Her wedding gown was covered in delicate crystals, and her long veil flowed behind her.
Daniel looked at her with a smile I had not seen in years.
I watched them exchange vows.
I watched my son place the ring on her finger.
I watched them kiss beneath the floral arch.
And I cried.
I wasn't crying because I was sad.
I was remembering the little boy who used to run into the kitchen after school, the teenager who stayed up late talking with his father, and the young man who had held my hand at Robert's funeral.
I was proud of him.
When the ceremony ended, the guests applauded.
Everyone moved toward the reception hall.
The musicians began playing again, and the waiters served champagne.
I stood near the entrance, watching the guests enjoy themselves.
Then Tiffany approached me.
"Margaret, could you move a little?"
I stepped aside.
"The photographer needs this area."
"Of course."
She looked at my dress.
"Actually, could you stand farther away? The color doesn't really match the photographs."
I stared at her.
My dress was cream-colored.
Her wedding gown was white.
I couldn't understand what difference it made.
But I moved.
I didn't want to create tension.
A few minutes later, the wedding planner approached me.
"Mrs. Bennett, the bride would like you to join the family photographs."
I followed her toward the staircase.
Daniel was standing beside Tiffany, surrounded by her parents and relatives.
I stepped into the group.
Tiffany frowned.
"Where have you been?"
"Over there."
"Well, we need to finish quickly."
Daniel leaned toward me.
"Are you okay, Mom?"
I smiled.
"Of course."
The photographer raised his camera.
"Everyone, look this way!"
But before he could take the photograph, Tiffany turned toward me.
"Margaret, I need to tell you something."
The photographer lowered his camera.
The guests began looking at us.
I blinked.
"What is it?"
Tiffany folded her arms.
"You've been making everything difficult today."
I was confused.
"I have?"
"Yes. You're constantly hovering around us. You keep trying to insert yourself into everything."
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
"Tiffany, maybe we should take the pictures first."
"No, Daniel. I'm tired of pretending."
She turned toward me.
"This wedding is not about you."
I felt my face grow warm.
"I know that. I've never said it was."
"Then stop acting like you're the most important person here just because you paid for some things."
The words struck me harder than I expected.
I looked at Daniel.
He lowered his eyes.
I waited for him to say something.
Anything.
But he remained silent.
Tiffany stepped closer.
"And another thing. Your constant reminders about how much you sacrificed are embarrassing. Nobody asked you to spend that money."
I swallowed.
"I never asked anyone to thank me."
"Really? Because that's exactly how you behave."
The ballroom became quiet.
I could hear the musicians playing softly in the background.
I looked at the flowers.
The decorations.
The expensive champagne.
Everything I had paid for.
Then I looked at the woman standing in front of me.
I suddenly understood that she had never seen me as Daniel's mother.
She had seen me as a convenient source of money.
I took a slow breath.
"Tiffany, I don't want to argue with you on your wedding day."
She laughed.
"Then perhaps you should have learned that before coming here."
Daniel finally spoke.
"Mom, please. Let's not make a scene."
I turned toward him.
I had never heard him speak to me like that.
Not once in thirty-four years.
And somehow, that hurt more than Tiffany's insults.
I nodded slowly.
"You're right, Daniel."
I placed my untouched glass on the table.
"I won't make a scene."
Then I reached into my handbag and took out my phone.
Tiffany watched me.
"What are you doing?"
I opened my contacts and found the number of the wedding coordinator.
I pressed call.
"Hello, Margaret," she answered. "Is everything all right?"
I looked directly at Tiffany.
"No," I said quietly. "Everything is about to change."
The coordinator sounded confused.
"I'm sorry?"
"I need you to come to the main ballroom. Please bring the venue manager and the complete list of outstanding services and payment arrangements."
There was a pause.
"Is there a problem with the wedding?"
"Yes. I want all additional charges connected to my account placed on hold until the original agreements have been reviewed."
Tiffany's smile disappeared.
"What?"
I continued speaking.
"Please don't process any further payments under my authorization without contacting me directly."
Then I ended the call.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Tiffany stared at me.
"What did you just do?"
"I made a phone call."
"Did you cancel something?"
"I asked the coordinator to review the arrangements."
She stepped closer.
"You cannot do that!"
I looked at her calmly.
"I can withdraw authorization for additional charges I haven't approved."
Her expression changed.
"You are not going to ruin my wedding because you can't handle a little criticism."