Chapter 3 - THE WEDDING ACCOUNT
Logan did not leave immediately.
He spent twenty minutes trying to explain the difference between deception and “trying to make everyone happy.”
Abigail had heard enough.
“My mother wanted a bigger wedding.”
“You agreed.”
“She kept pushing.”
“You agreed.”
“I thought once you saw it—”
“I would magically want to spend seventy thousand dollars?”
“Ninety-two.”
Abigail stared.
“What?”
Logan closed his eyes.
Bernice said:
“Don’t.”
Too late.
Abigail turned.
“Ninety-two thousand?”
Logan nodded.
The Beaumont contract included the ballroom, catering, flowers, photography, entertainment, luxury transportation, and a four-night family suite package Bernice had selected.
Abigail almost admired the efficiency.
“Who was paying?”
Logan looked miserable.
“We were.”
“No.”
“You and me.”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Mostly you.”
There.
Abigail sat.
“How?”
Logan explained.
Or tried.
He had created a “wedding reserve” account six weeks earlier.
Joint in appearance.
Not legally joint.
Abigail’s name had been added as an intended contributor on vendor documents, but she had never authorized transfers.
She had deposited $11,000 into the original wedding account.
Logan had moved it.
All of it.
Into the new reserve.
Abigail felt cold.
“You moved my eleven thousand dollars?”
“I was going to replace it after the client contract closed.”
“What client?”
Silence.
“Logan.”
“The Mercer gala.”
Abigail knew that name.
For nine months Logan had described the Mercer gala as the contract that would change his career.
Corporate event.
Huge budget.
If his company secured it, Logan said he would earn a major bonus.
“Did your company win it?”
“No.”
“When did you know?”
“Three months ago.”
Abigail stared.
He had lied every week since.
The late meetings.
The optimistic speeches.
The promised bonus.
All of it.
Bernice interrupted.
“He was embarrassed.”
Abigail looked at her.
“And therefore entitled to steal from me?”
“I did not steal,” Logan said.
“You moved my money without permission.”
“I could return it.”
“Can you?”
Silence.
Another answer.
Abigail took out her phone.
“Open the wedding account.”
Logan’s face went pale.
“Now.”
He opened it.
Balance:
$1,842.
Abigail’s stomach dropped.
“Where is the rest?”
“Deposits.”
“Nonrefundable?”
“Some.”
“How much can we recover?”
“I don't know.”
She stood.
“You had better learn.”
Bernice pointed at her.
“This is exactly why Logan was afraid to tell you anything. Everything is money, money, money.”
Abigail stared at her.
“No.”
She gestured toward Logan.
“This is honesty.”
Bernice opened her mouth.
Abigail continued.
“If he had told me he lost a contract, I would have supported him.”
Logan looked up.
“If he had said he was struggling, I would have listened.”
Then:
“If he had asked whether I wanted a bigger wedding, I would have said no.”
Bernice scoffed.
“Exactly.”
Abigail almost laughed.
Consent apparently offended this family.
She called her attorney, Renee Walsh.
Not because she planned a lawsuit immediately.
Because eleven thousand dollars had been moved from an account in her name without authorization.
Renee asked one question:
“Does Logan have access to any other financial information?”
Abigail looked toward the hallway.
Her office.
Her deed.
“Yes.”
“Freeze credit.”
Logan looked horrified.
“You think I would steal your identity?”
Abigail answered:
“Yesterday I would have said no.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Not because she wanted pain.
Because truth sometimes should hurt.
She froze her credit.
Changed passwords.
Disabled Logan’s access to the smart lock.
Then she asked him to leave again.
This time he did.
Bernice followed.
But before walking out, she turned.
“You’ll regret humiliating my son.”
Abigail looked at the black mud across her floor.
“Take your bags.”
Bernice lifted them.
The cardboard box remained.
“What’s that?”
Abigail asked.
Bernice grabbed it too quickly.
“Nothing.”
A corner tore.
White envelopes spilled across the floor.
Wedding invitations.
Hundreds.
Abigail bent down.
The names printed at the top made her freeze.
Logan Gable & Abigail Prescott-Gable
Prescott-Gable.
She had never agreed to change her name.
But that was not the worst part.
At the bottom:
In celebration of the union of the Gable and Prescott families, guests are invited to contribute to the couple’s new-home fund.
New-home fund?
The address listed for gifts was not Abigail’s apartment.
It was a post-office box in Oakhaven.
Bernice’s town.
Abigail looked at Logan.
“What new home?”
His face lost all color.
Bernice stopped moving.
May you like
And Abigail realized the ten thousand dollars might not have been for the wedding at all.
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