A Few Days for a Wedding Chapter 1
"I'll never get married." Sara was standing on a small raised platform while one woman marked the hem of her dress and another stuck pins somewhere along her back.
"Yes you will." Paula was turning circles in front of a big three way mirror. Her dress fit perfectly. The others had left; their dresses fit, leaving Sara and Paula for final fittings.
"No I won't." She grunted as the dress was pulled tightly around her waist.
Paula had turned and twisted and bent over, stretched her arms over her head, reminding Sara of old women in a park doing morning exercises. "I think it's perfect, don't you?"
Sara agreed. "You look beautiful." Actually, Paula looked like a giant marshmallow, but as a bridesmaid, Sara knew her duties—agree with the bride. At least the dress she was wearing was dark blue and simple. She wiggled, saying "I want to breathe. Does it have to be so tight?"
The woman working with the pins came around to face her. "If you would wear one of the undergarments with padding, we would not have to sew it so tight."
Sara's sigh caused the dress to slip. She gave up. "Give me the corset."
A few minutes later, she had the one piece undergarment thing on giving her just enough padding to fill out the top of the dress and push her own breasts up. Paula started giggling as only she could do.
"Whoa! That should give your old bug man something to look at during the wedding!" Paula always referred to Grissom as the bug man. Sara tugged at the top of the dress. The three women before her had smiles on their faces. She returned their smile. She waited for the dress to be finished and Paula delivered her and the dress to their apartment.
In the past two weeks, the two roommates had moved Paula into her new apartment, the one she would share with her husband, run around like crazy people doing last minute wedding preparations, painted the living room-kitchen of the old apartment, and continued to work—or at least show up at work. The wedding was in five days. Paula was staying with her parents until the wedding.
For the first time in her life, Sara had a place of her own. As they moved Paula's things out, Sara had begun to make the rooms her own. She had purchased new sheets and smoothed them on the bed and moved furniture around. She had cleaned everything and every surface. She asked Grissom to stay at her place; he had never been inside and it was certainly different from his bright, white, sparse but expensive townhouse. The only furniture she had ever purchased was a small wooden desk. Everything else was what she called "passed around"—what no one wanted or had room for or found on the side of the street.
Stretching across the bed, she picked up a book—one she had found in a second hand bookstore—Shakespeare. Grissom's letter and poem had sent her on a search. She had almost dosed when a beep from her phone signaled a call.
Her boss, "Sara, come in early! You got another missing list. Looks like several possibilities. And a package is coming." He had continued with his support for her search on finding an identity for the skull from the vineyard. She has accumulated stacks of missing person's reports; he had sent out request after request for information, asking for files, calling family members, using his position to quietly assist her.
She slept a few hours and still made it to work several hours before her shift started. She closeted herself in the tiny cubicle and went to work on the list, immediately crossing all men and women older than fifty off the new list. Within an hour, Grissom called.
He asked about her dress fitting, assuring her again that he would be there. They talked about the skull, the new list of missing, and he had a name of an anthropologist who was recreating faces. She would be willing to take the skull.
"Do you think she could put a face on this one?" Sara asked. "How long would it take?"
"We can ask. I'll talk to her before I come."
They both had assignments and crime scenes to work.