519 Invitations Had Her Name, I Cancelled the Wedding novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Supper at the Rutledge House

Constance returns Della's $41,000 in a pre-signed check and offers a confidentiality agreement; Della keeps the check, refuses the paper, and Constance says Saturday goes ahead with or without her.

I went, because I wanted to hear what she would say.

Conroy followed the gray sedan in his truck, and I rode in the back seat with Constance's folded gloves between us.

She didn't speak the whole way, and she patted my knee once at a stoplight.

The Rutledge house had a brick drive and a dining room with a table for fourteen.

Tonight it was set for three.

The housekeeper took my coat.

Lacey was already sitting at the table with a cup of tea.

She stood up so fast her chair scraped.

Her eyes were red, and she was wearing the pale pink cardigan I had lent her in February and never asked back.

"Della," she said. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you so many times."

"Sit down, Lacey," Constance said gently. "Let her breathe."

Lacey sat.

She looked at the tablecloth and didn't pick up her tea.

I stayed standing.

"Where's Colin?" I asked.

"He's ashamed of himself, dear," Constance said. "I sent him to his father's old study to think."

"He can think in the same room as me."

"He will. Not tonight." She pulled out my chair. "Please. You've had a shock."

I sat.

The housekeeper brought soup, and Constance poured wine for the two of us.

Lacey said, "Just ginger ale for me, thanks," and the housekeeper nodded as though she had expected it.

I did not think about that.

I thought about the soup spoon in my hand.

"The printer made an error," Constance said. "These things happen. Someone in the shop mixed up two orders, and Colin was too embarrassed to say so."

"Five hundred and nineteen times," I said.

"Computers do that."

"The proof Colin signed in June says five hundred and nineteen. It says ship to Mrs. C. Rutledge. That's you."

Constance set down her glass.

Nothing changed in her face, and that was what I noticed.

"Conroy has been busy," she said.

"Conroy showed me a piece of paper. You're the one with the explanation."

She smiled at me.

It was a patient smile, the one she used on committee women who disagreed about flowers.

"Della, I'm going to be honest, because I've always been honest with you. My son made a choice that hurt you."

Lacey's head came up fast.

"Constance," she whispered.

"The situation," Constance said smoothly, "is delicate, and I would like it handled with dignity."

She reached into the leather folio beside her plate and slid two things across the cloth.

One was a cashier's check, and the other was a stapled document.

The check was for forty-one thousand dollars, made out to me.

It was already signed and already dated.

The document had my full name typed on the first line, Della Elise Schuler, under the heading "Confidentiality Agreement."

I picked up the check first.

"This was filled out before I got here," I said.

"I like to be prepared, dear."

"You knew I'd find the cards."

"I knew something might go wrong," she said. "I'm sorry it did."

Under the table, Lacey's foot was bouncing.

I folded the check once and put it in my purse.

Constance's smile widened a little.

Then I picked up the confidentiality agreement and held it in the air so she could watch me do it.

I put it back down beside her plate, unsigned.

"That's my money," I said. "I paid for the pavilion and the flowers and the food. You're returning it, and I'm taking it. That's all that's happening."

"And the other paper?"

"That's the one I'm not taking."

Lacey made a small sound.

It might have been a laugh or the start of a sob.

"Della," Constance said, and her voice was still kind, which made it worse. "I want to be clear about Saturday."

"There's no Saturday. I cancelled it. Forty people watched me do it."

"The pavilion booking is under your name. That's true." She folded her napkin. "But the guests are mine, and they have all been told. The flowers have been paid for and the caterer has been paid for, with your own money, which I've just returned to you so nobody can say I took it."

I stared at her.

"You can't hold a wedding without a bride."

"Of course not," Constance said. "There will be a bride."

Lacey put her face in her hands.

"You're welcome to attend as a guest, Della," Constance said. "In a nice dress, with your head up. People will admire you for it." She lifted her wine. "Or you can stay home, and nobody will mind. But Saturday is going ahead at three o'clock, with or without you."

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