Chapter 5 - What Dad Left
My father had hated discussing money at dinner.
“Let people finish their food before you ruin their evening,” he used to say.
After he died, my mother handled the paperwork because I could barely handle walking into a room where his jacket still hung over a chair.
She told me there were things he had wanted done.
I trusted her.
That was what made the silence hurt.
“Was it Dad’s money?” I asked.
“Your father and I were married for thirty-four years.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He set money aside. I managed the arrangements.”
“For me?”
“For your wedding.”
“And you called it your contribution.”
“I did the work, Olivia.”
Brooke rubbed her forehead.
“Mom.”
Diane turned on her.
“You don’t get to stand there acting innocent.”
“I’m not.”
“Then stop.”
Ethan moved beside me, close enough that our arms touched.
“How much?” I asked.
My mother folded her hands.
“We are not doing an accounting exercise in a hotel.”
Nora spoke from the corner.
“Then stop using the bill as a threat.”
Diane looked at her as though a lamp had spoken.
“You have no idea what this family has been through.”
“I know what happened this morning.”
“That dress was inappropriate.”
“For whom?” I asked.
“For the kind of wedding we planned.”
“You planned.”
“You agreed to this hotel. You agreed to the guest list.”
“After you told me Dad wanted something big.”
My mother’s eyes flickered.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
“What did he actually say?”
She looked toward the door.
I felt sick.
“Mom.”
“Your father wanted you taken care of.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Brooke pressed her lips together.
The room seemed to tilt.
All those decisions. The ballroom. The extra guests. The florist I couldn’t afford. Every time I hesitated, my mother had brought my father into the conversation.
He would have wanted this.
He would have been disappointed.
Do it for him.
A knock interrupted us.
Uncle Mark stood in the doorway.
His expression was grim.
“Diane,” he said. “I heard enough from the hall.”
My mother went rigid.
“This doesn’t concern you.”
Mark looked at me.
“Your dad gave me something before he died. For your wedding.”
My breath caught.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He glanced at my mother.
“Because she said you already had your copy.”
My mother reached for his arm.
“Mark, don’t.”
May you like
He stepped away.
“There was a letter,” he said.
