Chapter 15 - THE EMPTY SEAT AT THE REHEARSAL
Z
Two months later, the Bennett Grand hosted another wedding rehearsal.
This time, Nathan was the groom.
He hated rehearsals.
“Walk. Stand. Say words. Kiss woman. How complicated is this?”
Emma stared at him.
“You nearly walked into the wrong ballroom ten minutes ago.”
“All ballrooms look alike.”
“This hotel literally belongs to your fiancée.”
“Technically her company owns it.”
Emma pointed.
“You're becoming her.”
Nathan looked horrified.
Catherine, standing nearby, smiled.
“I heard that.”
The wedding would be smaller than people expected.
Eighty guests.
Family.
Friends.
Employees who had become friends.
No politicians.
No investors invited solely because they were powerful.
No magazine exclusive.
Catherine had rejected an offer large enough to make Nathan sit down.
“People pay that much for wedding photographs?”
“They pay for access.”
“That's worse.”
Tonight, chairs lined the restored ballroom.
White flowers bordered the aisle.
At the front stood three seats.
Nathan frowned.
“There are supposed to be two.”
The wedding planner froze.
Catherine looked at Emma.
Emma suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Nathan walked closer.
One chair for Catherine's father.
One for Laura's mother.
And between them, an empty chair.
On it rested a small framed photograph.
Laura.
Nathan stopped breathing.
The photograph showed her laughing at Lake Michigan.
The same picture from his dresser.
He turned toward Emma.
“Was this you?”
She nodded.
His voice came rough.
“Why?”
Emma walked closer.
“I thought Mom should have a seat.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Catherine stayed exactly where she was.
She did not approach until Nathan looked at her.
“Did you know?”
“Yes.”
“You okay with this?”
Catherine's face softened.
“Nathan.”
He waited.
“Laura isn't competition.”
The sentence almost broke him.
Catherine came closer.
“She loved you. She gave you Emma. She helped make the person I'm marrying.”
Nathan looked toward the empty chair.
“I worry sometimes.”
“About what?”
“That loving you means I'm betraying something.”
Catherine took his hand.
“You loved Laura until the end of her life.”
“Yes.”
“You aren't required to make it the end of yours.”
Emma began crying.
Nathan glanced at her.
“You started this.”
“I know.”
“Now you're crying.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Catherine laughed.
Nathan pulled Emma into their arms.
For a moment, all three stood in the aisle beside the empty chair.
The rehearsal eventually continued.
Henry Bennett arrived twenty minutes late.
He sat quietly.
Since the board meeting, he had remained in Cincinnati.
He and Catherine had begun having breakfast once a week.
The conversations were not magical.
Some ended badly.
One ended with Catherine leaving before the food arrived.
Another ended with Henry admitting he had not known Catherine hated golf for twenty years.
Repair, Nathan had learned, looked much like woodworking.
Remove damaged material.
Preserve what remained.
Never pretend a crack had not existed.
Later that evening, Nathan found Henry alone near the staircase.
“You're staring at my work.”
Henry touched the restored railing.
“You did this?”
“My crew.”
“Catherine says you refuse preferential contracts.”
“She complains?”
“She sounds proud.”
Nathan leaned against the wall.
Henry looked toward the ballroom.
“I wasn't a good father.”
Nathan said nothing.
“I thought providing was the same thing.”
“Common mistake.”
“You make it?”
“Different versions.”
Henry nodded.
After a moment, he asked, “Are you frightened?”
“Of marrying Catherine?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
Henry looked surprised.
Nathan smiled.
“Marriage should scare you a little. You're giving somebody the power to hurt you without meaning to.”
“Unromantic.”
“You raised Catherine.”
“Fair.”
Henry looked toward the empty chair.
“I never met Laura.”
“No.”
“She must have been remarkable.”
“She was.”
“And Catherine?”
Nathan looked through the ballroom doors.
Catherine stood beside Emma, helping adjust a flower arrangement that needed no adjusting.
“Also remarkable.”
Henry nodded.
“Strange.”
“What?”
“That loving one doesn't seem to diminish the other.”
Nathan looked at him.
“No.”
Henry's eyes lowered.
“I spent years believing affection was a limited resource.”
“That explains a lot.”
Henry laughed.
A real laugh.
Nathan understood where Catherine got hers.
Before leaving, Henry handed Nathan a small wooden box.
“What is this?”
“Open it tomorrow.”
Nathan frowned.
“Is it money?”
“No.”
“Then okay.”
Henry almost smiled.
At midnight, the ballroom emptied.
Emma went home with her grandmother.
Nathan walked Catherine to her suite.
They had agreed not to spend the night together before the wedding.
Emma had called the tradition “statistically meaningless but emotionally adorable.”
Outside Catherine's door, Nathan kissed her.
“Last chance.”
“To escape?”
“Tradition.”
Catherine looked at him.
“You've offered me an exit before every important moment in our relationship.”
“I believe in emergency doors.”
She smiled.
“I'm staying.”
“Good.”
Nathan kissed her again.
Then walked away.
Inside the suite, Catherine removed her shoes and found an envelope beneath the door.
No return address.
Her stomach tightened automatically.
For months, anonymous envelopes had meant Richard.
Threats.
Leaks.
Documents.
She opened it carefully.
Inside was a single handwritten note.
Ms. Bennett,
You probably don't remember me.
My father was Michael Dorsey.
Catherine stopped breathing.
The note continued.
I heard you are getting married tomorrow.
Before you do, there is something about my father and what happened years ago that I think you deserve to know.
Catherine sat down.
Her hands began shaking.
At the bottom was a phone number.
And one sentence.
May you like
You were wrong about him.
But you were not wrong about everything.
