EPILOGUE

For All Sweet Valley Fans of Old


They all came, from far and wide, to the Wakefield wedding, people who hadn’t seen each other since high school at least ten years earlier. There were all kinds of whoops of delight, shrieks, hugs, and kisses along with some silent snubs, glares, and outright snaps.

Of course, it was at the Wakefields’ country club, whose rooms were transformed into gardens of orchids, roses, peonies, and long branches of nascent cherry blossoms, all in blush tones with barely a hint of pink. The tables were draped in blanc cassé–colored soft voile with borders of tiny live roses. The cocktail room was done in deep pink and light pink peonies interrupted only by tall, fragrant eucalyptus branches, their silver leaves shimmering in the candlelight.

The procession started with two little flower girls, Todd’s six-year-old cousins, flinging petals to the tune of “Sing” from Sesame Street. They were followed by bridesmaids in soft cream-colored gowns. Elizabeth, the maid of honor, dressed in deep blush and carrying matching flowers, was escorted by Bruce Patman, a last-minute (only this morning) usher addition. Both looked radiant. They walked to a mélange of Beatles’ music. Next the bride’s mother, also in shades of cream highlighted with subtle threads of beige, followed by Todd, the groom, with his father in an electric blue tuxedo and his mother in a matching blue gown. Just a reminder that even in the most perfect wedding, there’s aggravation.

And for the pièce de résistance, Ned Wakefield with his daughter Jessica, the bride, on his arm. She was dressed in a strapless sequined gown. Together they walked to the strains of “All I Ask of You” from The Phantom of the Opera.

Jessica said she’d had enough with “Here Comes the Bride” the last time around.

It was a fun wedding. Not a whole lot different from any Sweet Valley High dance, which, as everyone knows, is not a whole lot different from real life.

Plus ça change, plus ça change pas.