Chapter 3 - The Broken Contract
By Monday morning, the swelling in my fingers had subsided enough that they looked like pale sausages instead of purple balloons, but the throbbing had settled into a dull, unrelenting ache.
We were sitting at our kitchen island in South Minneapolis. The sun was bouncing off the frozen snow outside, casting bright, hard rectangles across our butcher block counter. Daniel had set a mug of chamomile tea in front of me with a straw, knowing I couldn't lift the ceramic mug without wincing.
On the counter between us sat my laptop and my legal planner for Juniper & Rose.
My phone—which I had unblocked only for work contacts—buzzed. It was an email notification.
Subject: *Formal Demand for Restitution and Public Apology.*
It was from Chase Holloway’s personal business account at Holloway Commercial Real Estate.
I clicked it with my left index finger. Daniel leaned over my shoulder, reading silently.
*Daniel & Audrey,*
*Given Daniel’s unprovoked physical assault on December 25th, I am giving you one opportunity to resolve this matter before I file an official report with the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Department.*
*1. Reimbursement for my damaged Tom Ford jacket ($3,450).*
*2. A written, signed apology delivered to Brooke and her parents by Friday.*
*3. Assurance that Audrey will fulfill her contractual obligations for the Holloway-Reynolds wedding on June 14th without further disruption.*
*Consider this an act of grace on my part. If Daniel refuses, my father’s legal team will proceed with civil battery charges.*
*Chase Holloway*
*Vice President of Acquisitions, Holloway Development*
I stared at the screen, a bizarre bubble of laughter rising in my throat. “An act of grace,” I whispered. “He pulled my chair out, broke my elbow, and calls suing us an act of grace.”
Daniel didn't laugh. He straightened up, walked over to the coffee maker, and poured himself a black mug. His movements were calm, deliberate, unhurried.
“He’s bluffing about the police,” Daniel said evenly. “He won’t file a police report.”
“Why not?”
“Because the moment he files a police report, I file a counter-report for reckless endangerment and battery causing grievous bodily harm. You have an emergency room record, radiological scans, and three witnesses who saw him deliberately yank the chair.” Daniel took a sip of his coffee. “Chase is an arrogant coward. He relies on people being too polite to punch back. He expects us to fold because your family always folds to him.”
“Look at point number three,” I said, pointing my clumsy left hand at the monitor. “*‘Assurance that Audrey will fulfill her contractual obligations for the wedding.’*”
Daniel’s eyes met mine. “Did you sign a contract with Brooke?”
“Yes. I always do. Even for family. It’s standard business practice.”
“Let me see it.”
I navigated to my cloud storage with awkward, left-handed clicks. I opened the file: *Holloway-Reynolds Wedding Floral Agreement.*
Daniel scanned the six-page document with the eye of a man who spent his career dissecting construction specifications and indemnity clauses. He stopped at page four.
“Here,” Daniel said, his finger tapping the glass. “Section 8. Force Majeure and Personal Incapacity. And Section 12. Client Conduct and Safety Clause.”
I remembered writing that clause three years ago after an intoxicated groomsman had knocked over an eight-foot floral arch at an event in Wayzata. It stated clearly that any physical hostility, harassment, or endangerment directed at the florist or her staff by the wedding party or their designated representatives immediately rendered the contract void, with all retainers forfeited.
More importantly, at the bottom of the invoice:
**Total Cost of Design, Sourcing, and Labor:** *$18,500.00*
**Family Discount Applied:** *-$18,500.00*
**Total Balance Due:** *$0.00*
I had offered to do the entire wedding—five hundred peonies imported from Holland, twenty custom centerpieces, cascading hanging installations for the ballroom at the Minikahda Club—for free. A gift that had taken four months of planning, dozens of supplier reservations, and hundreds of hours of design time.
“They’re treating you like an unpaid vendor while threatening you with a lawsuit,” Daniel said. His voice was cold, razor-thin. “Audrey, what do you want to do?”
For years, I had been the family shock absorber. When Brooke wanted the larger bedroom, I gave it to her. When Mom criticized my weight, I ate celery. When Chase called me the ‘flower girl,’ I forced a polite smile to keep dinner from turning sour.
I looked down at the bulky fiberglass splint locking my right arm at a ninety-degree angle.
The pain wasn't just in the bone. It was in my pride. It was in the realization that if I had died on that dining room floor, my mother’s primary concern would have been that the ambulance blocked the driveway.
“Open an email draft,” I told Daniel.
He sat down, his fingers poised over the keyboard. “Ready.”
“To: Brooke Reynolds, Chase Holloway, Elaine Reynolds, Robert Reynolds.”
I took a deep breath.
“*Dear Brooke and Chase. In light of the physical injuries sustained on December 25th, resulting in a fractured radial head and severe ligament damage requiring surgical intervention, Juniper & Rose is formally terminating the floral design contract for the Holloway-Reynolds wedding on June 14th pursuant to Section 12 of our agreement.*”
“Audrey,” Daniel said quietly, pausing. “Once this is sent, there’s no walking it back.”
“Keep typing,” I said.
“*All reservations with international floral wholesalers have been canceled as of 9:00 AM today. The floral designs, mood boards, and proprietary arrangements remain the intellectual property of Juniper & Rose and may not be used by another vendor without express written consent. