Chapter 4: What Evan Called About
I didn't go back to the reception right away.
Dennis poured two glasses of water from the pitcher on the side table and handed me one.
I held it but didn't drink.
"Tell me exactly what Evan said," I told him.
Dennis sat down.
"He called on a Tuesday.
Said he and Brianna were thinking about their long-term plans.
He asked what I thought the houses in your street were selling for.
I told him I wasn't a realtor.
He said Brianna had mentioned you'd talked about moving somewhere smaller now that you were getting older."
"I never said that."
"I know that now."
"Did he say anything else?"
Dennis looked at his glass.
"He asked whether you had a will."
The word landed like something dropped on a stone floor.
"He asked if I had a will."
"He framed it as concern.
Said he wanted to make sure you were taken care of.
That Brianna worried about you living alone." Dennis looked up.
"I told him you were in good health and that your affairs were your own business.
He thanked me and hung up."
I set the water glass down.
"She sent him to gather information."
"That's what it looks like."
I thought about Christmas.
Brianna had come alone that year — Evan was with his own family.
We'd had dinner, just the two of us, and she'd asked me what I wanted the next chapter of my life to look like.
I'd said I wanted peace.
I'd said I wanted to see the people I loved taken care of.
I'd said I didn't need much.
She had taken those words and built a document around them.
"Dennis," I said.
"The wedding.
The entire wedding."
He met my eyes.
"I need you to say it out loud," I said.
"Because I've been sitting here telling myself I'm wrong."
He was quiet for a moment.
"The wedding may have been the setup," he said.
"Get you emotional.
Get you feeling generous.
Get you in a room at the end of the night when you're tired and grateful and your guard is completely down." He paused.
"And then put a pen in your hand."
I sat with that.
The dress.
The flowers.
The orchestra.
The tears in my eyes when I walked her down the aisle.
All of it still real.
All of it still mine.
And possibly all of it calculated.
"I need to know how far this goes," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I need to know if this was Brianna's idea or Evan's.
I need to know when it started.
I need to know if there are other documents." I stood up.
"And I need to call my attorney tonight."
Dennis nodded.
"I'll drive you home when you're ready."
"I'm not leaving yet." I straightened my jacket.
"I'm going back out there."
He looked at me carefully.
"Why?"
"Because if I leave now, she'll know I'm rattled.
And I want to watch her for the rest of the night.
I want to see how she acts when she thinks it didn't work."
Dennis was quiet.
Then he stood up too.
"All right," he said.
"But stay near me."
We walked back into the reception hall together.
The orchestra was playing something slow.
Couples were on the floor.
Brianna was at the center table with Evan and his parents, and when she saw me come through the door, something moved across her face — fast, almost invisible.
Relief.
She thought I'd left.
I smiled at her from across the room.
May you like
She smiled back.
But her hand, resting on the table, curled slowly into a fist.
