Chapter 4: The Night Begins to Unravel
I gave myself five minutes in that lounge.
I pressed the cool cloth to my cheek one last time, checked that the handprint had faded enough not to be the first thing every guest noticed, and then I walked back into the ballroom.
The band had resumed.
Tiffany was on the dance floor with her father, laughing at something he said, her dress catching the light from the chandeliers above.
Richard Calloway was a tall man with silver hair and the particular confidence of someone who had never been told no by anyone who mattered to him.
I watched them for a moment.
Then I found a seat at a table near the back and sat down.
An older woman I didn't recognize leaned toward me almost immediately.
"Are you all right, dear?
I saw what happened earlier."
"I'm fine," I said.
"Thank you."
"That was a terrible thing." She shook her head.
"I've been to a lot of weddings.
I've never seen anything like that."
"Neither have I."
She patted my hand once and turned back to her plate, and I was grateful she didn't push further.
Nathan found me twenty minutes later.
He sat down across from me without asking, loosened his tie slightly, and placed both hands flat on the table.
"Tiffany wants to apologize," he said.
"Does she."
"She knows she went too far."
"Nathan, your wife sl@pped me hard enough that the band stopped playing.
Half of your guests watched it happen.
An apology at the dinner table is not what that moment requires."
"Then what does it require?"
"Honesty," I said.
"From you, first."
He glanced around the table.
The other guests had quietly shifted their attention elsewhere with the practiced courtesy of people who understood they were sitting near something private.
"Not here," Nathan said.
"You keep saying that.
Not here, not tonight, not now." I kept my voice low.
"When, Nathan?"
He looked at his hands.
"After.
When things calm down."
"Things don't calm down on their own.
You know that." I watched his face.
"Tell me about the billing discrepancy."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't know anything about a billing discrepancy."
"Two vendor charges on my account.
Vendors I didn't hire directly.
A florist I've never heard of and a lighting company that isn't listed anywhere in the original contract."
"Tiffany expanded the floral arrangement.
She told me she handled it."
"She handled it using my account."
"She thought you'd approved it."
"I approved a specific budget, Nathan.
Not an open line of credit." I folded my hands on the table.
"How much does Richard know about my finances?"
Nathan looked up sharply.
"What?"
"Your father-in-law's name is on my contract.
He's been at every vendor meeting for the past two months.
Tiffany showed him the original cost breakdown I gave you back in January." I paused.
"How much does he know?"
"He knows we needed help with the wedding.
That's all."
"That's not all." I kept my eyes on him.
"Richard Calloway owns a property development company.
Did you know that one of his subsidiaries made an inquiry about the twelve acres I sold last month?"
Nathan went very still.
"The buyer was a holding company," I said.
"I didn't connect the name until this week.
The holding company traces back to a parent company.
That parent company has Richard's name in its registration documents."
The color left Nathan's face in a way that was almost gradual, like a tide going out.
"I didn't know that," he said.
"I believe you," I said.
"I'm not sure I should, but I do."
Across the room, Tiffany was watching us.
She said something to the woman beside her, then began moving in our direction.
"She's coming over," Nathan said.
"I know."
"Mom, please.
Just let tonight finish.
We can talk about all of this tomorrow, I promise."
Tiffany reached the table and placed her hand on Nathan's shoulder.
She looked at me with an expression that had been carefully arranged into something resembling remorse.
"Margaret," she said.
"I owe you an apology.
I let my emotions get the better of me and I reacted badly.
I'm sorry."
I looked at her for a long moment.
Her hand was still on Nathan's shoulder.
Her father was watching from across the room.
"Sit down, Tiffany," I said.
She blinked.
She hadn't expected that.
"Sit down," I said again.
"There are some things we need to discuss.
And I'd rather do it here, quietly, than in a way that involves the rest of your guests."
She sat.
Slowly.
Her eyes moved to Nathan, who gave her nothing.
May you like
"Tell me about the holding company," I said.
The carefully arranged expression disappeared.
