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Holly H. put her best foot forward on a red carpet so lush and springy it felt buoyant under heel and toe. Zac mirrored her move, the twin connection functioning best under stress. Stress? A couple hundred Beautiful People, Important People, Powerful People and a sprinkling of just plain people staring at them? Huh. Holly H. put an extra swagger in her step, knowing the impact she and Zac made. Bookend blondes, taller than most, with an attitude in part inherited from wild Celtic ancestors and part the result of a Pandora's Edge upbringing with a good dose of natural talent. Maybe there was something to the myth of red equaling speed. In her ruby red dress and the matching boots on that scarlet saturated carpet, it seemed that the mile-long march lasted seconds. Individual faces blurred, but Holly H. clocked the emotional Mexican Wave of stupefied blankness to bewildered to suspicion to shock to anger. She also noticed the red colour scheme catching on in flushing cheeks, mottling skin, and the parting of tinted lips. Holly H. reached the end of the carpet and pivoted. Beneath an expression of dangerous boredom her blood was fizzing again. Still the silence, but this was more of a waiting for somebody, anybody, to take charge. Zac did. "Slight change in proceedings," he announced, calmly surveying the assembly. An excellent acoustic design carried his voice, cool and easy and with a hint of a drawl, to every corner. "Michael Renwood and Antonia dal Vantis have preempted you all and were married by Archbishop Grace Angelina this morning at nine o'clock." "They've since departed on their honeymoon," Holly H. picked up smoothly. "So let's move on to the reception, and cut the cake." "Wait a minute." A less flabbergasted Senator of Something Vital to Civilisation found his vocal chords and his feet. "Damn." Holly H. snapped her fingers. "You're right, I did forget something. Devon, sweetie, could you hand that disk over to the broadcast people and have them flash the pictures up on the big screen?" "That wasn't --" "You don't want to see the wedding photos?" Zac asked. "Everybody loves wedding photos, especially when the principals are happy," Holly H. said pointedly. "Happiness is immaterial," the suit snapped. "Excuse me?" Holly H. stared him down. "Wipe the dollar signs from your eyes and look at that," Zac instructed, disgust evident in his voice. He indicated the large screen where a laughing Antonia with Michael's arm wrapped round her chinked glasses with Archbishop Grace. "That's a Public Relations dream." The next picture flashed up. A serious Michael sliding the ring onto Antonia's finger. Holly H. whispered a quick thank-you that the ring wasn't in focus. Well, she'd done the best she could in the time available. The pictures came in quick succession now. The kiss . . . Signing the massive leather-bound tome under Archbishop Grace's benevolent eye . . . Opening that first bottle . . . Michael and Antonia toasting each other against a backdrop of delphiniums and gardenias . . . The bleary-eyed music academy kids Holly H. had nabbed coming out of an all night coffee bar who'd remembered, after prodding from Zac, how to play a lyrical romantic melody . . . Antonia coming out of the bedroom in the honey-tinted cream suit Zac had chosen for her . . . Michael and Antonia holding hands and grinning . . . A close up of the scroll, with all the blank spaces for signatures filled in . . . The pictures cycled though again before coming to rest on Holly H.'s personal favourite - Antonia and Michael completely oblivious of their audience as they did the gazing into each other's eyes thing. Twitching hankies and ohhs from the crowd in the cathedral echoed her opinion. Mrs. Something Vital to Civilisation yanked the Senator down into his seat. Zac turned to Holly H.. "I don't think they'll forget us in a hurry, do you?" "Unlikely." Holly H. suppressed a yawn. "'It's equally as unlikely that this will become the recommended cure for bridal jitters." Zac draped his arm over Holly H.'s shoulders. "Guess they haven't heard the one about all being fair in love and war." * * * THE END * * *
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