Chapter 4: The Woman Who Had to Earn Her Place
Saylor Carter had never washed a champagne flute in her life.
By nine o'clock Saturday morning, she had broken two.
The first slipped from her fingers while she was arranging glassware at the reception venue. The second shattered when she tried to carry too many pieces at once, sending a sharp clatter across the catering station.
A server named Denise stopped beside her, holding a tray of folded napkins.
"Miss, if you keep gripping those glasses like they're trying to steal something from you, we're going to run out before the ceremony.""
Saylor stared at the fragments.
"I'm sorry.""
"Don't apologize to me. Get the broom. And don't touch the broken glass with your hands.""
Denise walked away.
Saylor remained frozen for a moment, heat creeping up her neck. Three weeks ago, she would have called her mother, complained about being disrespected, and left before anyone could tell her what to do.
Now her luxury credit account was closed. Her husband was sleeping in a friend's spare bedroom. Her mother had stopped answering most of her calls.
And Celina's wedding was tomorrow.
Saylor fetched the broom.
The reception venue occupied a renovated estate outside Atlanta, Georgia. Sunlight poured through enormous windows, illuminating cream-colored walls and polished wooden floors. The florist had arranged white roses along the staircase, while the event team positioned pink-and-gold centerpieces beneath the chandeliers.
At the far end of the ballroom, the restored antique wine tower stood ready beside the head table.
Saylor glanced at it every few minutes.
Its green shelves gleamed beneath the brass frame. Dorian had returned it to Celina two days earlier, and the family had carefully transported it to the venue.
The sight made Saylor's stomach twist.
She had expected the damage to be permanent.
Some selfish part of her had even hoped it would be. If the tower could never be restored, perhaps Celina would have to accept that the accident was over and done with.
Instead, the tower stood taller than ever.
And Saylor was cleaning glasses.
"You're thinking too hard," Denise said, returning with another tray.
Saylor straightened.
"I'm trying to do this correctly.""
"Then stop watching the tower and watch what you're holding.""
Saylor looked down at the tray.
"Right.""
Denise studied her for a moment.
"You're the bride's sister-in-law, aren't you?""
Saylor's fingers tightened around the tray's handles.
"Yes.""
"Well, I won't ask what happened. That's family business. But if you're here to help, help. If you're here to make everybody feel sorry for you, the door is right there.""
Saylor swallowed.
"I'm here to help.""
"Good. Then those napkins aren't going to fold themselves.""
For the next two hours, Saylor worked without complaining.
She arranged silverware, carried boxes of decorations, and helped an elderly florist secure a loose ribbon around a centerpiece. When she made a mistake, she corrected it. When someone gave her an instruction, she followed it.
Nobody applauded.
That was the hardest part.
At eleven thirty, she found Celina in the bridal suite.
Celina wore a silk robe over her undergarments, her natural curls gathered loosely away from her face. Bonnie sat beside her, sorting through a box of jewelry while Evelyn examined a small bouquet of white roses.
The restored wine tower could be seen through the open doorway.
Saylor stopped at the threshold.
"Celina?""
Celina turned.
For one brief moment, the sisters-in-law looked at each other without speaking.
Saylor held out a garment bag.
"The seamstress asked me to bring this up. Your reception dress is ready.""
"Thank you," Celina said.
Saylor waited.
Celina returned to the bouquet.
That was all.
No invitation to sit. No question about how she was doing. No comforting smile.
Saylor's fingers tightened around the empty hanger she carried.
"I wanted to ask whether there's anything else you need.""
Bonnie looked up.
"The florist needs someone to take the extra arrangements to the downstairs tables.""
"I can do that.""
"Then thank you," Bonnie said, and returned to her jewelry.
Saylor nodded and turned away.
She had made it halfway down the corridor when Celina spoke again.
"Saylor?""
She stopped so quickly that the hanger struck the wall.
"Yes?""
Celina approached her.
"Tomorrow, please don't approach me during the ceremony. I need to be present for my wedding, and I can't spend it wondering whether we're about to have another confrontation.""
