Christopher Kitteridge, who is now “the local podiatrist, a middle-aged man” (61), has just married a woman named Suzanne. Throughout the small ceremony at the house, Olive Kitteridge “has been fighting the sensation of moving underwater” (61). Now ready for everyone to go home, she sneaks away and lays down on the bed in the bridal suite, taking care not to wrinkle her dress, “a gauzy green muslin with big reddish-pink geraniums printed all over it” (61), as she likes the outfit. Outside the room, people move about, and the smells of perfume and cigarettes drift in. Olive imagines the venue collapsing, overrun with people. Olive and her husband, Henry Kitteridge, designed the house as a gift for their son; it is a few miles away from their own house.

A little girl enters, and Olive attempts to greet her. The child doesn’t speak until finally telling Olive, “[Y]ou look dead” (64). Olive, a bit stung, is indeed amazed that she survived the day, having “pictured herself having another heart attack on the day of her son’s wedding” (64). As Olive lays back on the bed, the child pesters Olive about the “hair coming out of one of those things on your face” (63).