I'm this close to walking out of my own wedding. Or rather, the pre-wedding dinner. Don't get me wrong, the food is wonderful. Mrs. Rossini made most of it, with a little help from some of the other women, and Tony. But I can't stand the way she and those women are waiting on the men. They're doing everything but cutting their food up for them! Yes, that's what I'm doing for Jonathan, but he's a toddler.

Her son Joey has his new girlfriend, Theresa, here. (Not the Theresa that Tony used to date.) I've agreed to let her be a bridesmaid. But she's turning my stomach the way she dotes on Joey. It's not cute, it's slavish. And then Mrs. Rossini is everywhere at once, not even sitting down to eat. Even Tony is being waited on by Mrs. Rossini's great-aunt, who's actually my age and has a blonde bouffant and a miniskirt. She's a widow with a nine-year-old son named Al.

When little Sam offers to get food for Al, that's it, I flip out. I storm out, although I don't know this neighborhood and I have no idea where I'm going. Maybe I can catch a cab home. Or I could go into the office and get some work done. I don't want to think beyond that.

At least I'm not in my wedding dress yet. I didn't want Tony to see me in it, and of course I didn't want to spill food on it.

I half hope he'll come after me, although I don't want to discuss it till I calm down. To my surprise, Mother is the one who tails me. She was being doted on by both of Sam's grandfathers, traditional Italian men though they are.

"Cold feet?" she asks, when she meets me at the corner.

Well, literally, yes. I'm in open-toed pumps and it is November. But figuratively, too. "Mother, I just don't think I can do this. I can't marry into Tony's world. It's too old-fashioned."

She shakes her head. "Angela, he's marrying into your world. You'll be living together in Fairfield, as you have been for several weeks. And in any case, while this will always be Tony's old neighborhood, his roots, his life has also been the life of the road, with his team."

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to be a baseball wife either."

"Dear, he told me about those cute little cheers you made up, and how much he loved having you there, rooting him on. All you have to do is be yourself. He already had an Italian Brooklyn wife. Now he wants you."

"Then why isn't he here?"

"Because Jonathan started crying when you ran out and someone had to comfort him."

"Oh, I'm a rotten mother, too!" God, how could I just abandon my child? OK, it was in a room full of people, but still.

"You're a nervous bride. I know what that's like."

"You? But you always said you adored Daddy from the day you met and never had any doubts."

"Robert wasn't my first fiancé."

"WHAT?"

She takes my arm. "I'll tell you that story when you get back from your honeymoon."

I shake my head, but I let her lead me back to the Rossinis' apartment.

Tony greets me at the door. I notice Jonathan is being cuddled by Mrs. Rossini. "You OK, Angie?"

I smile. "I just needed some fresh air."

"Yeah, this is all crazy I know, but thanks for being such a good sport about everything. I mean, this isn't exactly orange blossoms and satin, is it?"
I laugh. "No, but it's closer than usual for me," I whisper.

He laughs and then kisses me.

"Hey, you two, save it for the weddin'!" Theresa says.

"Or the wedding night!" Joey yells.

Tony and I part, blushing and smiling.

I get through the rest of the meal. I remind myself that no one is asking me to be a traditional wife for Tony, not even Tony. Yes, I may have to make some compromises, such as bringing less work home, but he's making and has made some compromises, too. In fact, he's probably had to change more than I have so far.

"OK, Tony," Mrs. Rossini asks, "are you two gonna want any of this to nosh on in Vegas? I've got Tupperware."

"Well, throw a few stuffed artichokes in my suitcase."

"You got it."

Then someone knocks on the door and Mr. Rossini, Joe, answers it.

"Blondes. They've gotta be from the bride's side of the family."

I go over and greet my aunt and cousin. Poor Christy looks intimidated by the noisy, crowded room. That actually makes me feel better, someone more overwhelmed than I am.

Mrs. Rossini of course offers them food, but they just ate.

"I think it's time to get the bride ready," Mother says.

"You can use Old Joe's room. The cat has shed the least fur in there."

"Wonderful," Mother says, rolling her eyes.

I grab the bag my yellow dress is in and let Mrs. Rossini lead the way into the back bedroom. Sam tags along, bragging about how she picked out the dress, like she was there in the dress shop in '66, when she wasn't even a twinkle in Tony's eye then.

At first, it's just the women and girls of my family, Sam included. Then I can hear Rosie's voice, cutting through all those other loud voices. She comes in a moment later, as I'm slipping on the dress.

"Oh my Gawd, Mrs. Bowah, you look bee-u-tiful!" she cries, her accent thickening in this atmosphere.

"Thank you, Rosie." I make introductions.

And then Theresa and Mrs. Rossini come in and soon everyone is jostling to do my hair and make-up. Mother kicks them all out, except Sam, who hands her the items she asks for, like she's a surgery nurse.

"Can I wear lipstick?" Sam asks to our surprise.

"Your father would kill us," I say.

"Well, then, Mrs. Robinson—"

"Mona," Mother says.

"Mona." Sam smiles. "Can you make my hair look more grown-up?"
"I think Tony would be OK with that," I say.

She does a simple upsweep, which Sam adores.

"And how do I look?" Mother asks.

I say, "Perfect, as always."
She grins. "I know but I still like to hear it."

"You are the most beautifulest grandmother I've ever seen."

"Awww, thank you, Sweetie!" Mother gives her a big hug. "And what do you think of the bride?"

"Her dress matches her hair."

I can see Mother is dying to make a "dark roots" joke but, perhaps because it's my wedding day, she resists and says, "Yes, it does."

