Bride & Groom

sort of portable shelter for people who don’t want to bother with a tent. It has just enough room for you and your sleeping bag, and it covers your head in case of rain.”
    Gabrielle was aghast. “But why aren’t you taking a cabin?”
    “There’s only one,” Twila informed her. “There’s the big cabin. I’d rather be outside, anyway.”
    “One cabin?”
    Unaware of the effect her revelation was creating, Twila added, “There are enough bunks for everyone, and after a day of hard work, you won’t have any trouble falling asleep. The day starts pretty early. You’ll need to begin getting the dogs ready at five for the morning run, so you’ll want to be up by four-thirty or so. It’s beautiful out then, and the dogs are all excited. It’s great. You’ll love it.”
    “Four-thirty.” Gabrielle sounded dazed.
    Twila laughed. “You can get up earlier. It depends on whether you want a big breakfast before the run.”
    “Oh, that’s all taken care of,” Gabrielle said. “Buck tells me that the food is delicious.”
    Twila laughed again. “Some people always like to cook communally, but you don’t have to. There’ll be a refrigerator in the cabin, so you can keep your own food there if you want. But you might want to just grab breakfast before or right after you hook up the dogs.”
    A gleam of comprehension sparkled in Gabrielle’s eyes. “And the bathrooms?” Her throaty voice was strong and curious.
    “I haven’t been to this site before,” Twila said, “but apparently there are a few. And the outhouse is supposed to be close to the cabin.”
    “Outhouse,” Gabrielle repeated.
    The sled dog having been let out of the bivy sack, so to speak, I said, “Gabrielle, it’s possible that camp won’t be exactly the way Buck has described it.” Feeling guilty, I added, “But Ginny Wilson is supposed to be a wonderful instructor. The very best. And you’ll like all the people there.” That part was absolutely accurate. Gabrielle always liked everyone everywhere.
    “Ginny is the best,” Twila said. “How many dogs are you taking?”
    “One,” Gabrielle replied. “Molly. My bichon.”
    Twila naturally assumed that she was kidding.
    “And Holly’s malamutes. Rowdy and Kimi. And my husband’s golden, Mandy.”
    I said, “Mandy will do anything.”
    “Molly,” Gabrielle said softly to me, “will not do just anything. She can be quite fussy. As can I, of course. As can I.” My father chose that moment to show up with the pot of clams. Gabrielle waited until Buck had served seconds or thirds to those who wanted more clams. Then, in a dangerously sweet voice, she said, “Buck, I need a quiet word with you.”
    “Any time!” he roared. “Any time except right now. More clams?”
    “No. No, thank you.”
    “Now, Gabrielle, this is no time to go off your food.”
    “I am not off my food. But speaking of food, perhaps you might tell Twila about the sumptuous breakfasts served at mushing camp. Someone has apparently misrepresented the nature of the camp to her, and I am counting on you to enlighten her. At this very moment.”
    I sprang to my feet, grabbed my glass, raised it, and said, “A toast! To my father and my beloved stepmother! Thank you for the lobster and clams! Thank you for everything!”
    In groups of dogs, behavior is contagious. If one dog leaps up and starts running around in figure eights, other dogs are likely to do the same.
    The next dog was Pete, Steve’s best man, who proposed a toast to Steve and me. Leah raised her glass to Rita. Steve and I drank to the joining of our canine families. Gabrielle had no opportunity to have a quiet word with my father, who saluted her. The uncles rose and wished health and happiness to the lucky couple. My father again stood up and had us drink to Sammy the pup for having brought Steve and me together. As Rita was lifting her glass and opening her mouth, Jennifer Pasquarelli’s cell phone rang. Jennifer dashed from her table and headed to a far corner of the little yard. Rita, ignoring the interruption, made a long and touching speech about her friendship with Steve and me. When she finished, everyone drank in our honor, and Jennifer finally returned to the group. She did not propose a toast. Rather, she whispered quietly in Kevin’s ear. His jovial expression vanished. I felt sorry for him. On his own, he’d never have ruined the happy mood. Jennifer, however, was making a silent fuss. Everyone, of course, responded