Cathy wanted me to contribute to her wedding. Fine. I’d contribute.
Just not in the way she’d imagined. I picked up my phone and dialed the first number. A woman answered on the third ring, her voice professionally warm.
“Slaughter wedding planning. This is Christine speaking.”
“Hello,” I said, my voice steady as granite. “I’m calling about the Herman Green wedding.
I’m Elaine Mack, Cathy’s mother.”
“Oh, Mrs. Mack, how wonderful to finally speak with you. Kathy has mentioned you might be contributing to the wedding expenses.
I have to say, she’s planned something absolutely spectacular.”
“I’m sure she has,” I replied, my tone giving nothing away. “I’d like to discuss the arrangements. When would be a good time to meet?”
“Would tomorrow work?
I have an opening at 2:00.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
I hung up and reached for my wine glass. The liquid was deep red, almost the color of blood.
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