The Marriage Of Jeannette Comments

That was some wedding up in Tahoe. Remember the church stuffed with brooding icons, the moon bluing the mountains? At the reception, my ashtray leaked almonds. Gifts wrapped in silver and gold. A widow sent them a conch shell packed in Styrofoam peanuts—when the Best Man blew it, a C note flew out.

Jeannette? A crucified goddess. A femme fatale fallen. But you’d never know it the way that she waltzed. Everyone played along in the Grand Teton Ballroom. Remember the sea of green balloons? The hors d’oeuvres featured real crab meat.
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