Eight days later, Natalie called. Her voice was cheerful and hurried. “Dad, we need the honeymoon money. Did you transfer it?” I stared out my kitchen window, confused. She explained that she and Brandon had booked Bali and needed $12,000 for the deposit. According to Brandon, I had promised to pay.

“I never offered honeymoon money,” I told her gently. I’d made my limits clear months earlier: I would pay for the wedding, and afterward there would be nothing more. Natalie suddenly became quiet. Then she admitted she hadn’t even opened the wedding cards yet. Mine was still sitting in a box in their car. I told her to read it when she was ready. That Sunday, she appeared at my door alone, wearing an old sweater that had belonged to Margaret. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and my cream-colored card was clutched tightly against her chest. Then she finally told me what Brandon had been doing.