Chapter 12 - The Reception
Caroline could have ended it in the signing room.
She didn't.
Michael's comment about Susan changed the equation.
If her mother was involved, Caroline needed more than anger.
She needed the entire room to hear what came next.
The reception began at six.
Champagne.
Music.
Speeches.
Laughter.
Michael behaved as though nothing had happened.
That was his talent.
He smiled for photographs.
Held Caroline's waist.
Kissed her temple.
Whispered that they would discuss the paperwork later.
Margaret watched constantly.
At seven twenty, Lena texted Caroline.
We have enough for financial conspiracy. Need anything linking Vale to Thomas.
At seven thirty-five, Charles Harper gave a speech.
He spoke about Michael as a boy.
About family.
About second chances.
Caroline watched Margaret instead.
She looked bored.
At seven forty, Susan approached Caroline.
"Are you all right?"
Caroline forced a smile.
"Why?"
"You look like you're at someone else's wedding."
Caroline almost said, I might be.
Instead she asked, "Mom, did Dad ever talk to you about Adrian Vale?"
Susan's champagne glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
There it was again.
Fear.
Everyone knew this man.
Everyone except Caroline.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Michael."
Susan looked toward the groom.
"What did he say?"
"That I should ask you about Dad."
Susan's face went pale.
"Caroline, come with me."
"Why?"
"Now."
Caroline followed her toward a side corridor.
Before they reached it, Margaret stepped into their path.
"Susan."
The women looked at each other.
Something old passed between them.
Caroline felt it.
Susan's voice became cold.
"Move."
Margaret smiled.
"This isn't the place."
"The place for what?"
"You know."
Caroline looked between them.
"You two know each other."
Neither answered.
"Not wedding-mother know each other. Before."
Susan grabbed Caroline's hand.
"We're leaving."
Margaret laughed.
"Bit late for that."
Caroline turned.
"What does that mean?"
Margaret's smile widened.
"You signed."
"No."
For the first time all evening, Caroline allowed herself to enjoy something.
"Martin has the license."
Margaret's smile disappeared.
"He hasn't filed it."
Color drained from her face.
"What?"
Michael appeared behind them.
"What did she say?"
Caroline looked at him.
"You aren't married to me."
The words struck him harder than a slap.
Michael stared.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The license hasn't been filed."
"You signed it."
"I did."
"Then we're married."
"No."
Michael looked at Margaret.
Margaret's face had become terrifyingly still.
"You stupid girl."
Susan stepped between them.
"Don't speak to her like that."
Margaret snapped, "This has nothing to do with you."
Susan laughed once.
"It has everything to do with me."
Caroline looked at her mother.
"Explain."
Susan's eyes filled with tears.
"I can't here."
"Why?"
"Because there are people in this room who shouldn't hear it."
Caroline looked around.
Nearly two hundred guests.
Some laughing.
Some dancing.
Some already noticing the tension.
Then Caroline saw him.
At the rear of the ballroom.
Gray suit.
Silver tie.
The man from Evelyn's photographs.
He was watching.
Caroline's heart hammered.
"There."
Susan followed her gaze.
Her face collapsed.
"Oh God."
"You know him."
Susan whispered, "Caroline, don't look at him."
Too late.
The man's mouth curved into the faintest smile.
Then he walked toward the exit.
Lena moved from a side table to follow.
Michael saw her.
"Who is that woman?"
Caroline didn't answer.
He looked from Lena to Caroline.
Understanding arrived.
"You've been investigating me."
Caroline faced him.
"You forged my signature."
Michael's face twisted.
"You've been spying on me?"
"Yes."
"You psycho."
Margaret hissed, "Michael, shut up."
But he had spent three years controlling the temperature of every argument.
Now he couldn't.
He grabbed Caroline's elbow.
"You set me up."
She pulled free.
"No."
Her voice became loud enough that nearby guests turned.
"You set me up."
Michael's hand reached again.
Caroline saw the microphone at the bandstand.
The speeches weren't finished.
The father-daughter dance had not happened.
The cake had not been cut.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Caroline walked toward the band.
Michael followed.
"Caroline."
She kept walking.
"Caroline, stop."
She reached the microphone.
Michael caught it first.
"Do not embarrass me."
Caroline stared at him.
May you like
Then she snatched it from his hand.
And the wedding died.
