Chapter 3 - The Panic Call
Three days before the wedding, the frantic barrage began.
I was sitting on the screened porch of my coastal home, drinking sweet iced tea and reviewing the fall books for our corporate accounts. My phone rested on the glass table. At two-fifteen in the afternoon, the screen illuminated with Vanessa’s contact photo—a smiling picture from her graduation three years ago that I hadn't yet replaced.
I let it ring three times before picking up. “Hello, Vanessa.”
“Mom! Where on earth have you been?” Her voice came through the speaker in a high-pitched, breathless rush. There was no greeting, no warmth, only sharp irritation. “I’ve been trying to reach the office all morning, but your receptionist told me that all inquiries regarding my account have to go through you directly! What is going on?”
“I am at home, Vanessa,” I said evenly. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“Everything is the trouble!” she shrieked, the panic clearly fraying her composure. “The florist called me an hour ago saying the floral installations haven't been funded! The luxury shuttle company said the deposit expired yesterday! And the caterer—the head chef himself called Christopher’s father to ask who is providing the credit guarantee for the prime rib and caviar stations! They told him Margaret Hawthorne Events pulled their commercial guarantee!”
“That is correct,” I replied, taking a slow sip of my tea. “Margaret Hawthorne Events only provides financial guarantees for clients whose events we are actively managing and hosting. As you made it abundantly clear during our lunch on King Street, you do not want me or my company associated with your celebration. You felt my humble presence would diminish the standards of the Blake family.”
There was a dead, suffocating silence on the other end of the line. For five full seconds, only the sound of Vanessa’s ragged breathing came through.
“You... you canceled my wedding?” she gasped, her voice trembling between disbelief and rage. “Are you out of your mind? My wedding is in seventy-two hours! The Blake family has two hundred out-of-town guests arriving! The senator is coming! How could you be so petty over lunch?”
“I did not cancel your wedding, darling,” I said, maintaining a voice as calm as a summer lake. “I simply relieved myself of the burden of paying for it. You told me that my life’s work was nothing to be proud of. Why would you want to celebrate your union on the back of work you consider so worthless? Christopher’s family comes from great prestige, as you continually remind me. Surely an illustrious family with such pristine standards can easily write a check for ninety-five thousand dollars to cover the remaining balances.”
“Mom, stop! You know they don't carry that kind of liquid cash right now! Christopher’s father has all his assets tied up in overseas trusts!” she wailed, her voice cracking. “You promised me! You promised Dad before he died that I would have everything!”
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“Your father taught me to respect myself, Vanessa,” I said softly. “He never taught me to allow my own daughter to treat me like a shameful secret. If you wish to have a grand reception, you and Christopher have seventy-two hours to secure the funds. Have a wonderful day.”
I hung up the phone and set it on do not disturb. For the first time in twenty years, my hands did not shake.
