Mary rang June before she told her mother.
“I'm choosing June,” she said.
“I'm flattered.”
“The month.”
“Less flattered.”
Mary laughed, relieved to be allowed a laugh before the conversation became serious.
“We talked this morning. He hasn't asked me to repeat what Nina said.”
“You're keeping the twentieth?”
“Yes.”
“Did Tessa tell you he'd be all right?”
“No. She said she couldn't know.”
“She's right.”
Mary folded the hotel information along its old crease.
“I know how short a time it's been. I'm not saying he's become a different person in four days.”
“Good.”
“I hate when you say good.”
“I know. I still think you could take longer.”
Mary didn't argue.
“Will you come?”
“Of course I'll come.”
She shut her eyes. “Thank you.”
June asked to see the dress. After they hung up, Mary invited Ruth for tea. Her mother said she could come at six. Adam was already planning to be there, and Mary told him she'd asked Ruth too.
They were still eating when Ruth arrived. Mary had made sandwiches because she didn't want a second complicated meal. Adam took Ruth's coat while Mary cleared a plate from the third chair.
“You've put the shelves up,” Ruth said.
“June and I did.”
Ruth looked at the books and then at the sandwiches. “You should have said you were eating.”
“There's plenty. Sit down.”
Her mother did. Mary handed her a plate and waited until she'd picked something before taking the folder from beneath the table.
“We found a date. The twentieth of June.”
Ruth lowered the sandwich.
“This June?”
“Yes.”
“Mary.”
There it was, her name made into a warning. She glanced at Adam. He had stopped eating too.
“We've talked about it,” Mary said. “I've had time to think this week.”
“One week.”
“I know.”
Ruth opened the folder. She read the name of the hotel, then the date, as though one might change the other.
“It's a lovely place. But you have only just got engaged.”
“Adam's offered to wait,” Mary said. “I want a small wedding, in that room, with you and June and the people we actually spend time with.”
“There are other people who'd expect—”
“No. There are people you might expect me to invite.”
Her mother's face changed. Mary wished she'd said it more gently, but she didn't want the guest list to grow because she regretted her tone.
“I want it small,” she repeated.
Adam reached for a fallen piece of sandwich filling beside her plate and put it on his own. Mary looked at him and began to smile.
“That's mine.”
“You abandoned it.”
“For three seconds.”
He offered it back. She took it with her fingers, and for a moment she forgot she was trying to make a serious case.
Ruth watched them. Then she shut the folder without returning it to Mary.
“I'd like you to have time to know each other,” she said, more quietly.
Mary had waited when Ruth wasn't ready to introduce the man she'd been seeing. Her mother hadn't needed Mary's permission to take a weekend away with him.
“I know you're worried,” she said. “You don't have to pretend not to be. But this is what I want.”
Ruth looked down at the folder. “When would you have to decide?”
“Tomorrow, by five. Nine hundred pounds to keep the date.”
“And the rest?”
Mary told her what the small meal would cost. She and Adam could pay for a modest version. There wasn't room to keep adding things, and she didn't want to empty her savings to have one afternoon.
Ruth put the folder on the table.
“I should have told you more about my life before you came back,” she said.
Mary looked at her. “Do you want to tell me now?”
Her mother glanced at Adam. The plate he was offering stayed between them until she took another sandwich.
“Not tonight. You've got this to think about.”
Mary waited, but Ruth pulled the payment sheet out of the folder and smoothed it beside her plate.
“If it's what you both want,” she said, “I'll help.”
Mary looked at her. “How?”
“Four thousand pounds. Towards the meal and the rooms.”
Adam thanked her. Mary couldn't yet. She had expected an argument about waiting, perhaps an offer for next year, something that would make saying yes mean agreeing to more.
“Not for extra guests,” she said.
“No.”
“Or a different dress.”
“Darling.” Ruth's voice was a little hurt. “I've heard you. It can be small.”
Mary put her hand over her mother's. “Thank you.”
Ruth held on. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am.”
When Ruth left, she took the written payment information with her, promising the contribution for tomorrow. Mary and Adam washed the few plates. He picked up the tea towel while she ran the water, and this time she moved enough to give him room.
“That's a lot of money,” he said.
“Yes.”
He picked up the next plate and dried it.
Later, alone, she sent June the photograph of the dress on its hanger. June asked whether it had pockets. Mary went to check.