Incandescent by Madeline Sloane

her
photographer’s slang had on most people. “Shooting, as in taking
photos of the bride and groom.”
    Aaron relaxed. “Well, that’s a relief. When
do you have to leave?”
    Anna passed him in the hall, entering her
living room where she plucked a white cotton shirt from the hook on
the wall. She slid it over her pink tanktop and buttoned it while
looking at him. “I can give you five minutes,” she said as she
tucked the shirt into the waistband of her black skirt. She stepped
into a pair of sandals and bent to slip the strap around her
heel.
    Her movements were quick and methodical, and
hypnotized Aaron who stared at her bare legs as she smoothed
creases from her skirt. Efficient and tidy, she was ready to go.
She put her hands on her hips. “Well? What did you want to ask
me?”
    “It’s going to take more than five minutes,”
he said. “When will you be free? And where is Gretchen?”
    Anna lifted a shoulder. “Gretchen is at
Mark’s. I don’t know when she’ll be back. I don’t know when I’ll be
back, either. Weddings and receptions can go on and on. Since this
is how I make a living, I’m not going to cut it short. I’m paid a
base fee and by the photo, not the hour. If I want a lot of good
photos, I have to stick around.”
    She opened the hall closet, pulled out her
camera bag and hefted a tripod. “I’ll see you later.” She brushed
past him, heading for the living room where she picked up a second
camera bag, this one heavier than the first.
    Aaron offered her a hand. “Why don’t I go
with you?” he suggested. “I’ll carry your bags.”
    She laughed, the sound light and cheerful.
“What, now you want to be my gopher? Besides, you’re not dressed
for a wedding. Either come formal as a guest or indiscreet as a
worker.”
    “Who’s getting married?” he asked, quirking a
brow.
    “Nobody you know,” she retorted.
    “Well, why don’t we swing by my motel and
I’ll change my shirt?”
    Anna shook her head. “No can do. Don’t want
to be late.”
    “If you can give me five minutes to talk, you
can give me five minutes to change,” he challenged.
    Anna studied his determined face. He was
buoyant and upbeat, not the morose and moody man from the night
before. “What’s come over you?” she asked, suspicion tempering her
voice. “You’re not grouchy this morning.”
    “Deal with it,” he quipped, taking the heavy
bag from her and opening the front door. “Let’s take my truck.”
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Twenty
     
    Anna loved photographing weddings at the old
Presbyterian church, with its towering steeple and Gothic-revival
architecture. Sunbeams filtered through the gorgeous Tiffany
stained glass and lit the nave in jewel tones. The beautiful bride
and her handsome groom posed and smiled for photos singly and with
their attendants after the ceremony, while the guests trooped
across the street for the reception at the Wainwright House, an
elegant restaurant in a large Victorian house.
    True to his word, Aaron served as Anna’s
assistant, servile in his plain white button-down shirt and black
pants. He carried bags, handed her lenses and filters when asked,
and set the tripod where she needed it. She also captured video of
the ceremony and would use it to make a short film for the newly
married couple.
    The afternoon meal waned and soon the waiters
brought out the champagne fountain. The DJ played up-beat music and
people of all ages crowded the parquet dance floor. Anna worked
steadily, taking photos of the guests and the wedding party.
Occasionally, she paused long enough to wolf down the appetizers,
small glasses of wine and a piece of wedding cake Aaron handed her
throughout the reception. After several hours, guests peeled off
and the room emptied. Exhausted, Anna sat at a back table and
checked the batteries in her various cameras. As she packed away
the equipment, the bride approached.
    Radiant in white tulle, the bride hugged
Anna. “Thank you so much! I