Saylor's face fell.
"I won't.""
"And please don't try to explain what happened in front of the guests.""
"I understand.""
Celina studied her.
"Do you?""
Saylor lowered her eyes.
"Yes. I made your day about me. I won't do that again.""
Celina said nothing for several seconds.
Then she stepped aside.
"Thank you for bringing the dress.""
Saylor walked away before the tears could fall.
In the stairwell, she sat on the lowest step and pressed her palms against her eyes.
She had spent years believing that if she cried convincingly enough, people would soften. Her mother would pay the bill. Zebulon would apologize for upsetting her. Celina would surrender whatever boundary had made Saylor uncomfortable.
But Celina had not raised her voice.
She had not insulted her.
She had simply refused to give her what she wanted.
And somehow, that was worse.
Saylor's phone vibrated.
A message from Rosalind appeared on the screen.
Your account closure is final. If you need financial assistance, send me a written budget and proof of income. I will not pay for luxury expenses again.
Saylor stared at the message.
Then she typed, I don't need your money.
She deleted it.
She typed, You always choose everyone else over me.
She deleted that, too.
Finally, she wrote, I understand. I'll make a budget.
She pressed send.
It was the first honest message she had sent her mother in years.
That evening, the family gathered at Evelyn's house for a small rehearsal dinner. Saylor was allowed to attend, but her place was at the far end of the table, beside two distant cousins she barely knew.
She kept her hands folded in her lap while the others discussed flowers, music, and the wedding schedule.
When the conversation turned to the wine tower, she felt every muscle in her body tighten.
"That restoration was extraordinary," Evelyn said.
"Dorian found a way to preserve almost all the original brass.""
Zebulon glanced at Saylor.
She stared at her plate.
Celina smiled faintly.
"He said the frame was stronger than he expected.""
"Your father built things to last," Evelyn replied.
Saylor pushed a piece of food around her plate.
She could have said something.
She could have told them how ashamed she was, how she wished she could undo what she had done, how the sight of that tower made her remember the person she had become.
Instead, she remained silent.
For once, she understood that her guilt was not an invitation for the family to comfort her.
After dinner, Zebulon found her outside on the back porch.
The air smelled of freshly cut grass and the faint sweetness of the magnolia trees. Saylor stood beside the railing, her arms wrapped around herself.
"You're doing better today," he said.
She laughed without humor.
"I broke two glasses and got lectured by a woman who folds napkins for a living.""
"Denise has been running catering teams for twenty years.""
"Of course she has.""
Zebulon stood beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Saylor turned toward him.
"Are you coming home?""
He looked out at the darkening yard.
"I don't know.""
Her expression crumpled.
"Zeb, I apologized.""
"I heard you.""
"I'm trying.""
"I can see that.""
"Then why are you still staying somewhere else?""
He turned toward her.
"Because I need to figure out whether the marriage I thought I had is the marriage I actually have.""
Saylor gripped the railing.
"I love you.""
"I believe you.""
"Then what else do you want?""
Zebulon took a slow breath.
"I want to know whether you can love someone without needing to be the most important person in the room.""
Saylor recoiled as if he had struck her.
He immediately shook his head.
"Not physically. I'm not attacking you. I'm telling you what I've been afraid to say.""
She looked away.
"I didn't realize you felt that way.""
"You never asked.""
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Zebulon reached into his jacket and removed a small envelope.
"I found this in the mail at our house. It was addressed to both of us.""
Saylor frowned.
"What is it?""
"A notice from the bank. There's a balance on our joint credit account that I don't recognize.""
She took the envelope.
Inside was a statement showing several large purchases made over the previous six months. Designer clothing. Jewelry.
Hotel charges. Expensive dinners.
Saylor's throat tightened.
"Zeb, I can explain.""
He looked at her.
"Please tell me you didn't use our joint account to replace the money your mother stopped giving you.""
Saylor couldn't answer.
He closed his eyes.
May you like
Then he said the words that frightened her more than anything else he had said that evening.
"How much have you been hiding from me?""
