“My signature?”
“No.”
Elaine paused.
“Daniel’s.”
Daniel heard.
“My what?”
Margaret placed the phone on speaker.
Elaine repeated.
Daniel stared at Lauren.
“I didn’t sign hotel amendments.”
Lauren said:
“You approved the after-party.”
“I said maybe.”
“You said yes.”
“I did not sign eighty-two thousand dollars.”
Charles stepped toward his daughter.
“You told me Margaret approved it.”
Lauren looked at him.
“She would have.”
Margaret almost laughed.
Everyone kept spending money on the basis that she eventually would.
Perhaps that had been the real family tradition forming around her.
She spoke into the phone.
“Elaine.”
“Yes?”
“Notify the hotel in writing that I authorize no new charges beyond the original contract.”
Lauren’s face went white.
“Margaret.”
She ignored her.
“The reception?”
Elaine asked.
“Original contracted reception continues.”
Lauren looked briefly relieved.
Margaret continued:
“Nothing added after yesterday.”
Hannah Price was already approaching.
Her own phone rang.
She answered.
Margaret watched the event director’s expression become serious.
Elaine had people moving quickly.
Lauren whispered:
“You can’t do that.”
Margaret looked at her.
“I just did.”
“You promised.”
“I promised to pay for the wedding we agreed on.”
“The after-party is part of the wedding.”
“It was added yesterday without asking me.”
Daniel looked toward Hannah.
“Was my signature used?”
Hannah lowered her phone.
“I need to verify before answering.”
“Do that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lauren stared at Daniel.
“You are taking her side.”
He looked at his wife.
“This isn’t a side.”
“It always is with her.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was quieter now.
“I think maybe you made it one.”
The conference room discussion lasted forty-eight minutes.
The wedding guests remained outside.
Dinner service was delayed.
Rumors multiplied.
Margaret hated that.
She hated being watched.
Hated knowing the slap would be discussed by people who had no idea what led to it.
Most of all she hated watching her son sit at one end of a polished mahogany table while the woman he had married that afternoon sat at the other.
Lauren’s mascara had smudged.
She had removed her veil.
Without it she looked younger.
More frightened.
Margaret did not enjoy that.
Revenge fantasies were easier when the person who harmed you remained one-dimensional.
Lauren was not.
Margaret had loved her.
Perhaps not like a daughter.
That phrase was used too casually.
But enough to include her in Christmas stockings before the engagement.
Enough to keep her favorite tea in the kitchen.
Enough to know Lauren hated mushrooms, loved old musicals, and pretended not to cry during animal-rescue commercials.
Lauren had sat beside Margaret during the anniversary of Robert’s death.
No speeches.
Just sat.
Those memories remained true even after the slap.
That made everything harder.
Elaine joined by speakerphone.
Daniel’s attorney, Martin Cole, arrived in person because his office was only fifteen minutes away.
Charles wanted his own lawyer.
Margaret agreed.
The original packet became the first issue.
Charles eventually admitted it was in his hotel suite.
Martin asked:
“Why?”
Charles said:
“Because we intended to file it Monday.”
Daniel stared.
“With who?”
“Private trust administration.”