Chapter 8 - A Name on the Receipt
Mara gave me my suitcase and a printed folio for the catering charge.
“I need you to understand something,” she said. “Our payment desk believed your family had permission. Your father provided the card information and said you were covering the balance.”
“Did I sign anything?”
“No. He signed the event payment acknowledgment.”
The receipt displayed a manual payment at 9:41 p.m. My father had signed his own name beneath a line labeled 'Cardholder authorization provided by client.' At 9:41, I had been in an emergency department with a brace cut open around a swollen knee.
Mara watched me read it.
“I should have required you to verify it directly,” she said. “I've already reported it to our director. We will cooperate with the card issuer.”
I wasn't interested in turning a staff mistake into an excuse for what my father had done. The venue had a contract with the couple and their families. My employer did not.
Across the office, Greer took a call from an attorney named Nina Sloane. No relation to my sister, thank God. Nina had agreed to speak with me that afternoon, but she wanted one thing done first.
“File a police report about the fall and the card,” Greer relayed. “Facts only. Don't guess about anyone's motives.”
My father walked into the doorway before I could fold the papers.
His gaze landed on the receipt.
“You weren't supposed to see that,” he said.
I stared at him. “You used a card belonging to my employer.”
“I was going to replace the funds. The final invoice came due, and you can afford to carry it for a few days.”
“It's not my money.”
He looked genuinely irritated. “Must everything be so technical with you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Especially this.”
May you like
He held out his hand for the receipt. I tucked it beneath my leg instead.
For once, I wasn't going to let him decide which paperwork mattered.
