
    “We’re always looking for artists.  Of course, computer knowledge is good, too.  Not necessarily programming, but if you can use graphics software, you’re a few steps ahead of the game.”
    Tony sniffed.  “I’m a grown-up, David.  I think I’m capable of deciding what I want to do with my life.”
    She expected an apology, but she didn’t get one.  He just looked at her, and suddenly she felt like he could see right into her.  
    “Do you like the classes you’re taking?” he said.
    Tony shrugged.  “They’re okay.”
    He started to say something else, but just then Julia breezed up, carrying a drink in each hand.
    “Here you are, Tony.  Fresh drink.  You and David getting reacquainted?”
    David looked at Tony, fingering the sweated surface of his glass.  “Yeah.”
    Julia looked from one to the other.  Tony tried to make herself relax.  What did it matter what David thought about her, anyway?
    “Well,” said Julia, as if nothing were amiss, “now it’s time for my interrogation, David.  What have you been up to lately?”
    “Let’s see.  I went to MIT, and I almost got a Ph.D., then a college buddy of mine called me up one day and asked if I’d be interested in helping him out with some game software.  One thing led to another, and now we own our own company.”
    Tony’s eyes widened.  Good grief!  Not only had he grown up handsome, but it sounded like he was rich, as well.  David nudged her gently.
    “Maybe you’ve heard of Tachyon Software?”
    Tony shook her head.  “No, sorry.”
    “Then maybe you’ve heard of Dark Princes.”
    “Oh, yeah!”  Julia chimed in.  “My seven-year-old loves that game.  I bribe him with it to do his homework.”  She shook her head in amazement.  “Your company produced that?”
    “That’s right.  If you read the credits--and I know nobody ever does--my name’s in there a few times.”
    “Wow.  You must have made a mint.”
    David nodded.  “It’s been fairly lucrative.  In fact, we’re working on expanding because of that game’s success.  We’re starting up an educational division.  Plus Dark Princes II will be out May first, and Dark Princes III is under production.”
    They talked on.  Tony tuned them out, her throat gone dry with nerves.  There was no point telling David any more about her life.  He’d been so successful, and she’d turned everything she’d touched to mud.  Absently, she pulled a pen from her little sequined purse and began to sketch on the napkins.
    Dinner arrived eventually.  Fortunately Julia--or maybe it was Jim--had decided to go the contemporary route, so nobody had to eat with their fingers.  
    David and Julia continued to talk, finally enticing Jim to join them in discussing tomorrow’s Avalanche game.  Tony picked at her chicken and made a passable miniature mountain range out of her mashed potatoes.
    When dessert arrived, though, David tried to pull her back into conversation.
    “Good cheesecake, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, it’s good,” Tony agreed briefly.
    David studied her, as if planning his next step.  Tony’s face grew hot under his scrutiny.
    “So,” he said finally, “do you still paint?”
    Tony squashed a small piece of cheesecake with her fork.  “Not really.  I do some sketching, and the occasional watercolor.  And I sew, which doesn’t sound artistic, but it is.”
    David nodded soberly, looking at the scribbled-upon paper napkins piled haphazardly next to her plate.  Tony suppressed an urge to snatch them up and hide them under the table.  
    “It’s nice you haven’t dropped it altogether,” David said.  “I always thought you were really talented.”
    “Thanks,” Tony mumbled.  
    She turned her attention to her cheesecake.  Why was he so interested in her art?  Sure, maybe once she’d dreamed of running off to Paris and painting future masterpieces, but that had been an adolescent fantasy.  There was no room for that kind of silliness in the grown-up world.
    She could feel Julia looking at her again.  Wondering, no doubt, why Tony was being so prickly.  Suddenly she felt like she couldn’t stay at the table for another minute.  She picked up her empty glass.
    “I’ll be right back,” she said.  Only after she’d left the table did she realize it had been terribly rude to go get herself another drink without offering to get anyone else one.
    “Blast him, anyway,” she said to herself, straightening her dress as she crossed to the bar.  “Nobody should be that good-looking.”  Especially not David Peterson.  It just wasn’t fair.  He should still be skinny and ugly, damn him.
    She ordered a Bailey’s Irish Creme from the bartender in hopes it would calm her down.  She needed to get herself under control if she was going to be stuck for the rest of the evening with David.
    When she came back, though, he was gone.  Off to chat with some other acquaintances, Julia told her.  Tony sat down and finished her cheesecake in some semblance of peace.
    “Pretty amazing, huh?” said Julia.  “Who’d’ve dreamed that David Peterson would end up not only good-looking, but filthy rich?”
    “Yeah, and I’m still typing memos.”
    “Is that what’s bothering you?”
    Tony turned to Julia, only then realizing how bitter she’d sounded.  “David owns his own company, Cheryl’s husband works for the governor, you’ve got Jim and three really cute kids, and I’m just a divorced temp with no money and a student loan.”  She pushed her hand through her hair, trying to compose herself.  “Why should that bother me?”
    Julia patted her shoulder reassuringly.  “I think you’re recovering nicely.”  She took a drink, only partially hiding her mischievous smile.  “And I think David still likes you.”
    Tony waved the comment off.  If he did, it was probably just leftover high school infatuation, and Tony had no interest in that.
    The room filled with music.  Tony looked up to see a DJ working the booth in a far corner.  Julia, grinning, turned to her husband.
    “Let’s dance.”  She swept him away, leaving Tony alone at the table.  David had left half his cheesecake, she noticed.  She looked surreptitiously around, then proceeded to eat it.
    When that was gone, she picked up her pen again.  A few minutes later, she realized she’d sketched Rudy.  She tore the napkin into a collection of tiny shreds and dropped them into her leftover coffee.  Then she stole David’s napkin and started drawing again.
    The sketching relaxed her, and she had just about decided to get up and try to mingle when a hand touched her shoulder.  Shock filled her again, though milder this time, as she looked up into David’s much-changed face.
    “Would you like to dance?”
    Tony considered.  There could be no harm in it.  The DJ was playing fast tunes, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of dancing close.  Besides, she needed to have some fun or this whole evening was going to be a disaster.  She stood and let him lead her onto the dance floor.
    Tony really had no clue how to dance properly, but everyone else was just wiggling in rhythm, so she followed suit.  David moved a bit more gracefully.  He had definitely grown into his height.  In high school he’d been a beanpole with legs.  He still had long legs, but the rest of him matched up better.  He was tall, lean and lanky, and filled up his suit pants nicely.  Big feet, too, Tony noticed, then mentally slapped herself when she found herself wondering if big feet really did mean big other things.
    After a moment, David wiggled a little closer.  “My cheesecake disappeared!”  He had to shout over the music.  “Would you know anything about that?”
    “Mice!” Tony shouted back.  “Really big mice!”  She held her hands about three feet apart to demonstrate.
    David grinned.  Tony’s heart bounced in her chest, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of dancing.  The grin made him look about sixteen, but it was a sixteen from an alternate reality where he’d been sinfully cute.  The music faded and he stepped even closer.
    “I think it was a little blonde mouse named Tony.”
    “Well, one of them was kind of light brown, but I didn’t ask its name.”
    In the background, the DJ bantered.  Tony didn’t register what he was saying.  A few more couples joined the group on the dance floor.
    “Not that it matters.  I wasn’t that hungry, anyway.”
    The music started again.  “Unchained Melody,” by the Righteous Brothers.  Tony felt a lurch of panic.  Trust the DJ to pick now to play a love song.  Her brain scrambled for a gracious excuse to bow out.  Before she could draw anything but a blank, David scooped her into his arms.
    
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