Photographers
“What in the world?” Meg asked, looking to Charlie for some answers.
He opened his mouth as if he might explain, but just then there was the loud clank of metal on glass, and they both jumped. The Master of Ceremonies, a gentleman Meg had met earlier by the name of Mr. Hill, was calling for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have Mr. Ashton’s immediate family and Miss Westmoreland to the library, please, the photographers have assembled there. The rest of you, please make your way outside to the garden, and we shall join you shortly.”
While in theory it seemed a good idea to have the guests begin to make their way outside as the family prepared to be photographed, doing so caused Meg and Charlie to have to cross through a throng of people who were crowding through the exit. Most people were willing to let them pass if they were paying attention, but it seemed Stella wasn’t the only one who may have had too much to drink, and Charlie kept Meg close behind him as he threaded his way through, an attempt to keep her from colliding with anyone or having a drink spilled upon her new dress. Eventually, they arrived in the library.
There were several photographers assembled here, their cameras set up pointing at the fireplace. Meg immediately felt her stomach tighten. She’d been under the impression it would be one photographer from one newspaper. Once Grace entered the room, she explained, “I could hardly show favoritism to one paper over the others.”
Meg disagreed, but she said nothing. Mr. Hill situated the family just how he wanted them, with Charlie and Meg in the middle, his parents on his left side, his sister and Peter on Meg’s right. She refused to note the fact that she had absolutely no family in the world she’d want to be in the photograph even if they’d been on the same continent, and she forced herself to smile her best fake smile for the camera, thinking of Charlie and nothing else in order to muster as much happiness as she could.
A barrage of flashing lights began to go off, and the photographers shouted at them to stay still, and then to move closer together, or further apart, and Meg did her best not to lose herself in the flashing lights, her head growing dizzy with each explosion from the flashes, the smoke burning her nose. After what seemed like forever, Mr. Hill shouted, “All right then. Last one!” Most of the photographers complied, and as they took their last shots, the older gentleman ushered them from the room, and Meg hoped, from the building. A few shouted questions at them as they went, but neither she nor Charlie answered.
“Well, that was certainly an experience,” Mr. Ashton joked, rubbing his eyes.
“I do think it would’ve been better if we’d had it in the daytime,” Grace mused, “so that they didn’t need to use those terrible flashbulbs.”
“I concur,” Pamela agreed. She was wearing a lovely gown only a shade or two darker than Meg’s and Meg couldn’t help but hope she would look just as pretty when she was Pamela’s age.
“Shall we head out back then and get on with it?” Charlie asked, absently checking the pocket inside of his jacket.
“Yes, let’s do,” Grace agreed, and since she still seemed to be the one in charge of this affair, they began to follow her out, Mr. Hill leading the way.
Meg had Charlie’s arm, and she slowed so that everyone else went around them. Leaning in so that only he could hear, she teased, “If that rock in your pocket is even half as large as the one on Stella’s finger, I’d think you needn’t check to see if it’s still there. You’d feel it thumping against your chest with each step.”
He chuckled. “I know that it’s still there; I just can’t help but make sure from time to time. You know, I’ve been thinking about this moment for more years than I can count, and never in my wildest dreams did I think there’d be a hundred and fifty people staring at me when I gave you this ring.”
She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. “I knew it,” she said, making him raise his eyebrows. “I knew there were more than a hundred people here.”
He began to laugh so hard she had to stop, though she was surprised no one in front of them seemed to notice. “This is precisely why I love you so much, Meg. I never know what you’re going to say, but I always know it will be perfect.”
Realizing no one else was paying them any attention at all, Meg turned to face him. “Charlie, you’ve already asked me to marry you, and I’ve already said yes. This is just a formality.”
“Yes, I know, but this is my grandmother’s ring. She gave it to me specifically to give to you before she passed away.”
Meg felt her heart flutter. “She did? For me?”
“Yes, of course. She knew I’d marry you one day. She wanted you to have it.”
“No wonder your sister hates me,” she muttered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, giving her a crooked grin. “There are lots of reasons why my sister hates you.”
She punched him in the arm, harder than she would’ve dared a week ago for fear he’d fall over.
“Listen, all of this will be fake, a production for my family’s friends and business associates, but I want to give you this ring in private afterwards. I want to ask you to marry me properly without everyone staring.”
Looking into his eyes, Meg could see how sincerely he meant those words. “Then do it now,” she said, glancing before them to see his family had reached the hall that led to the back. There was no one around.
Charlie raised his eyebrows for only a second, as if he wasn’t sure. But then, dropping to one knee, more carefully than Meg would’ve originally envisioned, he pulled a box out of his pocket. “Meg, I didn’t believe in fate or chance before I met you in person. But with everything we’ve been through, with all the coincidences and chances we’ve encountered, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life than the fact that you and I are meant to be together. Mary Margaret—Meg--will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks as Meg nodded and said, “Yes.” He slipped the ring on her finger, and with Meg’s help, stood to catch her lips with his.
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