Chapter 4: The Deposit

The Harlow Inn had a glass terrace over the water where I was supposed to marry Brant on December 6.

On Saturday morning I stood on it with a folder under my arm and asked for the manager.

I had slept three hours in a motel off Route 1, with the cream envelope in my coat pocket.

I had not cashed the check. I did not plan to.

The manager came out in a gray blazer and shook my hand with both of his.

"Ms. Merrow. What a lovely surprise. We're finalizing the ceremony chairs."

"I'm here to cancel," I said.

His smile stayed where it was for a moment, and then it went.

"I see. Perhaps we should talk in my office."

"Here is fine."

A bridal party was seated at the long table by the window, six women in matching cardigans with a binder open between them.

They stopped talking.

"The deposits on the venue, the caterer and the band came to thirty-one thousand, four hundred dollars," I said.

I opened the folder and laid three bank transfer receipts on the nearest table.

"Every one of them came out of my account. I would like them back."

The manager looked at the receipts and did not touch them.

"Ms. Merrow, I understand you're upset. But the contract is in Mrs. Judith Thornquist's name."

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