Say Forever(52)

"Then who gave it to them?" I ask.

"They probably found it," Mom mumbles as she slips her checkbook back into her purse.

"Who leaves a cotton candy container lying around?"

Mom doesn't look at me as she fiddles with the zipper on her purse, and I wonder if maybe she's starting to have doubts, too.

"Ma'am, I'm not supposed to say anything, but I think there's something you should know."

I narrow my eyes at the demure middle-aged woman behind the counter. She looks ready to disappear behind her black-rimmed glasses as she makes a quick sweep of the room.

"What?" my mom and I ask in unison.

She scans the room one more time and then leans forward. "Nora Richards dropped the ball on two weddings this month."

My jaw practically hits the counter, and my stomach sours—as if it needs any more incentive to rebel after this morning's turkey bacon and low fat granola. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the entire bridal party and guests show up to the wedding and there's nothing." Her eyes bug out, magnified by her thick lenses. "No caterer, no cake, and nobody booked the hall."

My mom clutches the leather straps on her purse until her knuckles whiten. "Why would she do that?"

The clerk's lips purse as she pushes the rim of her glasses up her nose. "Rumor has it her husband is getting the planning business in the divorce and she's trying to run it into the ground first."

The color drains from my mom's face. "Omigod." She stumbles back.

I grab her by the elbow and lead her to a nearby sofa. "Mom, are you okay?"

She mumbles something about finding her phone as she tears through the contents of her purse. "I need to call the hotel. Hang on." She taps the screen with shaky fingers. "I'm looking them up."

I sit on the edge of the chair beside her, waving away the clerk when she offers us champagne. "Hi. I'm calling about the Duval-Cruz wedding on February first. We should have the Grand Hall booked for that night." Mom rubs her hand down her face while she waits for a response. "What do you mean you don't have it listed?" Her spine stiffens as her voice raises several octaves. "Our wedding planner, Nora Richards, should have booked it. Martinez family reunion  ? No, that's not correct. It should be the Duval-Cruz wedding." Another long pause, and I swear I see my mom's youthful face age before my eyes. "Well, do you have another hall? You're booked until May? We can't wait that long." She throws her phone back into her purse and buries her face in her hands. "What are we going to do?" she cries.

I move over to the sofa and wrap my arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

She pulls a tissue out of her purse and dabs the corners of her wet eyes. "I can't believe Nora would do this to us."

Oh, but I can, I think to myself. But it's a little too late for the "I told you so," so I keep my opinion to myself.

"I'll call around." She sniffles and then blows her nose into the tissue. "There's got to be another banquet room in San Antonio. If not, didn't you say Andrés's aunt had offered her ranch?"

I make a face. "I don't think that offer is on the table anymore."

Mom shoots me a questioning glance.

I look away, pretending to pick imaginary grime out of my fingernails. "Long story." I don't want to drag my mom into my conflict with Tia. I fear it will only make things worse. Besides, I get the feeling Tia would either say no or make us grovel at her feet before she'd consent, and I already know the stipulation would include no painted flower bridal gown.

"I should have listened to you about Nora." Her lower lip trembles as she wipes her eyes again.

I exhale slowly as I summon the courage to tell my mom exactly how I feel. This conversation has been a long time coming. "I don't need a grand hall to make it special. Mom, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm actually kind of glad this happened."

A look of shock crosses her features. "What? Why?"

"Because, mom, I'm just not happy with the direction of this wedding." I take her hand in mine and squeeze while searching her gaze. The hurt in her eyes makes my chest tighten, but still I go on. I was meek and mild for the first twenty-one years of my life. Even though I know it's not my mom's intention to make me a doormat, I refuse to be stepped on any longer. "It's supposed to be about Andrés and me, and it isn't."

Her hand goes limp in mine, and she slumps in her seat. "I just wanted your wedding day to be special."

I squeeze her hand tighter. "I know you do, and I appreciate all you're doing. I really do. I know that you feel guilty about all of those milestones you missed when I was growing up. I know you're trying to make it up to me now, but if you really want to make my wedding special, then let me have the wedding I want."