Reagan Summerside Talks Weddings

Hi Reagan Summerside here to talk weddings. The good, the bad and the deadly

You know that old saying, always the bridesmaid never the bride, well I’ve been both. The bride part didn’t take proven by the fact that I caught Hollis, my husband and the hound of Savannah, doing the horizontal hula with Cupcake right there in his office. That was some staff meeting, all right.

The last wedding I attended I came to deliver a bowtie to the groom as he misplaced his. The good part of that wedding was the cake was delicious. The deadly part was that the groom wound up dead in five tiers of icing and fondant, the ugly part was that my BFF, Chantilly, the groom’s ex got accused of the murder.

Round tables decked out in peach-tone wedding linens with white flower arrangements of roses and forget-me-nots dotted the room and Doreen-the-wedding-planner lay crumbled in a heap on the floor.

“Oh dear Lord!” I starting for Doreen but stopped in my tracks because Simon was there too. He was face down in his very own five-tiered wedding cake with a silver cake knife sticking out of his back.

Chantilly shouldn’t have been at the wedding in the first place of course but she and her UPS truck just sort of wound up there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said to Chantilly as she swiveled round in the driver’s seat of her UPS van. White icing and cake crumbs smeared her lips and a glob of raspberry filling dripped down her chin. A pink butter cream rose stuck to the front of her brown uniform blouse. “Dear God in heaven! You went and ate the wedding cake!”

“One slice,” she mumbled around a mouthful. “Who’s going to miss one little old slice? The freaking thing is five tiers high. It took three Cakery Bakery employees and the owner Delta Longford herself to lug it in. They even made GracieAnn Harlow stand on a ladder to get the bride and groom thing on top.”

Chantilly held up a chunk of mangled pastry. “This here should be my wedding cake, except for the pink roses. This should be my wedding day, my wedding colors of creamy-peach and blue-morning-rain. Simon is my man. We were engaged! How could he marry someone else!” Chantilly wailed, a tear sliding down her cheek and cutting a path across a white icing smear.

Hopefully none of the weddings you’ve attended were like this one with the groom dead as Lincoln right there in his own cake.

What do you think is the best part of a wedding? The cake? The first dance? The saying I Do? What are your favorite wedding colors? Favorite locations…destination weddings, church weddings, garden weddings?

Let me know and I’ll give away two Killer in Crinoline tote bags from the answers.

Hugs, Reagan