Chapter 3 - Receipts at the Altar
"Daniel, thank goodness," my mother blurted out, her voice pitching up into that strained, sweet tone she used when pretending everything was fine. "Talk some sense into her! She had some kind of breakdown in the cottage and put on this filthy costume!"
Daniel walked past my mother as if she were completely invisible. He stopped directly in front of me, took my free hand, and looked me in the eyes. "You look beautiful," he said softly.
"Daniel, I—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "I know everything, Claire. Come with me."
Before I could ask what he meant, the heavy wooden doors of the barn opened, and the coordinator signaled that the guests had taken their seats. Natalie was already standing on the raised wooden riser beside the grand piano, wearing an elegant navy lace dress with her hair swept up in curls. She had a microphone held lightly between her manicured fingers, ready to perform her solo for the processional.
When the double doors swung wide and the crowd stood up, gasps rippled through the eighty people seated on wooden benches. Natalie’s face beamed with a triumphant, wicked smirk when she saw me standing in the doorway wearing her old handiwork. She had expected me to arrive late, tear-streaked, and humiliated.
Instead, Daniel took my arm, and we walked down the center aisle together.
The music never started. Natalie froze, watching us stride toward the altar side-by-side. Our pastor looked completely bewildered, his Bible trembling slightly in his hands. Daniel walked me right up to the front, stepped up onto the platform, and turned around to face the entire congregation.
He reached up, took the wireless handheld microphone off the stand beside the podium, and held it to his mouth.
"Welcome, everyone," Daniel’s voice boomed through the barn’s sound system, steady and clear like a lecture he had practiced a thousand times. "Before my bride and I exchange our vows, there is a small matter of family history we need to clear up."
The room went pin-drop silent. My father stood up halfway from the front pew, looking around nervously, but Daniel held up his hand.
"Three hours ago, Claire’s wedding dress was stolen from the bridal cottage," Daniel announced, projecting across the room. "And this torn prom dress was left in its place with a note saying: Wear what you’re worth. My mother-in-law told me five minutes ago that Claire was having a breakdown and making things up."
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Daniel pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and tapped the screen twice.
"Last night at 11:42 PM, my sister-in-law, Natalie, sent me a string of messages from her private account," Daniel said into the microphone. "And I think every single person sitting in this barn deserves to hear what she had to say."
