Three Buses And A Father’s Pride, All Pushed To The Spare Table Chapter 05

Three Buses And A Father’s Pride, All Pushed To The Spare Table Chapter 05

The whole room went dead silent. Then whispers broke out everywhere. That’s when Caleb grabbed my wrist.

“Have you lost your mind?” His jaw was tight, his voice the lowest I’d ever heard. “Do you know how many people are here?”

I pulled my hand back.

Patricia stood up from the head table. Her smile was gone.

“You don’t plan a wedding and then just cancel it,” she said, ice in her voice. “The venue, the catering, the guests—none of that’s free. Can your family even afford to cover it?”

My father’s face went pale as he stood up from the corner. “Now, hold on—”

A waiter pushed a cart past him from behind.

He stepped aside. One small step. Hardly anyone noticed it. But I saw. At his own daughter’s wedding, he didn’t even have room to speak.

Chloe walked up with red eyes. “Clara, if it’s because of me, I’ll leave right now.”

She looked at Caleb, her voice shaking.

“Don’t do this to Caleb. Don’t embarrass him like this.”

Caleb stepped in front of her.

“This has nothing to do with Chloe.” I laughed.

—

It was fine that my dad got sent to the kitchen door. Fine that my brother got replaced. Fine that the hope chest got thrown next to trash. Fine that he thanked his first love’s family on stage.

But Chloe couldn’t be embarrassed.

My father came to the edge of the stage and looked up at me. “Clara, calm down.”

“I’m ok. Really.”

The more he said it, the more it hurt.

Patricia Vance’s voice was ice. “Even your father has more sense than you.”

“You make a scene like this and can’t even explain yourself—how is Vance Group supposed to show its face after this?”

My father lowered his head.

“I’ll pay for it,” he said, so quietly, like the words cost him everything.

“Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it back. Slowly.”

Leo’s head snapped up. “Dad!”

My father shot him a look.

There was no authority in it. Just panic.

A back-of-house worker ran in.

“Mrs. Vance, the old hope chest—the latch broke. There are papers falling out.”

—

Patricia smiled coldly.
“Since you treasures it so much, why don’t we take a look?”

My father pressed his hand against the chest, his knuckles white.

“No need to look.”

“It’s for Clara. Not for anyone else.”

Dylan Miller snorted. “What’s in there, a bunch of old blankets?”

Leo shouted at him, “Shut up!”

Caleb’s voice went sharp. “Leo, watch yourself.”

Leo’s eyes were red, but he didn’t back down.

I walked off the stage and went to my father.

He looked at me, eyes frantic.

“Clara, don’t look at it. Nothing special.”

I took his hand.

Rough. Cold. The cut on the back still wet.

“Dad, open it,” I said.

I looked at Patricia Vance, then at Caleb.

“They’re not looking down on the chest. They’re looking down on you.”

My father’s eyes turned red.

—

He was quiet for a long time. Then he let go.

The latch was broken. The lid came right up.

On top was a soft red baby jacket, faded from washing.

The one I wore as a kid for holidays.

Next to it were old photo albums, each wrapped carefully in plastic.

Beneath that, a waterproof bag.

I opened it.

The sale contract for the family home on Maple Lane.

Bank statements.

A debit card with my name on it.

And at the bottom, a handwritten list.

My father’s handwriting wasn’t pretty. But each stroke was careful.

House sale proceeds. [Savings. For Clara to keep.]

Total: three hundred twenty thousand dollars.

The whole room went quiet.

Patricia Vance’s expression froze.

Dylan Miller shut his mouth.

My father kept his head down.

—

“I’m not much,” he said.

“I sold the house so you’d have something.”

“If things ever get bad, having money in your pocket means you can keep your head up.”

Then he added, “I can live anywhere. Don’t worry about me.”

I put the debit card back in his hand.

“Dad, this isn’t a wedding gift. This is my way out.”

Patricia forced a smile. “Well, it seems Russell came prepared. This was all a misunderstanding.”

Caleb softened his tone. “Now that that’s cleared up, let’s continue.”

I looked at him. “You still think I’m waiting for you to give me a way back in?”

His face dropped. “You walk out that door, and Vance Group’s deal with Thompson Industries is done.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Rick Thompson’s number.

“Did you forget?”

“I’m the one who closed that deal for you.”