Chapter 5 - The Wedding Day Disaster
The day of Logan and Kelsey’s wedding was a beautiful, crisp Saturday. In Greenwich, at the historic chapel, the atmosphere was supposedly tense and miserable. My phone was flooded with updates from a few cousins who had taken my side.
The Venue: The beautiful outdoor terrace was sparse; half the floral columns were missing because the florist had pulled back her premium stock.
The Food: Instead of a five-course lobster feast, guests were served cold chicken breast and dry pasta from a hurried, local supermarket catering service.
The Gossip: Everyone was whispering. Diane’s friends kept asking where Holly and her "lovely little daughter" were. Diane had to repeatedly lie, claiming we had "a family emergency," but her tight, strained smile fooled no one.
But we weren't there to witness the disaster. We had our own plans.
Alex’s Royal CelebrationWhile Logan and Kelsey were exchanging vows in front of a half-empty chapel, the backyard of my sister Clara’s house had been transformed.
I had taken a fraction of the $53,000 I saved from the catering deposit and put it toward a party specifically designed for one person: Alex.
There were purple balloons everywhere. A local baker had created a three-tiered cake with a sugar sculpture of a little girl wearing purple glasses and holding a magic wand. We had hired a local theater group, and three "princesses" in full costume had arrived to serve tea and cakes.
Alex wore her white tulle flower girl dress. Her purple frames had been cleaned until they sparkled, and she had added three more star stickers to the sides.
“Mom!” she squealed, running across the grass as a princess in a blue gown bowed deeply to her. “They called me 'My Lady'! And they said my glasses look like magic crystals!”
Dean was sitting on a lawn chair, holding a camera. He wasn't taking pictures for a magazine or a social registry. He was taking pictures of his daughter laughing. Every time she spun, her purple glasses sliding slightly down her nose, he smiled and clicked the shutter.
“She looks perfect,” Dean whispered, pulling me close and wrapping an arm around my waist.
May you like
“She is perfect,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder.
For the first time in weeks, the tension in my shoulders completely melted away. The laughter of my daughter, surrounded by people who loved her exactly as she was, was the sweetest revenge I could have ever asked for.
