Curtis, who thought a wedding could disguise insolvency.
“Deb,” I said, “he’s going to crash.”
“He’s already airborne over the cliff.”
Then she added, “Also, Uncle Roy is invited.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Curtis thinks Roy still has old connections with Tanaka. He’s padding the guest list with anyone who looks useful.”
That night, I made roast chicken and invited Roy over.
“So,” I said casually, pouring wine, “you got invited to a fancy New York wedding.”
Roy groaned.
“That weasel sent me a gold-embossed invitation thick enough to stop a bullet.”
“You should go.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Because Curtis is trying to use you.”
“Obviously.”
“And because it might be funny.”
Roy’s eyes twinkled.
“You’re up to something.”
“No,” I said. “I’m staying far away. But someone should observe.”
Roy laughed.
“I do love a train wreck.”
“Just promise me one thing. Don’t tell him about Nana’s house. Don’t tell him where I live. Just say I’m doing great.”
Roy lifted his glass.
“I’ll tell him you’re queen of Sheba if I want.”
A week before the wedding, Deborah called again.
This time, her voice was electric.
“Sit down.”
“What now?”
“The pregnancy is fake.”
The studio went silent around me.
“What?”
“My friend works high-end retail. Tiffany had a fitting for her reception dress. When she changed, no bump. Flat as a board. Then she pulled a silicone belly from her bag and strapped it on.”
My stomach turned.
“No.”
“Yes. My friend heard her on the phone bragging. She said after the wedding she’ll have a ‘tragic miscarriage’ and Curtis will be too emotionally trapped to leave.”
I pressed a hand to my mouth.
Even though Curtis had gutted me, the thought made me sick.
The lie was grotesque.
Not just cruel to him.
Cruel to every woman who had ever truly lost a child.
“Are you going to warn him?” Deborah asked.
I thought of the bill in peppercorn sauce.
The sentence about old cooking oil.
The divorce rushed to make room for a fake dynasty.
“No,” I said. “He wanted a shark. Let him swim.”
On the night of the wedding, I sat in my restored Oregon living room under a knitted blanket, tea in one hand, popcorn in the other, watching Deborah’s livestream from the Plaza.
The ballroom looked obscene.
Crystal chandeliers.
White roses.
Ice swans.
A string orchestra.
The kind of luxury that sweats when the check is bad.
Curtis looked handsome from a distance, but Deborah zoomed in. His face was pale. His smile tight. Sweat shone at his hairline.
Tiffany walked down the aisle in a dress that looked like it had swallowed a chandelier. Her tiara flashed like a weapon. One hand rested on a perfect rounded bump beneath the bodice.
“Performance of a lifetime,” I whispered.
They kissed.
Guests clapped politely.
The Tanaka delegation clapped exactly three times each.
At the reception, Uncle Roy sat two tables from the investors, wearing a tuxedo too tight at the shoulders and three whiskeys too many in his bloodstream.
“Oh no,” I breathed. “Roy.”
The speeches began.
The best man was halfway through a joke when Roy leaned toward Mr. Henderson, the banker who held Curtis’s business loans.
“You know Wendy?” Roy stage-whispered.
Curtis stiffened at the head table.
“Roy,” he called, forcing a laugh. “Let’s not bore everyone with ancient history.”
“Ancient history?” Roy stood, swaying slightly. “Boy, that girl paid your bills while you were still begging investors for coffee money.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Curtis’s face reddened.
“Security,” Tiffany hissed.
“I’m just saying,” Roy boomed, “you tossed out a good woman like garbage. Funny thing about garbage. Sometimes it turns out to be gold.”
My heart pounded.
“Roy, don’t,” I whispered to the screen.
But Roy was already smiling.
“Nana Rose left Wendy a little present.”
Curtis froze.
“What present?”
“A trust fund.”
The ballroom changed.
People leaned in.
Curtis laughed weakly.
“Wendy doesn’t have a dime.”
“That’s what you thought,” Roy said. “Five million dollars.”
Silence fell so completely I could hear Deborah breathing through the livestream.
Curtis’s face drained of color.
“Five million,” Roy repeated. “And she got access the day you divorced her. If you’d stayed married, maybe you’d have seen a penny. But you dumped her, so she got it all.”
Curtis stared like a man watching a winning lottery ticket burn in his own hand.
Then Mr. Henderson stood.
“Mr. Stone,” he said calmly. “Since we are discussing finances, perhaps this is a good time to address your emergency loan extension.”
Curtis looked trapped.
“This is not the place.”
“A wedding paid for with a check that bounced this morning feels like precisely the place.”
Gasps erupted.
Tiffany’s mouth fell open.
Mr. Tanaka and his delegation exchanged glances.
Henderson opened a file.
“Your company is overdrawn by four hundred thousand dollars. Your credit lines are exhausted. Your personal cards are maxed. You represented that significant assets would enter the marriage through your fiancée.”