Chapter 12
Sherry leaned across the table, waiting for me to save her from the bill she had put in my name.
I looked at the hand she’d stretched toward me, then at the folder containing my original agreement.
“No,” I said.
Her hand lowered.
“Billie, I said I’d pay you back.”
“You also said you knew I required written approval. You copied my signature anyway.”
“I know.”
“Then you understand why I can’t lend you money against a promise tonight.”
Sherry’s cheeks colored. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m asking for a little time.”
“And I’m not offering either money or forgiveness. Not tonight.”
Beside me, Daniel closed the folder he’d been reviewing. He had listened without interrupting, but his expression had grown more serious.
“Mrs. Huitt’s answer doesn’t determine how Larks Hall handles its account,” he said. “We’ll make that decision from our records and the services provided. I can’t promise a particular legal outcome or decide a private agreement between family members.”
“Then what happens now?” Toby asked.
“Now, we separate what was originally booked from what was added later. We check what was actually delivered, what may still be changed, and what the paperwork shows about each request.”
Sherry sat straighter. The effort to make her voice sound composed only made it shake.
“We can still reduce things. The flowers, the extra courses—surely some of that can come off.”
Daniel glanced at his tablet.
“The flowers have been arranged and placed in the hall. The seafood station is open. The additional meal service is underway. Those charges reflect services already delivered or currently being delivered.”
“Then stop the rest,” Sherry said. “The desserts. Whatever hasn’t come out yet.”
“I can ask the event coordinator to identify anything not prepared or committed,” Daniel replied. “But removing an item from tonight’s schedule doesn’t automatically erase costs already incurred. I’ll show you what’s been delivered and what can still be stopped.”
Sherry stared down at the table. Her fingertips moved over its polished edge, tracing a small circle.
“I never thought it would be this much.”
“You signed the expanded orders?” I asked.
She looked up.
“No. I approved them.”
“That isn’t the same thing I asked.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I asked for them. I thought you’d handle the bill.”
“You knew I had said no additional charges without my written approval.”
“I thought once the party was happening, you wouldn’t let Toby’s birthday fall apart over money.”
There it was again: the old calculation. If Sherry made the choice and waited long enough, my love for Toby would be turned into permission.
I felt the ache of it, but I didn’t let it make the decision for me.
“His birthday isn’t falling apart because I won’t cover your expenses,” I said. “He’s in the next room, surrounded by people who love him. The party is happening.”
Sherry’s eyes moved toward the door. Beyond it, a wave of laughter rose from the Grand Hall, followed by the clink of glasses.
“I wanted it to be special,” she said.
“I know.”
“I wanted to give him what he deserved.”
“And I wanted to celebrate him, too. I booked the room, paid the deposit, and gave the chef Leon’s recipe. You took those things and made them part of an event where I wasn’t welcome.”
“I didn’t tell Toby to exclude you.”
“You removed my place from the chart.”
“I was trying to fit everyone.”
“You fit your boyfriend at Table One.”
She fell silent.
Toby pushed back from the table. The chair scraped against the floor, a sharp sound in the cramped room.
“I knew the party got bigger,” he said. “I knew Sherry was making changes. I didn’t ask about the money, and I didn’t ask whether Mom was coming.”
He looked at me.
“That was wrong.”
“I heard you say that already.”
“I know. I’m saying it again because it doesn’t stop being true just because I apologized.”
For a moment, I could see the boy who had once ordered chicken nuggets at Larks Hall and pretended he was a businessman. Then I saw the man who had told his mother not to show up.
“I’m not asking you to decide what we are to each other tonight,” he continued. “But I can help Sherry pay this. I have savings. I can take some of it.”
Sherry turned toward him.
“Toby, you don’t have to—”
“Mom,” I said, keeping my eyes on my son, “you can help her if you choose. That’s between you and her. But helping her pay doesn’t make the authorization true. It doesn’t erase what she did, and it doesn’t change what you did.”
“I understand,” he said.
“Do you?” The question came out quieter than I expected. “Because this family has spent years treating my silence as agreement.”
Toby’s face reddened. He didn’t look away.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I think I understood that you were hurt. I don’t think I understood how often I counted on you to make things easy for me.”
I folded my hands in my lap so nobody would see them tremble.
That was closer to honesty than I’d heard from him in a long time. It was not repair. It was only a first, uncomfortable fact placed where an excuse might have gone.
Daniel stood.
“I’ll ask our event coordinator for a service-by-service accounting,” he said. “We’ll keep the original booking separate from the later requests. The disputed authorization and Mrs. Lamb’s statement will remain in the event file. Nothing further will be charged to Mrs. Huitt’s card while the review continues.”
“Please put that in writing,” I said.
“I will.”
Sherry gave a tired laugh without humor.
“Everything has to be in writing.”
“After tonight,” I said, “yes.”
Daniel left the room. Through the door’s narrow window, I saw him speak to a staff member near the Grand Hall entrance. The celebration continued around them: a server carrying a tray, a guest gesturing toward the flowers, the warm glow of chandeliers over the tables. From where I sat, it was possible to mistake the night for exactly what Sherry had wanted everyone to believe—a flawless party made possible by her generosity.
But the door was closed now. In this room, no one could pretend a copied signature was a misunderstanding.
Sherry rubbed her forehead.
“I don’t have that kind of money sitting in an account,” she said. “I can pay something each month. I can sell the bracelet my sister left me.”
“That’s a conversation you’ll need to have with Daniel,” I said. “And you’ll need to have it based on the actual accounting.”
“You really won’t help at all?”
“I already did help. I planned the original dinner and paid the deposit. You can’t turn that into an obligation to accept everything else.”
She glanced at the birthday card beside my handbag.
“Did you write Toby something?”
“Yes.”
“Would you give it to him?”
“I haven’t decided.”
The answer seemed to hurt him more than a sharp rebuke would have. He took it without protest.
“Okay,” he said. “You don’t have to decide now.”
I slipped my thumb beneath the edge of the card but left it on the table.
The recipe card rested inside my bag. Don’t rush it. Do it right. Leon’s words had been meant for cooking, but they seemed to fit the whole room: the money, the apology, the family we had been before and the one we might or might not become.
Daniel returned carrying several printed pages.
“I’ve separated the original booking from the later changes,” he said. “This is a working statement, not a final determination of anyone’s legal responsibility. We’re still confirming the services and costs, but it should make clear what was included at the start and what was added.”
He placed the pages between us and turned the top sheet around.
The first section listed the original twenty-four-person reservation. Beneath it was the deposit I had paid.
The second section itemized the expanded guest count, the upgraded menu, the floral arrangements, and the additional services requested after the booking.
Daniel tapped the bottom of the page.
“Billie’s approved deposit is recorded here. The later requests are listed separately under the account history. The amount still under review is twenty-seven thousand three hundred dollars.”
Sherry stared at the separate columns.
May you like
Then Daniel placed a blank line beneath them and set a pen beside the statement.
“This is where we document the next step,” he said. “But I need to know whose name belongs on it.”
