Chapter 17: Any Objections

"Let her wear it," Erin told the woman on the phone. "Charge the gown."

She hung up and met my eyes.

"She can walk down the aisle in my sixty thousand dollars," she said. "I want her to be warm in it."

At nine I stood in the venue manager's office at the Marlowe with the cashier's check on her desk.

The balance for the room, the food and the bar was fifty-eight thousand four hundred dollars, due before the ceremony.

Marlene's card had declined at seven that morning, and Dean's had declined at 7:05.

The manager looked at the check, then at the account name printed under the number.

"This is Mr. Clanton's account."

"It is," I said. "It also holds fifty-two thousand dollars of mine."

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she picked up her pen.

"Mr. Stancliffe," she said, "I've worked here for nineteen years. I've never once been glad to take a check."

She wrote me a receipt in my name.

I asked for one more thing, and she didn't ask why.

"The slideshow Mrs. Lansing ordered for the reception. 'Our Story.' It plays on the big screen after the vows."

"Yes?"

"Can my laptop run it instead?"

She looked at the clock, and at the receipt, and she nodded.

At ten Dean found me in the lobby.

He wore a gray morning suit and the grin of a man who had won something.

"There he is," he said. "The practical one."

He held out a plain white envelope.

I took it and counted the hundreds slowly while he watched, then folded it into my jacket.

"Ten thousand," I said. "On the nose."

"I told you." He clapped my shoulder. "Sit near the back, buddy. Bring the cousin. We'll all laugh about it at Christmas."

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