I WAS SO DISTRACTED and happy that I didn’t even notice the stabbing pains in my feet. But I did feel relieved when Marty and I sat down. Most of us at our table—Marty, myself, Andie, Seth, Jacob, Tom, Stacey Lee—hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I practically vacuumed down the salmon and caviar appetizer. Totally delicious.

“Have you seen the final menu?” Stacey Lee asked, leaning over my shoulder.

After our food-testing session, where our crack team of gourmets hadn’t been able to eliminate a single one of the choices, I had given Stacey Lee total freedom in planning the wedding dinner. Why not? She knew a lot more about party planning than I did, and I had enough other things to worry about. I guessed that with the first course through, I might as well look at the menu.

I picked up the heavy vellum card next to my water glass and read:

As you might imagine, the main-course choices came leaping out at me. “Are you crazy?” I said to Stacey Lee. I showed the menu to Marty, who started laughing.

As if on cue, a waiter placed in front of us the most beautifully composed plates I’d ever seen—an elegant pyramid of pieces of fresh tuna resting on a bed of fingerling potatoes, all of it topped by a cream sauce with shallots and toasted almonds.

“Enjoy,” Stacey Lee said as she returned to her seat.