Chapter 3 - THE PARTY BILL
My phone began vibrating before we reached home.
Dad.
Mom.
Dad.
Cousin David.
Mom.
Unknown number.
I ignored them.
Then a notification appeared from my business card.
DENVER EVENT HOUSE — $4,860.
That charge I expected.
Second:
MOUNTAIN TABLE CATERING — $6,742.
Expected.
Third:
ROCKY MOUNTAIN PARTY RENTALS — $3,191.
Expected.
Then:
VINTAGE VINE CELLARS — $2,840.
Not expected.
I had approved $1,200 for wine.
I parked in my driveway.
“Go inside.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Are you mad at us?”
The question punched straight through me.
“No.”
“You threw a plate.”
“I did.”
“Are you going to throw things here?”
“No.”
I got out.
Crouched beside her door.
“What I did was wrong.”
“But Grandpa—”
“I know what Grandpa did.”
I looked at all three.
“I should have gotten you out without throwing anything.”
Samuel asked:
“Are you in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
He nodded solemnly.
Children appreciate certainty even when the certainty is unpleasant.
I got them inside.
Food first.
Jacob ate two grilled-cheese sandwiches.
Samuel ate one and half a bowl of soup.
Rebecca said she wasn’t hungry.
Then stole half my fries.
Normal.
My phone rang again.
Mom.
I answered.
Her first words:
“What have you done?”
Not:
Are the children okay?
“What did I do?”
“Your father is bleeding.”
“Take him to urgent care.”
“He may need stitches.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“You assaulted your father in front of seventy people.”
“I threw a plate.”
“Oh, is that better?”
“No.”
She went silent.
I continued:
“I’ll cooperate if he reports it.”
That surprised her.
“Thomas.”
“What?”
“Come back and apologize.”
“No.”
“We can still save this.”
“What is this?”
“The family.”
I laughed.
“The children worked for four hours without lunch.”
“They had snacks.”
“You took Rebecca’s phone.”
“She was distracted.”
“You made Jacob wipe tables while teenagers filmed him.”
Helen’s voice hardened.
“Those boys were joking.”
“Did you stop them?”
“No answer.”
Then:
“You have raised children who think adults exist to serve them.”
I looked at the abandoned white aprons near my front door.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“I was about to say the same thing about you.”
She hung up.
Ten minutes later, I opened the family-support account.
The party charges were not the only new ones.
A $9,500 transfer had been initiated that morning.
Payee:
May you like
BENNETT FAMILY HOLDINGS LLC.
I had never heard of it.
