Brady has always had a strong, positive opinion on the wares from Jos. A. Bank. Their deals are truly unbeatable. Who can afford to run a, “Buy 1, Get 3 Free” suit sale and stay in business? Somehow, they are able to, as witnessed by the small fact that they recently merged in a partnership of equals with Men’s Wearhouse. A good move for both, I would think. Brady is frugal, and decided on only three shirts that day. Besides his muscle shirts and polo shirts, I have never seen Brady wear a shirt that buttons up the front with short sleeves. It is simply not his style…and I do have to say confidently, his style is impeccable when it comes to taste in clothing.

Brady also wanted to frolic in M. Dumas & Company; just to look. He someday dreams of owning a single Canali suit, but who pays $3000 for suit and walks away without buyer’s remorse. I certainly couldn't do it. Now a bag from Coach may be different, but it would have to be a gift and not a purchase.  There was plenty to like in M. Dumas, except the price. They had all the styles and brands that you find in Macy’s on 5^th.

We browsed a few more stores and I bought a few more items to include a sundress that was forty percent off at Ann Taylor Loft. Brady was also nice enough to allow me the option of upgrading my undergarments as well at his and my new favorite, Victoria Secret. He had always purchased these things for his girlfriends at that particular store.

Brady introduced me to a new type of dinner at a local seafood restaurant. Having had some not-so-good and certainly not-so-sophisticated relationships in the past, all of this was new to me. Brady treated me like a Queen, and was able to share with me the finer things in life. He ordered some Sweet Teas and Low-Country Boil for dinner. The price was attractive at $29.99, and boy was that some fine eating. Dungeness and Alaskan Crab Legs, Shrimp, Corn on the Cob, Muscles, Lobster with butter, mushroom, potatoes, and everything seafood except the kitchen sink. You simply lay out a brown paper cloth, dump the pot, and go to town. I was simply amazed at how all the flavors came together by boiling the ingredients in one singular pot.

 After dinner, a rickshaw ushered us back to the hotel and we again visited the lobby bar for a nitecap. To our surprise, there was a sign or poster door hanger on our hotel door handle in the shape of a wine bottle which offered us free wine bottle service for the evening. Brady was quick to take advantage of this kind offer and we enjoyed a Tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain. The wine showed tastes of Mulberry, Black Cherry and had a Smoky nose and finish to include white pepper. To date, it is my favorite red.

Sunday morning was a sad day. We had so much enjoyed our weekend that I did not want to make the trip back to Roanoke and leave Brady. After enjoying a cupcake at “Cupcake down South”, it was time to hit the road; as we would have to actually go back to work on Monday. Brady decided we would take the scenic route, and we traversed the Blue Ridge Parkway instead of the more direct interstate route. While it added time to the drive, we were certainly happy with the choice.

My thirties was perhaps the best decade of my life. And at this juncture, I think it appropriate to ship to the best part. Are you ready? Ready or not, here it comes.

Unbeknownst to me, Brady mad a trip to my mother and father’s house in Fincastle just a few short weeks after our trip to Charleston, South Carolina. Like a true Southern gentleman, he had gone to ask my father and mother for my hand in marriage. Mom was ecstatic and wanted to call me and confidently tell me that a surprise was waiting in the wings, but Dad has made her promise to hold her tongue.

It was July and it had been a brutal summer. Temperatures were nearly topping 100 degrees on a daily basis. Dad was getting tiresome from keeping up the farm and bailing hay to take to horse sales in nearby Lexington, Virginia; horse country. Even in the dead of nite, temperatures never made it below 76 degrees that hot July summer. Brady devised a master plan to propose. There was a summer blue jean ball which supported a local food bank charity. I had never gone, and it was in Asheville, North Carolina…somewhere I had only visited, and more correctly drove thru. I had seen the Biltmore House in photos and knew that it was the hallmark gem of Asheville.

