Frank swallowed. “He said he realized he wasn’t ready. He said he was sorry. He said he’d work something out about the money.”

The money. Frank had spent almost every dollar of his retirement savings on White Oak Manor, because his only daughter had once mentioned, when she was seventeen, that she dreamed of getting married beneath the oak trees there.

Tyler had promised to pay half. Three weeks before the wedding, he’d claimed a commission check was delayed, and Frank had covered the balance.

“It’s just money,” Frank said quickly. “Forget about that.”

“No.”

“Maddie, I can earn more.”