Chương 7
“Maybe.”
A phone began ringing from somewhere inside the service corridor.
Marcus’s radio crackled at the same time.
One of the assistant managers came quickly from the back hall.
“Richard.”
Dad turned.
The man looked uncomfortable.
“There’s a woman downstairs at the employee entrance claiming she left her purse in the private room.”
My stomach tightened.
Marcus glanced toward the table.
Linda’s purse was gone.
Dad’s expression did not change.
“Is she alone?”
The assistant manager nodded.
“It’s Mrs. Whitmore.”
Daniel stood so abruptly his chair tipped backward.
“She came back?”
Dad caught the chair before it hit the floor.
Marcus touched his radio.
“I’ll have security keep her downstairs.”
“No,” Dad said.
Everyone looked at him.
He set the chair upright.
“Don’t tell her we know she’s there.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why?”
Dad looked toward the dark corridor leading to the offices.
“Because I want to know what she came back to get.”
Marcus looked at Dad for a moment, then nodded once and touched his radio.
“Keep her in the lower corridor and tell her someone is checking the private room.”
The assistant manager hesitated.
“What if she tries to come upstairs?”
“Don’t physically stop her unless she enters a restricted area.”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“Does your mother know the layout of this building?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She’s only been here as a customer.”
“Has she ever attended an event upstairs?”
“A charity lunch last fall.”
Marcus frowned.
“That used the second-floor ballroom.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Which puts her near the administrative hall.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You think she’s looking for an office?”
“I think she did not drive back here at this hour because she suddenly remembered a purse she carried out herself.”
My mother pulled my jacket tighter around her.
“This is becoming very strange.”
“It was strange when she threw the wine,” I said.
Mom gave me a look.
“You know what I mean.”
Daniel was already calling his father again.
Howard answered on the second ring.
“Dad, did Mom say anything before she left?”
He listened.
“What exactly?”
More silence.
Daniel looked toward us.
“She asked him whether he still had the building access card.”
Dad’s expression changed.
“What building?”
Daniel held up a hand.
“Dad, which building?”
He listened again.
“The Clark Street property.”
Dad swore under his breath.
I had heard him swear perhaps six times in my life.
That got my attention more than anything else.
“What is Clark Street?”
“One of the buildings Howard’s firm manages.”
“And?”
Dad looked at Marcus.
“Bellamy Event Services has offices on the fourth floor.”
Mom straightened.
“The wedding company?”
“Yes.”
Daniel lowered the phone.
“Dad says she asked for his card two days ago.”
“Did he give it to her?” Marcus asked.
Daniel spoke into the phone again.
A second later, his face answered before he did.
“Yes.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Howard’s voice came faintly through the speaker.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“He thought she needed to drop off paperwork for the reception.”
I stared at him.
“Our reception?”
Daniel nodded.
Mom said, “Paperwork does not require someone else’s access card.”
“No,” Dad said.
Marcus spoke quietly into his radio again.
“Lock the second-floor administrative corridor.”
Dad looked at him.
“Without alerting her.”
“I’ll tell them there’s an electrical issue.”
Daniel ended the call and stared toward the service hallway.
“What could she possibly want?”
Dad did not answer.
I saw the answer forming behind his eyes and hated it before he spoke.
“Wedding files.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about them?”
“The event company keeps contracts, vendor details, guest numbers, payment schedules.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why would any of that matter now?”
“It may not.”
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“There are also internal account notes.”
The room seemed quieter again even though the dining room was functioning normally around us.
“What kind of notes?”
“Client communications.”
I understood first.
“Complaints.”
“Sometimes.”
“Requests.”
“Yes.”
“Changes.”
Dad nodded.
I thought of the seating chart.
The invitation mock-up.
The repeated phone calls Linda had made to the event staff without copying me.
The times she told me something had been changed because the venue required it.
“Can she see those?”
“Not without access to the office system.”
“But paper copies?”
Marcus answered.
“Event coordinators print working files for active weddings.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Daniel looked between us.
“What are you saying?”
I stared at him.
“She may have been making changes directly.”
“To what?”
“To everything.”
He shook his head.
“No, she wouldn’t.”
The words left his mouth automatically.
Then he stopped.
None of us had to point out the obvious.
His mother had thrown wine into my mother’s face less than an hour earlier.
The limits of what she would or would not do had become unreliable.
Dad pulled out his phone.
“Who is Emily’s coordinator?”
“Jasmine Ortiz,” Marcus said.
Dad called her.
She answered after several rings, sounding groggy enough that I felt guilty immediately.
Dad apologized, asked whether she was somewhere she could speak privately, and then put the call on speaker.
“Jasmine, this is Emily.”
There was a pause.
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Is everything okay?”
“No,” I said.
“Did Linda Whitmore contact you about our wedding without Daniel or me included?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
My stomach sank.
“Jasmine?”
“Yes.”
Daniel sat down slowly.
“How many times?” I asked.
“Emily, I’m not sure I should discuss client notes over the phone.”
“I am the client.”
“You and Mr. Whitmore are the contracted clients.”
Daniel leaned toward the phone.
“I’m here.”
Jasmine exhaled.
“Then yes.”
Dad’s voice stayed calm.
“How many times?”
“I’d have to check the file.”
“Approximately.”
“More than ten.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel whispered, “Jesus.”
Jasmine continued carefully.
“Mrs. Whitmore said she was acting with your approval on some family-side details.”
“What details?”
“Guest placement, menu substitutions, floral changes, photography access, vendor arrival times.”
I opened my eyes.
May you like
“Photography access?”
“She requested that the photographer not enter the bridal preparation suite until after you were dressed.”
