Chapter 5 - The Missing Check Envelope
The DJ's voice came back over the speakers too bright for the room. He'd been drawing out the introductions, filling time with laughter that didn't land.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention for just one more minute," he said, his hand hovering over his mixer. "We've got a very special presentation coming up. The family gift toast."
Michael went still beside me. Sabrina's fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute. The light from the chandeliers caught the lace on her shoulder and made it glow.
I kept my hand on the table near the note. The gray wig sat folded under my palm. My scalp felt cool in the warm air.
The DJ glanced toward our table, then toward the side door where the best man stood. Tommy, Michael's friend since high school, held a stack of white cards in his hand. He leaned in and whispered something I couldn't hear, and the DJ nodded too quickly.
"Let's — let's give the bride and groom another round while we get set up," the DJ said.
A thin scatter of applause moved through the ballroom. The servers had started the champagne pour. I could hear the bottles uncork, the soft hiss, the clink as glasses were lifted from trays.
Sabrina set her glass down. She hadn't finished it. She smiled at the older couple to our left, then pushed her chair back just enough to stand.
"Excuse me," she said quietly, to no one in particular.
I watched her walk to the gift table by the dance floor. The white card box sat there, wide and square with a slit on top, ribboned and already half full. Beside it the photographer was adjusting his lens, waiting for the moment they'd planned.
Sabrina bent over the box. She pretended to straighten the ribbon. Her hand slipped to the back slit and lifted the lid a half inch, peering inside. She shifted the envelopes with two fingers, checking sizes.
She was looking for the large cream envelope. The foundation one. The one Michael had told her would be thick enough to see from across the room.
She closed the lid carefully and smoothed the bow back into place. When she turned, her smile was still on, but her eyes found me immediately across the tables.
She walked back slow. Her heels made no sound on the carpet. She leaned down between Michael and me, her hair brushing my arm, her voice low enough that only our table could hear.
"It's not in there," she said to Michael. "Did Tommy lose it?"
Michael looked at Tommy, then at me. "Mom," he said. His voice cracked on the word. "Where's the envelope?"
The server reached our table then with the champagne bottle wrapped in a white napkin. He poured for Sabrina first, then for Michael. When he got to me, I put my hand over my glass.
"No, thank you," I said.
The server moved on. Around us, guests lifted their fresh glasses and looked toward the dance floor, waiting. The murmur grew louder. Someone near the back laughed nervously.
Michael leaned closer. "Mom, please. They're waiting."
I looked at him. I looked at Sabrina standing over us both, her dress pooling white against the dark carpet.
"I left the foundation check in the hotel safe," I said. I kept my voice even. "Upstairs. It isn't coming down tonight."
Sabrina's breath caught. She didn't repeat what I'd said. She straightened up and picked up her champagne, but she didn't drink.
Tommy took a step forward with his cards, then stopped when he saw Sabrina shake her head once, sharp. The DJ cleared his throat into the microphone.
"Okay, folks, looks like we're gonna hold that gift toast for a little later in the evening," he said. "In the meantime, let's raise those glasses to Mr. and Mrs. Hale."
Chairs scraped. Glasses rose across the ballroom. The light shifted as people stood, and for a second all I could see was the white of flowers and the glint of crystal.
May you like
Michael didn't lift his glass. Sabrina lifted hers high, her arm steady, her mouth set in the shape of a bride toasting her own wedding.
I sat with my hands in my lap, the note and the wig on the table in front of me, and let the room drink without me.
