Three Buses And A Father’s Pride, All Pushed To The Spare Table Chapter 01

Three Buses And A Father’s Pride, All Pushed To The Spare Table Chapter 01

Two hours before the wedding was supposed to start, my father Russell Benson walked into the hotel after a few bus transfers from Millbrook County.

He was wearing the same old suit he’d kept at the bottom of his closet for over a decade—cuffs faded white, but his dress shoes polished to a high shine.

The father-of-the-bride corsage on his chest had taken him several tries to pin straight, using the hotel’s glass door as a mirror.

When it was time to sit, he clutched his place card and walked carefully up to Caleb Vance.

“Caleb, did they put me in the wrong seat?”

Caleb barely glanced at it before pushing the card back.

“No. 　　The family table is full. You’ll need to sit at the side table.”

My father froze.

“But this says family table…”

Caleb frowned.

“Last-minute change. Everyone here today is a Vance Group shareholder or a major client. The family table isn’t for just anyone.”

My father looked down at his old suit and slowly tucked the place card back into his pocket.

He tried to take off the corsage, but the pin caught on the fabric.

The more he rushed, the more his hands shook.

Patricia Vance spoke up, her tone flat. 　　“Russell, a seat’s a seat. Don’t make things hard for the kids.”

My father nodded quickly. 　　“Sure, sure. I can sit anywhere.”

He picked up the old hope chest from beside his feet and headed for the extra tables in the very back corner.

I looked up and saw Chloe Whitmore’s whole family’s place cards sitting right at the head table, front and center.

Caleb was personally helping Chloe’s mother to her seat.

And my father—holding my wedding gift—sat down right next to the service door to the kitchen.

***

I was about to walk over to Caleb when the wedding coordinator hurried up with the run sheet.

“Mr. Vance, the groomsmen need to line up.”

Caleb nodded, adjusting his cuff links.

That’s when I saw the person standing next to him.

It wasn’t my brother Leo.

It was Dylan Whitmore. 　　Chloe’s younger brother.

He was wearing a groomsman’s suit with a white boutonniere pinned to his chest.

That boutonniere—I’d put it in Leo’s gift box myself last night.

When Leo tried on his suit, he was so nervous he didn’t know where to put his hands. I laughed at him, and he just held that boutonniere for a long time, staring at it.

He said, “I’m not gonna embarrass you tomorrow, Clara.”

Now it was pinned to Dylan.

Dylan patted his chest and smiled, completely at ease.

“Looks good, right? Caleb said it fits me better.”

I looked at Caleb. “Where’s Leo?”

“Had to make a change.”

“Why?”

“Your brother’s too awkward. I need guys who can handle themselves in front of all the Vance Group shareholders and clients.”

I didn’t look at Dylan. I kept my eyes on Caleb.

“So you replaced my brother?”

He dropped his voice.

“The ceremony’s about to start. Don’t make a thing out of something this small.”

Something this small.

I turned and walked to the green room.

Leo sat in the corner of the couch. His groomsman suit was gone. He was just wearing his old white button-down, the cuffs starting to fray.

He saw me and shot up, hiding something behind his back.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

I walked over and pulled his hand out. The gift box was empty.

Where the boutonniere should have been, there was only a bent safety pin.

Leo looked down. His ears turned red slowly.

“Caleb said plans changed. Told me not to go up.”

He paused, then added, “It’s fine, sis. I was scared I’d mess it up anyway.”

His voice was so quiet.

Like he was afraid I’d hear how much it hurt.

Dylan’s laugh came from the doorway.

“Not everyone’s cut out to be a groomsman. You’ve gotta look the part.”

Leo’s fingers curled.

Caleb stood by the door. He didn’t look at Leo. He looked only at me.

“Dylan’s young. He runs his mouth. Don’t take it personally.”

I said, “Leo’s two years younger.”

Caleb was quiet for a second. Then he checked his watch.

“Clara, it’s almost time.”

Leo grabbed my sleeve. “Clara, stop.”

His palms were sweating.

My father rushed in, forehead beaded with sweat, still holding that old hope chest against his chest.

The corsage was already off, shoved into his pocket with just a sliver of red showing.

“Clara, did Leo do something wrong again?”

Leo shook his head fast. “No, Dad.”

My father forced a smile at Caleb.

“Caleb, Leo doesn’t know any better. He doesn’t have to go up. He can sit down there too.”

Then he looked at me. 　　“Clara, this is your big day. Don’t let us hold you up.”

Us. Not him. Not Leo.

Us—the ones who weren’t good enough.

A hotel worker walked in and pointed at the hope chest in my father’s arms.

“Mrs. Vance said this doesn’t belong in the lobby. We’re moving it to the back.”

My father’s arms tightened. 　　“You can’t move this.”

The worker looked at Caleb.

Caleb frowned. 　　“Take it. Don’t block the way.”

My father’s lips moved. 　　“This is Clara’s wedding gift.”

Caleb glanced at the chipped corner. 　　“Get it after the ceremony.”

My father lowered his head and slowly let go.

When the worker took it, the corner of the chest banged against the doorframe.

A heavy thud. 　　My father’s whole body flinched.