“Yes. I do.”
“Because of this?”
“Because I already decided before you walked in. This only confirmed why.”
Priscilla’s eyes flashed. “So you’re punishing all twenty-three people because you’re angry at me?”
“No. I’m declining to host an event I did not plan.”
“Where are we supposed to put everyone?”
“That is a question for the person who invited them.”
Priscilla turned toward Dean, expecting him to intervene.
He did, but not in the way she wanted.
“You need to call them tonight,” he said.
Her expression hardened. “You call them.”
“No. You sent the invitations. You tell them the location changed.”
“To where?”
“Our house, if we can make it work. Or we tell people the truth and make it smaller.”
“The truth?”
“That we planned something we could not afford.”
Priscilla stared at him as though he had betrayed her.
Sylvia recognized the look. She had seen versions of it directed at cashiers, waiters, contractors, and once at a school secretary who had refused to waive a late fee. Priscilla could tolerate inconvenience only when someone else was available to carry it.
Dean saw it too.
“I’m not asking Mom to fix this,” he said.
The front room became very quiet.
Priscilla snatched her coat from the chair. “Fine. Enjoy your principles.”
She walked out and closed the door hard enough to shake the wreath.
Dean did not follow.
Sylvia looked at him. “You should go home.”
“I know.”
“You should also decide whether you are upset because she used my card or because now you have to deal with the bill.”
He flinched.
“That was unfair,” he said.
“Was it?”