Someone knocks on the door. Sam peeks out. "Oh, hi, Grandpa."

Luckily, it's Matty rather than Nick. "How's it goin' in here?"

"See for yourself," Mother says.
"Wow, the three prettiest girls are all in here!"

We all smile at him. Then he comes closer to me and says, "I never had a daughter but I'm very glad I'm getting you for a daughter-in-law."

It feels strange because everyone in the room but Sam knows that I'm already Matty's daughter-in-law. Yet, this fourth and final wedding does feel more official than all the moments when I may or may not have become Tony's wife. This time it's something we're freely, consciously choosing, with our friends and family gathered to witness us.
"How's the crowd out there?" Mother asks. "Restless?"

"To be honest, they're going back and forth between watching the game and the parade."

"Oh, good, no pressure," I say dryly.

Then I hear the wedding march, on accordion! I guess the best man is doing double duty.

"Ready?" Matty asks and I nod.

Mother kisses me on the cheek and then I kiss Sam on the cheek. They leave the room, hand in hand. Then Matty offers me his arm.

He muscles his way through the crowded apartment. I haven't seen anything like this since Woodstock. (Yes, I went, but there was too much mud, so I went back to the hotel and did homework for my summer classes.) I spot Wendy and Herb, Isabel and Ben, Dr. and Mrs. Ferguson, but it's mostly Brooklyn people, most of whom I don't know by sight. I'll have to ask Tony later who they all are.

Rosie almost blinds me with the flash of her Polaroid Instamatic. Sam and Marci are throwing petals in people's faces. Poor little Jonathan is crying, but he's not the only one.

"It's the most beautiful wedding I ever saw!" Mrs. Rossini sobs. And she's right.

The dining table has been stowed somewhere and I can just catch sight of Father Marconi in the dining room, Tony and Bobby in front of him. Bobby is still wearing the accordion. Tony is incredibly handsome in his tux and, yes, I'm trying not to remember helping him take it off in Charleston. But at the same time, I'm letting myself imagine a little it coming off tonight in Vegas.

Matty gets me over to his son and beams at us both. Then he finds a seat, pulling Sam into his lap. My new family.

Then I search for Jonathan, who's still crying.

"Mommy!"

Everyone laughs. I go to Jonathan, whom my Aunt Barbara is trying to soothe, and scoop him up in my arms. I don't have to ask if Tony minds. When I return to my groom, he reaches out and ruffles Jonathan's carefully combed hair.

So I recite my vows holding my son. Tony's eyes are filled with love for us both when he promises "in sickness and in health" and all the rest. I'm so distracted, I can't even tell if Father Marconi has modified the ceremony for the Protestant bride. The crowd isn't complaining.

Tony got me a lovely golden band, plain yet elegant. I don't know when he had time to pick it out. We'd agreed on a single-ring ceremony, to keep it simple, but to be honest I don't know when I would've been able to make it to the jeweler's.

When it's time for the kiss, Mother comes up and carries Jonathan away. She and Wendy and of course all of Tony's friends egg us on. I don't have a veil, but Tony gently pushes my wavy hair back from my ears and cups my face. I know there are dozens of people here, some out on the fire escape, but all I can think of for a very long moment is the touch of Tony's hands, the taste of his full lips. Then everyone applauds us, and I'm reminded of where I am.

His friend Dennis is the one to catch the garter belt (borrowed from Mother of course). Poor Christy gets the bouquet. (I think she's had only one date in her life.)

And then somehow we make our way outside, just me, Tony, Matty, Mother, Sam, and Jonathan. It's snowing lightly now and it's hard to distinguish the flurries from the rice people are tossing out of windows. We run for the van.

Matty says, "We've got to get you two to the airport before this gets too heavy."

"Right," Mother says. "Come on, Kids, get in."

Jonathan can't make it into the van unaided, so I carry him in and hold him in my lap. Matty and Sam sit in back, while Tony, Mother, Jonathan, and I crowd into the front seat. It takes half an hour to get to the airport, which isn't bad in this weather.

"Should I try to find parking?" Tony asks.

"You two better get out here. You don't want to miss your plane," his father says.

"Can I have the window seat?" Sam asks.

"Me, too!" Jonathan says, although of course he has no idea what she's talking about.

"Sweetheart, I thought you understood. This trip is just for me and Angela."

"Mommy and Tony will be back in a couple days, Darling. I promise!" I hope Jonathan doesn't start crying again.

Then the kids laugh heartily, I think Jonathan because Sam is.

I glare at Mother, because I know instinctively she put them up to this.

Nonetheless, I hug her goodbye as well as the others. We all get out of the van to hug more easily. I expect Mother to tease me and Tony, but she's already had her fun.

"Be good. All of you," Tony says.

Matty will look after the children in Brooklyn, with help from Mrs. Rossini. Mother will presumably return to Fairfield, although I suspect she may have too much fun in Brooklyn to go home right away. Well, she's not my problem for the next few days.

I wish they could see us off at the gate, but this is hard enough. Then Tony takes my hand and we run inside, our luggage in our free hands.

As we stand on line for the baggage check-in, I have a horrible moment of imagining our plane crashing, and then an even worse one of the van in an accident that will kill our parents and children. But then I look into Tony's warm brown eyes and I know that everything will be OK.

"Ready for your honeymoon, Mrs. Micelli?"

"Well, let's wait till we get to Vegas, Mr. Micelli."

He chuckles and kisses me. And I don't care who's watching.