Chapter 15 - The Lowest Table
The wedding did not happen at four o’clock.
Instead, Lucas walked into the ballroom at four-ten and stood in front of three hundred guests.
Sophie stood beside him.
They were not holding hands.
Lucas took the microphone.
“We are postponing the ceremony.”
The room erupted in whispers.
My mother remained seated at the front table.
Her face looked carved from stone.
Lucas continued.
“There are private family matters that need to be resolved before Sophie and I begin a marriage.”
Someone asked whether Sophie had changed her mind.
Lucas shook his head.
“This is my responsibility.”
That mattered.
For once, he did not blame me.
My mother left before he finished.
I stayed near the back with Alexander.
We were still raw from our argument.
I loved him.
I was also furious with him.
Both things could exist at once.
That was another lesson my family had never taught me.
The reception meal was served anyway.
Guests had traveled.
Food had been prepared.
Sophie insisted the staff should not lose their gratuities because the Bennetts were falling apart.
We sat at a small table near the ballroom doors.
Not the family table.
I chose it.
Halfway through dinner, my father approached.
He placed something beside my plate.
His wedding ring.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
“I’m leaving your mother.”
My heart sank.
“Dad.”
“I should have left years ago.”
“That isn’t something you say because of one bad day.”
He looked at me sadly.
“This wasn’t one bad day.”
He sat across from us.
“I knew enough to know something was wrong.”
“I kept telling myself Catherine handled the finances because she was better at it.”
“I kept telling myself she was hard on you because she wanted you independent.”
“I kept telling myself Lucas needed more.”
His voice cracked.
“Every excuse made my life easier.”
“Every excuse made yours harder.”
I had wanted an apology from him for years.
Now that it came, it did not repair everything.
But I listened.
“I’m sorry, Emily.”
I nodded.
“I believe you.”
His eyes filled with relief.
“That doesn’t mean I forgive you yet.”
The relief disappeared.
“I understand.”
That was the beginning of something more honest.
Before he left, he handed me a key.
My grandmother’s safe-deposit key.
“I found it in Catherine’s desk this morning.”
Alexander examined the number.
It did not match the box from his investigator’s report.
I looked at Dad.
“There was another box?”
He nodded.
“I think Margaret had two.”
The bank was closed.
We would have to wait until Monday.
My mother knew that too.
At eight-thirty that evening, Rebecca called.
May you like
Someone had just attempted to access the second safe-deposit box using an emergency authorization.
The name on the request was Catherine Bennett.
