Then I took out my phone.

The venue manager was named Allison Reed.

She answered on the second ring.

“Mrs. Bennett? Is everything all right?”

“Allison, where are you?”

“Near the service corridor.”

“Could you meet me outside the lobby?”

Two minutes later, she appeared carrying a tablet.

Her expression changed when she saw my cheek.

“What happened?”

I handed her the folder.

“I need you to tell me which services under my contracts have not been provided yet.”

She hesitated.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes.”

She looked through the documents.

“The late-night premium bar hasn’t started. The band extension begins at ten-thirty. You still have two shuttle rotations, and tomorrow’s brunch is a separate service.”

“Can I cancel them?”

Allison looked at me carefully.

“You’re the contracting party.”

“So can I?”

“Yes. There may be cancellation charges on certain items, but yes.”

I nodded.

“Cancel them.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“All of them?”

For years, whenever Daniel asked me for something, my answer had been yes before I even checked what it would cost me.

Yes to college expenses Thomas and I hadn’t planned for.

Yes when Daniel needed help with his first apartment.

Yes when the wedding needed another deposit.

Yes when Tiffany wanted different flowers.

Yes when her parents wanted transportation.

I looked through the glass doors toward the ballroom.

The music was still playing.

“Everything that hasn’t been provided yet.”

Allison lowered her tablet.

“Mrs. Bennett, I need to make sure you understand. Guests will notice.”

“I understand.”

“The couple may choose to pay directly to keep the services running.”

“That’s their decision.”

She waited another second.

Then she tapped the screen.

“All right.”

My phone rang almost immediately.

Daniel.

I watched his name flash across the screen.

I answered.

“Mom, what did you do?”

Behind him, I could hear voices.

“I canceled the services I’m no longer paying for.”

“The bar manager says they’re ending the premium package.”

“Yes.”

“And the band says they’re leaving early.”

“Yes.”

His voice dropped.

“Mom, please. Tiffany is losing it.”

I looked at the ballroom doors.

“Then help your wife.”

“Can you just turn everything back on? We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

There it was.

The sentence I had heard in different forms for years.

Fix this now.

We’ll deal with it later.

And later always meant me.

“No.”

Silence.

Daniel actually seemed confused.

“What?”

“I said no.”

“Mom—”

“If you want the bar open, give them your card. If you want the band longer, pay them. If you want the brunch tomorrow, arrange it yourself.”

“I don’t have that kind of room on my card.”

I closed my eyes.

Not because I was angry.

Because even then, part of me wanted to solve it.

I could have.

I still had enough available credit.

All I had to do was walk back inside.

Then I touched my cheek.

“Then I guess you’ll have to decide what you can afford.”

“Mom, please.”

I looked down at the contracts in my hand.

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

I ended the call.

Then I walked outside.

One of the black shuttle vans I had paid for was waiting beneath the entrance lights.

For once, I didn’t turn around to see who needed something from me.

I simply got in and went home.

The Morning After I Finally Said No

I woke at 6:14 the next morning to fourteen missed calls.

Eight from Daniel.

Four from Tiffany.

Two from Cynthia.

There were also eleven text messages.

The last one from Daniel had arrived at 2:07 a.m.

Mom, we need to talk. This got completely out of control.

I put the phone facedown on my nightstand.

For years, seeing Daniel’s name on my screen had made me respond immediately.

That morning, I made coffee first.

My house was quiet.

On the dining table sat the cream-colored wedding folder I had brought home with me.

I opened it while the coffee brewed.

Venue deposit.

Catering.

Flowers.

Lighting.

Band.

Transportation.

Bar package.

Photography.

Brunch.

I found a yellow legal pad and started adding numbers.

When I finished, I stared at the total.

$45,684.

That didn’t include the dress I had bought for myself, the hotel room I never used, or several smaller purchases I had stopped bothering to record.

I wrote one more thing underneath.

LAND.

I circled it once.

At 9:18, someone knocked on my front door.

I didn’t need to look through the window.

Daniel always knocked three times.

When I opened the door, there were four people on my porch.

Daniel.

Tiffany.

Richard.

Cynthia.

Tiffany wore gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.

Daniel looked as though he hadn’t slept.

Richard spoke first.

“We need to straighten this out.”

I opened the door wider.

“Come in.”

$45,684

They gathered around my dining table.

Nobody sat at first.

Richard placed both hands on the back of a chair.

“Last night was humiliating.”

I looked at him.

“Yes.”

He seemed irritated by my answer.

“Guests were told the premium bar had ended. The band left before midnight. We had people waiting for transportation.”

“The regular bar remained open.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Cynthia stepped in.

“Margaret, nobody is saying Tiffany handled things properly.”

Tiffany looked away.

Cynthia continued.

“But canceling services during the reception embarrassed everyone.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Who paid to continue them?”

Daniel answered.

“I did.”

“How?”

He rubbed his forehead.

“Two cards.”

I nodded.

“Then you managed.”

Tiffany finally looked at me.

“You wanted to punish me.”

“No.”

“You shut down my wedding.”

“I stopped paying for parts of it.”

“Same thing.”

I slid the yellow legal pad across the table.

Daniel picked it up.

His eyes moved down the page.

“What is this?”

“What I spent.”

He stared at the total.

“Forty-five thousand?”

“Forty-five thousand six hundred eighty-four dollars.”

“That can’t be right.”

I opened the folder.

“Check.”

He started going through the invoices.

Tiffany sat down beside him.

“Some of these were gifts.”

“Yes.”

“You offered.”

“Sometimes.”

She tapped one invoice.

“You agreed to the flowers.”

“After you changed them.”

“Because the original ones looked cheap.”

Daniel stopped turning pages.