Chapter 3 - Behind the Ballroom Door
The hotel manager led us into a small conference room behind the ballroom.
Sarah. Daniel. Victoria. Thomas.
And me, because Sarah wouldn’t let go of my hand.
Outside, someone began moving broken cake plates into bus tubs.
The ordinary sound made everything stranger.
Thomas stood near the door.
There was raspberry filling on his cuff.
Victoria looked at it with open disgust.
“You couldn’t even let her have this day.”
He flinched.
“I didn’t know this was her wedding.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“The staffing agency called this morning. They gave me a hotel address and a shift time.”
He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table.
The assignment message was still there.
No bride’s name. No groom’s name. Just a location, a uniform requirement, and a noon arrival time.
“I saw the welcome sign after I clocked in,” he said. “Sarah Bennett. Then I saw your picture beside hers.”
“So you stayed,” Victoria snapped.
Thomas looked at Sarah.
“I should have left.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
He swallowed.
“I wanted to see you happy.”
Nobody spoke.
Sarah sat down slowly.
“Where have you been?”
Thomas pulled out the chair across from her, then paused.
She nodded.
“I was in prison.”
Victoria leaned back.
There it was.
The fact she’d been waiting to use.
Sarah’s face closed.
“For what?”
“Taking money from the construction company where I worked.”
“Did you?”
Thomas looked directly at her.
“Yes.”
I had expected a denial. Some clean explanation that would sort everyone into the right boxes.
Instead, he gave her something ugly and solid.
“I had a gambling problem. I took payroll money, thinking I could replace it before anyone knew. Then I took more.”
“How long?”
“Four years inside. After that, supervised release. Jobs where I could find them.”
Sarah looked at the photograph.
“Mom said you died.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known she told me that?”
“Not until years later.”
Victoria folded her hands.
“I protected you from a criminal.”
Sarah turned toward her.
“By inventing a funeral?”
“There was no funeral.”
“No. There wasn’t.”
Sarah’s voice went flat.
“There was a closed bedroom door. You told me he was gone. You told me not to ask questions because it hurt you.”
Thomas lowered his head.
Victoria stood.
“This conversation is over.”
May you like
Sarah didn’t move.
“No,” she said. “It’s finally starting.”
