Chapter 4 - The Cancelled Caterer
The ledger was still open on my kitchen counter when the morning light hit it. I hadn't moved it since the night before. Three years of payments in my handwriting, the coffee ring on the corner from last December, the little check marks where I'd paid in full. I stood there in my gray cardigan with my hands around a mug gone cold and realized I was waiting for someone to tell me I was overreacting.
No one called that morning. That was the point.
I pulled the folder from the drawer under the phone — caterer contract, church hall volunteer sheet, the receipt for the deposit. My name was on all of it. Not his. Not hers. Mine. Ellen from Holy Family had penciled me in for the twenty-third, same as every year, 9 to 2, set up tables and fold programs. I'd always said yes before anyone else could say no.
I dialed the caterer first. My fingers knew the number.
"Marino's, this is Tony," a man answered, kitchen noise behind him.
"Hi, Tony, this is Carol Jensen," I said. "I'm calling about the Christmas Eve party for the twenty-fourth. Under my name."
"Oh sure, Mrs. Jensen. We've got you for forty people, same menu as last year?"
I swallowed. "I need to cancel it. And reclaim the deposit."
A pause. A pan clattered. "Cancel entirely? Your brother-in-law called last week to add six chairs —"
My stomach tightened. "My brother-in-law?"
"Man in blue shirt, said he was family. I told him only the name on the contract can change it. That's you."
I closed my eyes. Mark. Of course Mark had added people without asking who paid for the chairs. "Then only I'm canceling it," I said. "Please process the refund to the card on file."
"You sure? We're five days out. There's a fee —"
"I'm sure," I said. "Process what's left."
He typed something. "Okay... done. You'll see three-eighty back in three to five days. Sorry to lose you."
I wrote CANCELLED across the contract in black ink. My hand didn't shake. That surprised me.
I called Ellen next.
"Carol! Thank God," she said. "We were counting on you for the —"
"Ellen, I have to step back this year," I said. "I can't fill the volunteer slot on the twenty-third."
Silence. Then, "Are you sick? Because Linda can bring you —"
"I'm not sick. I just can't do it. I'm staying home for Christmas."
"Oh," she said, quieter. "Well. That's... okay. We'll figure it out."
I thanked her and hung up before she could ask me to find my own replacement. I always found my own replacement.
The house was too quiet after that. I folded the white cloth napkins from my own dining room and put them in a drawer. I wasn't going to need forty of anything.
The phone rang at four-twelve. Mark's name lit up the screen. Blue button-down Mark, who hadn't looked at me once while I sat at that little table.
I let it ring twice before I picked up.
"Carol," he said, no hello. "Marino's just called Lisa. Said you canceled."
Lisa. The blonde woman in the dark blazer. So she was already fielding calls.
"I did," I said.
"What the hell? You can't cancel Christmas Eve five days out. People have flights."
"The contract was under my name," I said. "The deposit was my money."
He breathed out hard through his nose. "Fine. Fine. I'll put it back under my card. Just tell me what sides you're still bringing so Lisa doesn't double up. And the balance — are you covering the balance like last year? We'll pay you back after."
There it was. The assumption, smooth as ever. That I would still pay, still cook, still show up with foil pans in my trunk while being told not to come.
I looked at the wreath on my own window. Small. Mine.
"I'm staying home as asked," I said.
"What?"
"You all decided I'd ruin it if I came to the big table," I said. My voice stayed level. "So I'm staying home."
"That was lunch talk," he said. "You know how Lisa gets. Don't be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic," I said. "I'm doing what you asked."
May you like
He started to say my name again. I didn't wait for the rest.
"I have to go, Mark," I said, and ended the call calmly before he could turn it into another vote.
