Chapter 6 - THE WEDDING THAT NEVER HAPPENED
I stared at the photograph.
Then I looked at my mother.
"Tell me this isn't what it looks like."
Diane said nothing.
"Mom."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I was holding them for Vanessa."
"Why?"
"She said the numbers were hard to photograph because the cards kept sliding."
Brett closed his eyes.
Vanessa looked at the floor.
I felt something inside me grow painfully still.
"You knew she was taking my financial information."
My mother's voice trembled.
"I knew she wanted to use the cards."
"Without my permission?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom, look at me."
Slowly, she raised her head.
"Yes."
It was one word.
Just one.
But it changed forty years of memories.
Every time my mother had called me selfish for refusing to lend money.
Every time she'd said Vanessa needed more help because she was younger.
Every time she'd reminded me that family came first.
Suddenly, I understood.
My mother hadn't simply looked away while Vanessa stole from me.
She had helped her do it.
Brett took a step away from my sister.
"How could you?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"You don't understand what it was like planning this wedding."
"Then explain."
"Your parents have money, Brett. Real money. Your mother invited people who own vacation homes in three countries. Your cousin's wedding cost more than our first house!"
"My parents didn't ask you to compete with anyone."
"You didn't have to say it!"
Her voice cracked.
"I grew up watching Sarah get praised for being smart, responsible, successful. Marcus was always the one Dad trusted at the shop. I was just Vanessa. The pretty one who couldn't finish anything."
For the first time, I heard something beneath her arrogance.
Shame.
Old, stubborn shame.
But shame didn't justify what she'd done.
"You could have had a beautiful wedding for ten thousand dollars," I said.
Vanessa wiped her cheeks angrily.
"I know."
"Then why did you spend almost two hundred thousand?"
She looked toward our mother.
"Because Mom said you could afford it."
Diane flinched.
Brett shook his head.
"That's enough."
He took off his wedding jacket and laid it over the back of a chair.
"There won't be a ceremony tomorrow."
Vanessa stared at him.
"You can't do that."
"I'm not marrying you while you're still blaming everyone else for stealing your sister's money."
"I love you!"
"I love you too."
His voice was barely audible.
"That's why this hurts."
He picked up his keys.
"The wedding is postponed indefinitely. I'm going to speak with the hotel and the vendors about what can be canceled."
Vanessa began crying.
Not the theatrical tears she used when she wanted our parents to take her side.
Real tears.
She sank onto the sofa beside her wedding dress.
For one moment, I almost approached her.
Then I remembered the laughter.
The champagne glass.
The way she'd mocked my divorce and my childless life in front of forty-three people.
I stayed where I was.
Brett paused beside me.
"Sarah, I should have asked more questions about the money."
"Yes," I said. "You should have."
He nodded.
"I'll cooperate with the investigation."
After he left, my mother reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"Please don't."
"Sarah, I'm your mother."
"I know. That's what makes this worse."
Diane began sobbing.
My father had spent decades calling her the heart of our family.
Tonight, I wondered how many times that heart had decided I could survive being hurt.
Before leaving, I noticed an old photograph on the mantel.
Grandma Rose stood outside Oak Street Press, wearing her blue work coat.
A silver pocket watch hung from a chain around her neck.
I remembered sitting beside her as a teenager, listening to the steady ticking while she taught me how to balance the shop's cash drawer.
She used to say, "Sarah, you can give people your time. Just don't let them decide that all your time belongs to them."
I'd forgotten that lesson.
Or perhaps I'd spent my whole life avoiding it.
When I reached my car, Marcus was waiting beside the driveway.
He looked troubled.
"I went back through the accounts," he said.
"Did you find something?"
He nodded.
"Dad told us the Gray Finch money kept the employees paid."
"Yes."
"Sarah, I've reconciled the payroll account. The business is still six weeks behind."
I stared at him.
"Then where did the sixty-one thousand eight hundred dollars go?"
Marcus swallowed.
"That's the problem."
May you like
He held out a printed transaction summary.
"Not one dollar of that money went into payroll."
