The number hung in the air between us like something tangible and heavy. $127,000. I thought of David, of our simple ceremony at city hall and dinner at his parents’ house. My forty-five-dollar dress. We’d been happy with that. We’d been happy, period. But times were different now, I reminded myself. And this was my granddaughter, my only granddaughter, the girl I’d helped raise when Avery and Taylor were “finding themselves” in their thirties, taking long vacations and pursuing their passions while I babysat and made meals and read bedtime stories.
I looked at the brochure again, at the fairy-tale venue, at the promise of a perfect day. “All right,” I heard myself say. “I’ll help.”
The relief that flooded both their faces was palpable and immediate. “Oh, Mom,” Avery said, standing up to hug me tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Sophie’s going to be thrilled.”
“You’re the best, Mama Amelia,” Taylor said, and for a moment, her smile seemed almost genuine.
“I’ll need to see all the contracts before I sign anything,” I said, the business side of me kicking in despite the emotional weight of the moment. “And I want to meet with the vendors myself.”