Blake stood at the front of the chapel, smiling as he watched Iris walking up the center aisle throwing small fistfuls of red rose petals on the floor. She was almost near the white wooden pulpit when she stopped suddenly and peered into the basket.
“No more roses,” she declared genuinely, waving the empty basket in the air.
Quite determined to do her part well, the little girl bent down and started picking up the petals she had already thrown. Everybody started laughing and Alma came and took Iris in her arms.
“You did extremely well, Miss Iris,” she said, and they both sat on a chair.
Daphne was coming toward him. She smiled at him, nodded, then entered the chapel. Glancing past Daphne, Blake's eyes came to rest on his soon-to-be wife, as she slowly made her way toward him.
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