Beatrice acted completely normal. She called Walter twice about thank-you notes. She even dropped off a centerpiece she claimed she had “rescued” from being thrown away.
Meanwhile, Walter and I made lists. Every envelope. Every guest. Every amount people mentioned giving.
Slowly, the truth became clear.
She hadn’t taken a little.
She had taken a lot.
So we planned dinner.
Not just with Beatrice.
With everyone.
Walter’s aunt, his sister, cousins, my parents, and a few relatives who had been at the wedding.
