Chapter 8 - The Price of Keeping a Promise
“Paul expects first repayment June twenty-second.”
I read the sentence aloud.
Kelsey nodded.
“Wes says the first installment is due that Monday.”
“How much?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
I looked at her.
“Does he have it?”
She shook her head.
“Not without taking out another loan.”
I put the program down.
Adrian had been counting on the combined wedding to reduce Kelsey and Wes's expenses.
He'd been counting on their gifts.
And he'd been counting on money already committed to my wedding to keep the whole arrangement operating long enough for those gifts to arrive.
It wasn't a workable financial plan.
It was a collection of assumptions held together by my unwillingness to embarrass anyone.
“Does Paul know the wedding is canceled?” I asked.
“I don't think so.”
“Then he needs to.”
Kelsey looked frightened.
“Wes wants to tell him himself.”
“He should.”
I studied her.
“Are you still going to marry Wes?”
She stared into her coffee.
“I don't know.”
The answer surprised me.
She continued.
“I love him. But I don't know what else he's been hiding because he thought I couldn't handle it.”
I understood that feeling too well.
“Then don't rush just because a date is printed on something.”
She gave a weak smile.
“That's good advice.”
“It was expensive advice.”
For a moment, we both laughed.
Then the laughter faded.
That afternoon, I met Adrian at Cedar Mill Hall.
Naomi had agreed to host a financial review with the original booking parties.
My father came with me.
Adrian arrived alone.
He looked tired.
There were shadows beneath his eyes, and his shirt was wrinkled in a way that would once have made me reach over and straighten it.
I kept my hands in my lap.
Naomi placed a payment summary on the table.
“I want to clarify what this meeting can accomplish,” she began. “We can discuss payment sources and contract options. We cannot decide private disputes for you.”
Adrian nodded.
Dad sat very still beside me.
Naomi continued.
“The initial six-thousand-dollar deposit was provided by Frank Bennett. The wedding savings account supplied another four thousand eight hundred dollars. Other payments were made through Adrian's card.”
Adrian looked at the table.
“Most of those payments were for our wedding,” he said.
“They were,” I replied. “Until you tried to transfer the event.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I thought you wanted me to find a solution.”
“I wanted you to respect the solution I had already chosen.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Adrian, did you tell the venue I agreed to pay for another couple's wedding?”
Adrian swallowed.
“I said you wanted to help.”
“That's not what I asked.”
For a long moment, Adrian said nothing.
Then he looked at Dad.
“I used the photo and your note to support the transfer request.”
Dad's expression tightened.
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked down.
“Because I thought you'd say no if you knew Julia was upset.”
My father leaned back.
I had rarely seen him angry.
He wasn't a man who raised his voice.
That made what he said next more powerful.
“Son, you took a father's gift to his daughter and treated it like money you could redirect whenever it suited you.”
Adrian's face reddened.
“I wasn't trying to steal anything.”
“I didn't say you were. I'm telling you what you did.”
Naomi quietly turned a page.
“We have a possible arrangement,” she said.
She explained that Cedar Mill Hall could cancel the disputed transfer request and process refunds or credits according to the original contract.
The refundable assignment security could return to the account that funded it.
A portion of the original deposit could be returned as a discretionary credit because the hall had not incurred all the expenses anticipated under the original agreement.
Other charges would remain nonrefundable.
Adrian would still be responsible for his own outstanding contractual obligations.
I listened carefully.
The numbers weren't perfect.
Some money was gone.
But they were far better than allowing my father's savings to support a wedding we hadn't agreed to share.
Naomi looked at Adrian.
“Do you authorize us to cancel the assignment request?”
He hesitated.
“Could we wait until Monday?”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I need to talk to Wes.”
“Adrian,” Naomi said, “the deadline for certain adjustments is today.”
He looked at me.
“Julia, please.”
For one terrible second, I saw the man I had loved.
The man who drove forty minutes with my spare key.
The man who brought my father flowers after Mom died.
The man who could be generous and attentive and still make decisions that hurt people.
“I can't keep paying for promises you made without me,” I said.
He closed his eyes.
Then he nodded.
“Cancel the transfer.”
Naomi began preparing the confirmation.
My father reached for my hand beneath the table.
I held it tightly.
After the meeting, Adrian asked whether we could speak outside.
Dad offered to wait in the car.
We stood beneath the wooden awning while a light rain began falling across the parking lot.
“I wasn't trying to replace you with Kelsey,” Adrian said.
“I know.”
He looked surprised.
“I know this wasn't about being in love with her,” I continued. “It was about you needing to be the person who fixed everything.”
He looked at the wet pavement.
“Wes was there when I had nothing.”
“That matters.”
“I couldn't let him lose everything.”
“And I mattered too.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“But you acted like helping him and respecting me couldn't happen at the same time.”
Adrian rubbed his face.
“I thought if I got us through the wedding, everything would settle down.”
“You mean I would settle down.”
He didn't deny it.
For several seconds, we listened to the rain.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
“Paul isn't just my friend.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“He's been helping the showroom too.”
“With what?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Cash flow.”
I felt another piece of the story shift.
“Are you in financial trouble?”
“The showroom's been slow.”
“You told me sales were improving.”
“They were. For a while.”
He reached into his coat and removed a folded statement.
I recognized the showroom's logo at the top.
There were overdue commercial invoices, a short-term business advance, and a payment schedule.
One entry had been circled.
Twenty thousand dollars.
I stared at the number.
“Adrian, what is this?”
He swallowed.
“A loan Paul made to help the business get through spring.”
“Does Wes know?”
“No.”
“Does Kelsey?”
“No.”
“And you guaranteed another twelve thousand dollars?”
Adrian looked at me with exhausted eyes.
“I thought I could get everything paid back once summer business picked up.”
I studied the papers.
Then I noticed that the company receiving the loan wasn't the flooring showroom.
It was a separate limited liability company.
Mercer Event Services.
I looked up.
“What's Mercer Event Services?”
May you like
Adrian went completely still.
And I realized there was another part of the wedding arrangement he hadn't told anyone about.
