When I questioned my daughter Pearl’s fiancé, Craig, she banned me from her wedding, thinking I was against her happiness. But I knew his true intentions, and with a secret recording, I attended to reveal his deceit, saving her from a terrible choice.
A quiet Saturday morning found me watering my geraniums and violets, plants that grew without demands, a solace as I neared 60 and faced more time alone. Pearl, my daughter, had her own world, and I longed for our old tea-fueled talks. The doorbell startled me. Pearl stood there, beaming, with a bakery box. “Hey, Mama!” she said, settling on the couch. She showed me a ring. “Craig proposed! Wedding’s next week!” I hugged her, but unease hit. “Next week?” I asked. Her smile faded. “Why can’t you be happy?” she snapped, leaving after a tense promise to include me.
The next day, Pearl invited me to pick flowers. The shop’s floral scent recalled her childhood gardening with me. Craig was there, his charm too practiced, his phone a constant distraction. He slipped away after a call, saying, “Back soon.” His stiff posture alarmed me. I followed and overheard him: “She trusts me. The money’s ours soon. I love you, Lillie.” My heart raced. He was scheming with someone named Lillie. I told Pearl, but she exploded. “You’re ruining everything!” she said. Craig denied it, and Pearl said, “Don’t come to the wedding.” I left, crushed.
That night, I lay awake, Craig’s words haunting me. Pearl thought I was the enemy, but I had to protect her. I found my brother’s old dictaphone, a relic from his reporting days. Evidence would speak louder than me. On her wedding day, I wore a simple blue dress, holding a gift bag. Pearl stood outside, stunning in lace but weary. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I need to be here.” She hugged me. “No more fights,” she whispered. I saw Craig, apologized for my accusations, and slipped the dictaphone into his jacket during a hug.
As Pearl walked the aisle, I noticed Lillie, a bridesmaid, whispering to Craig. When the minister asked for objections, I raised my hand. Gasps echoed. “Craig has something of mine,” I said, retrieving the dictaphone. I played it: “She’s falling for it. The money’s ours,” Craig’s voice said, then Lillie’s, “She won’t suspect.” Pearl’s bouquet dropped. Craig froze as guests murmured. He and Lillie fled. Pearl, tears streaming, came to me. “I was wrong,” she sobbed. I held her. “Love blinds,” I said. “I’m here.” The garden outside stood vibrant, promising we’d heal, united.
