“The venue needs $17,000 by tomorrow afternoon, or they’re canceling everything. I need you to transfer the money to me. Daniel’s father will repay you next month. He’ll even add interest.”
I sat in an armchair beside the fireplace.
“Please, Mom. I’m desperate.”
I waited a few seconds.
“Emily, you told me several days ago that your wedding was only for the closest people.”
She said nothing.
“You made it very clear that I wasn’t one of them. So why are you asking someone outside your close circle to finance the wedding?”
Silence stretched between us.
Then her tone changed.
“Mom, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t be petty right now. This is my wedding. We can talk about the guest list later. Right now, I need you to transfer the money.”
Then she said something that erased whatever guilt I still had.
“You have plenty sitting in your retirement accounts anyway.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“My retirement accounts are none of your concern.”
“Mom—”
“I’m not transferring $17,000 to repair a problem I had nothing to do with creating.”
“You can’t do this to me.”
“I’m not doing anything to you, Emily. You planned a wedding you couldn’t afford.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither was telling your mother she wasn’t important enough to attend.”
She started speaking over me.
I didn’t argue.
“Good luck with the vendors.”
Then I hung up.
Afterward, I opened my laptop and logged into my bank accounts.
If Emily was desperate enough to demand access to my retirement money, I wanted to make sure there were no forgotten connections between us.
I checked everything.
Then I called the bank and added an additional verbal password to my accounts so nobody could impersonate me over the phone.
I froze my credit.
Years earlier, when Emily was in college, I had added her to a small joint checking account so I could help with groceries and emergencies. I had forgotten it still existed.
There was about $400 left in it.