He looked toward the newlyweds.
Then he saw me.
**His entire expression changed.**
He walked directly across the ballroom and stopped beside me.
I leaned toward him.
“Please proceed with the instruction we discussed.”
He nodded.
My son’s face went pale.
**“Mom… what instruction?”**
I looked at him.
Then at his bride, whose fingers were still covered in frosting.
And the hotel manager stood waiting for my instructions.
His name was Adrian Cole.
He had managed the Grand Ashford Hotel for nearly fifteen years.
And unlike my son, he knew exactly how much of that wedding I had paid for.
“Mrs. Porter,” Adrian said quietly, “would you like me to explain the arrangements?”
“Yes, please.”
Cassandra gave an exaggerated laugh.
“What arrangements? Is she ordering a cleaning service for her dress?”
Several guests shifted uncomfortably.
Adrian didn’t smile.
“Mrs. Vale, the remaining services billed to Mrs. Porter’s account are being reviewed according to her instructions.”
Cassandra frowned.
“Her account?”
Michael stepped forward.
“Adrian, what’s going on?”
The manager looked toward me.
I nodded.
He turned back to my son.
“Your mother is the authorized payer for several major portions of this reception, including the venue and catering arrangements already provided, and certain optional services scheduled for later this evening.”
