The Three Calls
The next morning, I made three calls that would dismantle the entire plan Oliver and his mother had constructed.
First: the wedding planner.
“Sharon!” Melody chirped when she answered. “Big day tomorrow! Are we panicking yet?”
“No,” I said—cheerful enough to scare her. “But I’d like to add one feature.”
“Of course! What are we thinking?”
“I want to set up a voice-message booth. One of those ‘leave a message for the couple’ things. And also… a short montage. Something sweet to play before the first dance. A little surprise, you know?”
There was a pause while she processed this request.
“That’s adorable, hon,” she said. “That’s such a personal touch.”
“Isn’t it just?” I replied. “Can it be done by tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Consider it done and dusted.”
The second call was to my cousin Danny. He worked at a credit union and was trustworthy to a fault—the kind of man who understood that financial protection was a form of love.
