“This is where Larry and I got married.”

“I know.”

I turned toward her.

“You were here?”

“No.”

She walked toward a cabinet.

“But Larry was here the afternoon before.”

I stared at her.

“Why?”

Margaret unlocked the bottom drawer.

“I asked him the same thing.”

She pulled out a thick binder and placed it on a table.

“He sat in that chair for almost an hour.”

She pointed toward a seat beside the arch.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing.”

Margaret smiled.

“He said he was nervous.”

I almost laughed.

“A man who worked around weddings for twenty-eight years was nervous about getting married?”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

She rested her hand on the binder.