Thankfully, it was a cooler August evening, and we arrived at the somewhat famous Highland Brewing Company around 6:00 PM. Cocktails would be sold until 7:00 PM, and the music would start around 7:30 PM. They had vittles from about twenty local restaurants. Everything was incredibly tasty, as Asheville is known to be a thriving food-to-table restaurant community. All of the proceeds would support Manna Food Bank’s operations in a continuing effort for awareness of the hunger issue in Asheville and also to support their mission to feed Asheville on a daily basis.

A local jazz band played until 11:00 PM that evening. Around 9:30 PM; (I still remember the exact time), Brady went to get me some ice cream from the bar that was there from a local creamery. To my surprise, after a few bites, I bit into something round and incredibly solid. I nearly broke a tooth; which would not have been pretty for the impending wedding photos. When I reached into my mouth and pulled out the object that had protruded and been mixed in my blackberry crème sorbet, it was a diamond. And I mean a DIAMOND! Brady would never tell where he had purchased it that evening, but I later learned that it was certified thru Blue Nile, upon obtaining insurance for it. There was no way I was going to not insure a $4000 diamond; that was already valued at $7500.

At Blue Nile; an online diamond exchange, you van design the perfect diamond for your mate. The color was “C”, clarity “S-1”, cut, a perfect round with eighty-four facets, carat, “2.25”. Brady had thought enough of me to design the diamond that I still wear to this day. It seems to have gotten more radiant with age, like a fine wine that Brady and I loved so much; as we shared many a bottle over our many years.

 The wedding would be held in Charleston. I had decided on having a small gathering and a large reception. Intimate weddings are by far my favorite and my special day would be no different. Brady had become my perfect match. There was no other man on Earth that I wanted to be with. From the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at me, to the way he opened my car door, and by far the way he had opened my eyes to the finer things in life; he would soon be mine, and I his…forever.

I had picked Magnolia Plantation for the site for our nuptials. We had been to visit and had a consultation. We picked out a place under the Magnolia and Spanish Moss trees to exchange our vows. The site had room for about fifty guests and we were expecting an almost undo-able number of 300 plus for the reception. Thankfully, my father had done well this year in the hay season and would be able to pay for the many expenses that come associated with his daughter’s special day.

As I envisioned, all eyes would be on me at precisely 3:30 PM. I have heard it said that the couple should be married on the “Uptick”; highly appropriate as it is a sign of moving forward in time together, for as many years as God will allow. In addition to his boss, Brady’s manager, Scott Burgess, was a Baptist pastor. He had only officiated a half-a-dozen weddings or so during his tenure as a pastor. He was a 6’9” strong, black man with a family consisting of his wife, two daughters and a son. He had played college basketball in Upstate New York and hailed from Buffalo. Ironically, in this time, Buffalo had become a renewed and even burgeoning town with some life attached to it. However, he had moved from there years earlier and had spent some time in Tennessee before landing his current role in Asheville, North Carolina.

When we arrived at the plantation for pictures, guests were already there and enjoying either a glass of champagne or Sangria in the gardens under the trees for shade. Since we were married in the early fall, the weather had died down a bit with respect to the heat and there was a light breeze that day. The humidity was low, and the combination of the three made for a nice fall afternoon. At exactly 2:30 P.M., I arrived in a horse drawn carriage, and we had his father’s car to drive away in. It was a 1969 Chevrolet Impala SS with 427 horses under the hood. A real man’s car. The seats were white leather and the exterior color was a baby blue. Brady’s father had purchased the car in the fall of 1971, after returning home from a two-year tour in Vietnam. Brady had not been thought of yet, but knew as a child that he wanted to have the car; either by inheritance, purchase or gift.

The guests were brimming with excitement as they saw me arrive. A few snaps; or rather a lot of them, and the wedding ceremony would proceed. I had only four on my side and Brady had five as he had decided on two best men.  Thomas beck and John Hughes, Jr. would be his best men. John was a “on the rise” university professor in the Midwest in bio statistics and Tom was in the finance business like Brady. While Tom was an Ashevillian, they had met thru common friends at a conference. At the time, Brady and Tom were considering a career with MetLife, but each chose a different and better direction. John, however, had chosen the most appropriate university for his work based on the strength, breadth and depth of the university’s program.