The envelope contained one folded receipt and a note written in careful handwriting.
The receipt was for the ballroom, the flowers, the orchestra, and every meal placed before the guests.
At the bottom was a name.
Not the groom’s.
The old man’s.
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The bride’s mother stood, tears already moving down her face.
“He paid for all of this,” she said. “Because when my husband died, he promised my daughter she would still have the wedding of her dreams.”
The laughter disappeared so completely that even the candles seemed to hold still.