The minister is just seconds into the "dearly beloved" speech when Bree interrupts him and pulls Orson off to the side. In a barely hushed voice (seriously, there's no way the entire church can't hear this), she asks why he didn't tell her that the police came to his house after Alma disappeared. Orson: "Because I was embarrassed, and they didn't find anything." Bree, accusingly: "Is that because you cleaned the house so thoroughly?" Orson: "When I'm upset, I clean." Bree -- who, of all people understands this impulse -- looks ashamed. Really?! There was no other way for Bree to buttonhole Orson before the ceremony? I mean, I know she didn't want him to see her dress, but couldn't she have just covered herself in a curtain or something, and then sent for him to come see her in some out-of-view spot for a chat? Because for a woman who's staked her entire reputation on caring so very much about what the neighbors think, Bree sure doesn't try very hard to avoid public embarrassment. Orson swears he didn't do it, and they return to the altar.
The deed is done: Orson and Bree are married. (It sort of puts an ominous spin on the "'til death do us part" stuff, doesn't it?) The reception is in full swing: the tent is draped with white fabric, elaborate chandeliers are sparkling away, the backyard bushes are decked out in twinkling fairy lights, and every table is decorated to within an inch of its life. There are candles and mountains of flowers everywhere -- tens of thousands of dollars' worth of flowers. Again I ask, my voice dripping with disbelief: two weeks? Tom starts a round of glass-tinkling, and Orson and Bree kiss. Lynette looks over at Snora, who is sitting at a table with a bunch of guys, and Lynette smiles a self-satisfied smile to herself. The smile falters, though, as Snora comes over to where Lynette's sitting and complains, "I don't know what idiot stuck me at that table, but every guy over there is just a boring stiff." Lynette tries to talk up some of the better candidates: "What about Jerry? Jerry's fun!" Snora, sarcastically: "You mean Mr. Fatty Hair Plugs? Oh yeah, he's a blast." She puts her fingers to her head and makes a "bullet in the brain" explosion sound. Well then, what about "Steve"? Lynette happens to know that his family's rich. Snora: "Well then, maybe they could all chip in and buy him some deodorant." Snora sits down and asks if Lynette's finished eating her food, and you can see whatever fun Lynette envisioned for herself tonight evaporating.