The observer's gaze finds hat_grandma's over two small heads. The look needs no translation: *together?* Hat_grandma's chin dips two millimetres. This is a yes. From somewhere inside her enormous hat-and-suit ensemble, hat_grandma produces a single wrapped lemon candy — materialised with the assurance of someone who arrives at weddings prepared. Aurora's fist of birdseed goes quite still. Flavio's wand tilts inquiringly. The observer offers a hand, and somehow, without fuss or tears or any perceptible dent to the twins' collective dignity, all four of them settle into the front pew beside a white peony arrangement. Flavio tucks the boutonnière under his arm like a conductor's baton. Aurora unwraps the candy with scientific concentration. The organist, sensing the storm has passed, eases gratefully back to a pianissimo. The ceremony quietly resumes its proper shape.