At a walk-in wedding chapel, a simple tying of the knot

Their appointment was for 11:30 a.m. The bride arrived first at the storefront wedding chapel, amid the discount businesses and fast-food shops of Woodland Avenue, with its red carpet and cherub statues out front. Dressed in a deep-red sari with gold accents, she sat in the vestibule next to her friend and trembled, then giggled at her trembling, as she waited for her husband-to-be. Engaged two days, he was a few minutes late for their plans to elope.

"I realized his love, and how deep it was," said the bride, Nancy, soon-to-be Nancy Singh, 19, a college junior, with her hands clasped on her lap, her round face beaming, "and I'm so happy."

The walk-in chapel, Trinity Wedding Center, has been on the 6700 block for more than a decade. In that time, owner David Price, a nondenominational minister who grew up in the Southwest Philadelphia neighborhood, and his four officiants have presided over the unions of young couples, gray-haired couples, first marriages, second tries, immigrants without church homes, mixed faiths, working-class and middle-class partners, and, in recent years, more and more blended families. Customers are drawn to the quickness, ease, and affordability, at least for the day.

"It crosses every level," said Price, 43, sitting in his office on a weekday while in the chapel the couple who had booked the 11 a.m. appointment exchanged vows. "Some people want a small wedding. They want to save money, and they want to get married."

Trinity is one of a handful of wedding chapels in the area, competing with Yerkes Wedding Salon in East Lansdowne and the Wedding Chapel in the Northeast.

Inquiring couples are usually routed to one from City Hall, where the register of wills issues about 9,500 marriage licenses a year.

"We wanted something small and private," said Paul Henderson, 23, of Germantown, who married his fiancee of two years at Trinity in a simple ceremony this month. "We'll do something big later on in life. Right now we just want to get married."

Henderson works as a counselor in a mental-health facility, and is finishing up his psychology degree online. His wife, Shanon, recently received her associate degree in early-childhood education, and teaches at a day-care center. The two are saving money for a house.

Trinity, open seven days a week, offers civil and religious ceremonies. Wedding packages range from basic to deluxe, from $99 to $350. And for his newlyweds, Price offers free counseling over the life of their union.

Couples tend to seek his help in determining "rules and responsibilities," said Price, such as whose turn it is to go to the grocery store. And more and more, couples want to know how to blend children, exes, and in-laws from previous relationships into one, happy, Brady Bunch-style family.

"No matter what," says Price, "the husband and wife have to be committed. That's the person you promised to love, and that's the person you need to support."

Price knows from experience.

After he opened the Right Price janitorial service across the street, Price got into the wedding business, inspired by his own ceremony, his second, which took place in 1998 in the modest home he shared with his now wife, Terra, not far from Woodland Avenue.

Back then, their brood consisted of four kids: three from Price's previous marriage, one from his wife's.

"We decided it was us against them," Price said, then laughed. "As a result the children bonded, saying, 'If they're going to stick together, we have to stick together, too.' "

The family, now living in South Jersey, has grown to six children, ages 6 to 24.

Price opened the wedding chapel in 2000, in a neighborhood emanating blight and neglect.

"When drugs came in, it really went down. People were setting up shop on this corner, that corner," Price said, pointing to the avenue. "It got to the point where I would offer them lunch and say, 'Can you please set up somewhere else? I got weddings coming in.' "

For a short time, Price took his services on the road with Weddings on Wheels, a delivery truck he converted into a chapel with a drop ceiling, pink wallpaper, and flower-laden trellis. He stationed himself near the Immigration and Naturalization Service office in Center City to boost business.

As his neighborhood "got better," Price outlasted other businesses along the Woodland Avenue corridor. He said business had been steady, with about seven weddings a week.

"This is ministry," said Price, who became a minister eight years ago, and who recently expanded the chapel into a church. "It is rewarding because people usually come in happy. I'm the opposite of a mortuary."

Price has officiated at countless weddings, and said he had learned to distinguish tears of joy from tears of anguish. Standing at the altar, he has told jittery couples to come back when they are ready to commit to forever. And he long ago removed the portion of the ceremony that asks if anyone objects.

"My job is to make sure these two want to be married," Price said. "Some, you see the love. Some weddings look like an episode of Jerry Springer."

The soon-to-be Nancy Singh met her groom, Gurmeet, at a convenience store in the Northeast section of the city. He was a clerk; she was a regular candy bar customer.

"I didn't want him to think I was there to see him," said Nancy, lovely, with long dark hair, laughing in the chapel with her friend Bebe, who got married at Trinity three years ago.

She eventually gave Gurmeet her number, to call if there were any job openings. He phoned one day, pretending to have dialed the wrong number.

They dated several months, and then he proposed.

She first turned him down, betraying her heart.

"My mom told me, 'It's not the time for you to get married,' " said Nancy. "That when I'm ready, my dad will find me a husband. I told her, 'Someone loves me already.' "

Indians, Nancy explained, have "arranged marriage."

Gurmeet arrived at Trinity around 11:40, dressed in a blue pin-striped shirt and dark pants. A small entourage of friends followed him, one holding a bag from a jewelry store with the rings.

Tall and handsome, he paid the officiant at the front desk for the premium package, which includes a photo array, then walked inside the chapel.

"I'm happy," he said, grinning. "I'm getting married."

Gurmeet shared his good news with his parents, who are in India. Nancy's parents were at work, unaware. She plans to tell them after she graduates from La Salle University, where she is studying nursing.

Standing side by side, the two vowed to love, cherish, and honor each other, "till death do you part."

Each slipped a silver band on the other's finger, as Bebe and a Trinity photographer snapped photos.

"I now declare you husband and wife," the officiant said. "You may turn and kiss your bride."

At that moment, Nancy looked up into her husband's eyes and smiled.