“I wanted this wedding because I thought it would prove I had won. My father always treated Daniel like he was beneath us. I thought if I had the dress, the ballroom, the guests, then no one could look at me that way again.”
Margaret looked at her.
“And did it work?”
Tiffany’s eyes lowered to the ruined hem of the gown.
“No.”
The answer held no performance.
Margaret felt some of the hardness in her chest loosen.
“Your father taught you to measure safety in expensive things.”
“He taught me to measure love that way.”
“Daniel learned to purchase it.”
Tiffany closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Margaret did not touch her.
“Being sorry does not repair what happened.”
“I know.”
“But it can be where you begin.”
Tiffany looked at her then.
“Will you press charges against me?”
Margaret considered the question.
“I will give the police a complete statement.”
Tiffany nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“The slap was not fair.”
“I know.”
“You need to understand the difference between accepting consequences and asking someone else to carry them.”
Tiffany’s eyes filled.
“I do.”
Margaret walked away.
At the front entrance, the venue manager was waiting with her coat.
He helped her put it on, then handed her a small envelope.
