The Big Day (Encore)

Kathryn Nicolai (0:01)

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Kathryn Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. Now, the stories I've been telling you for the last several weeks lead up to this one, to The Big Day. And if that feels a bit too exciting for you, put this aside to listen to on a walk. I've actually got a classic snooze-guaranteed episode waiting for you in your queue right now, if you need it. It's called Fall foraging and nobody gets married in it, so it will knock you out. And this is five years of experience talking, but I have a pretty strong feeling that even if you are excited to come to the wedding tonight, I'm still going to make you fall asleep. I bet most of you will need weeks of listening to hear this whole story. So choose your sleepy adventure and let's get comfortable. This story is twice as long as most others, but as always, I'll read it twice and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake again in the night, don't hesitate to turn it right back on, and you'll fall right back to sleep. Our story tonight is called The Big Day, and it's a story about a ceremony held beside the lake on a soft September day. It's also about piano music drifting through the air, champagne corks popping, catching a hold of moments as they pass, both big and small, and the whole village of Nothing much coming together to celebrate love.

Now, lights out, my dears. Get your pillows in the right spot, your body as comfortable as it can be, I'm going to take you somewhere soft and sweet and enjoyable. And hear me when I say this. You deserve that. To enjoy, to relax, to feel safe. Let's take a deep breath in through the nose and sigh through the mouth.

One more, breathe in and out.

The Big Day Just as I was arranging the flowers on the back porch, the clouds cleared and a bright blue sky emerged. I'd had one eye on the weather all day, though I'd had it on good authority, that it would be clear, unbeautiful. And now it was. A perfect early fall day, not too hot, thank goodness, for a wedding. I'd seen guests before, sweltering in their finery, attempting to gently fan themselves with wedding programs in the midsummer sticky air, while muttering under their breath about why anyone would get married during the dog days.

I smiled to myself as I finished fussing with the already perfect flowers and stepped back into the inn, thinking of the dog days for a wedding, because although we weren't celebrating in the heat of the summer, there were more than a couple dogs involved in today's festivities. I thought, in fact, that I had better go check on everyone and see how things were proceeding. We were minutes from our first guests arriving. I took off my apron and hung it in the butler's pantry, before hurrying down the long hall and to the grand staircase in the entryway.

As I went, I found myself checking each space I passed through, that everything was tidy and polished, yet inviting.

I could smell the good wood polish, and proudly noted how brightly the windows shone after they'd been washed. Up the stairs, and down a long hallway, I went, till I came to the door behind which the groom and his friends were getting ready. Nervous, excited energy was seeping out from under the door. I tapped quietly and heard a call to enter. Oh, you look fantastic, I said to the three of them. They wore matching bow ties and stood tall for inspection. I went down the line, carefully adjusting the pocket square in the groom's jacket, plucking a bit of fluff off his best man's shoulder, and squatting down in front of Birdie, the greyhound, to straighten his tie.

You have your best man, I said, pointing to the groom's friend. And I looked down at Bird. Best hound, said the groom happily. I smiled, and pointed to a bell hung with a wire attached to its clapper above the door. I'll ring when it's time to come down, okay? Should just be a few minutes. There was speechless nodding. I said, It's all going to go perfectly. And even if it doesn't, as long as you end up married by the end of the day, we'll have done it. They cracked a smile, and Bird yawned, and I left them to their pacing. From there, I passed by the ballroom, where we'd be dancing and lifting champagne glasses in an hour or so, and had to come back for one more quick look around. The room was grand, draped with flowers woven into garlands. The stage set up for a four-piece jazz band, and the corners and window seats heaped with stacked pumpkins. It looked like a fairy tale, which was just what we'd hoped for. I allowed myself one quick twirl, and then ducked out, and took the stairs again, this time up to the third floor, down an opposite corridor, and to another door. I tapped again, was back in din, and found the bride, a friend, two cats, and another dog. Again I said, oh, you look fantastic. And again I meant it. Dressed prettily, they were ready, the humans and the animals. I know he has a best hound, so you have? And let my voice rise in a question. The bride, seated at a vanity, smiled at me through the mirror, and said, a marmalade of honor. Her orange cat sat licking her paw on the bed beside a snagged and ruined veil, which had apparently been meant to be part of the cat's outfit, but had been roundly rejected. Crum, the scruffy brown dog, had a bow tie matching birdies and sat proudly at my feet, ready to be patted and complimented. Beside marmalade on the bed was another kitty, gray with bright yellow eyes. She lay peacefully on her mom's lap, getting her ears rubbed. This was Cinder, and her mother, a good friend of the bride, had her long hair braided with ribbons, and hanging elegantly down her back.