Page 30 of The Last Road Trip

We carry on with our planning.

The floral catalog is a spiral-bound book Coris pulled from somewhere and brought in a tote bag along with two other catalogs I haven’t asked about. She opens it to a page of oversized arrangements of roses stacked high.

“These,” Coris says. She points at them with her coffee spoon.

“Those are ridiculous,” Maren says.

“No, they’re not. They’re dramatic. Weddings should be dramatic.”

“Mom’s dress should be the drama. Not the flowers. How would anyone eat around those things?”

“The flowers aren’t competing with the dress, they’re accessorizing it.”

I put my finger on the page. “What about something like this?” It’s a picture of a calla lily, captioned with a note about how easily florists can dye the petals compared to other flowers. “We can dye these teal and use red roses.” The proportions are right. The colors are already close to ours.

Coris considers it. “It’s pretty.”

“It won’t block eye contact across the table,” Maren adds.

“Fine,” Coris says. She folds the corner of the page back.

“Good, I’m glad you agree,” I say. I want my children to help provide ideas, but at the end of the day, it’s mine and Kwemby’s wedding, not theirs.

We flip to the next section.

Maren takes my phone and scrolls through the venue photos I’ve saved. She holds it horizontally, zooming in on the garden space I keep returning to. She passes it to Coris without comment.

Coris studies it, tilts the phone. “The light would be good in the afternoon.” She passes it back to me. “What are the other two?”

I pull up the second option, which is a covered patio space attached to a botanical garden. The third is an outdoor amphitheater, which I’m less certain about.

Maren sees the amphitheater one and shakes her head.

“I think the stage would make it awkward.”

“That’s what I thought,” I say.

“The garden,” Coris says, tapping the phone screen where the first venue is still displayed. “It has the right amount of room. Not too formal, not too open.”

I set the phone face-up on the table, the garden photo still showing. “That’s where I keep landing.”

“Then that’s your answer,” Maren says, and she writes something in her notebook.

Coris reaches over and flips back in the catalog to a different page. “What about the arch? We need an arch.”

“I know someone,” Maren says. She pulls her phone out and angles it toward me. “A local carpenter. He built the ceremony arch at my friend Danielle’s wedding in the fall. It was incredible. He does custom pieces.” She pulls up a photo and passes the phone. “This is his arch.”

It’s a wide-frame structure, cedar or something close to it, with clean mitered corners and soft decorative carving. I hand the phone to Coris, who immediately starts asking about dimensions.

“Oh, yes, I quite like that,” I say. Luckily, Kwemby must hear me because he stops at our table.

“Like what, honey?”

I point at the arch and explain what Maren said.

“I like it, too. Are you okay with an outdoor wedding? Unless you wanted an indoor-outdoor setup, where we get married outside and move inside for the reception.”

“No, you’re right. I think this piece would make it an outdoor wedding, and I’m okay with that.”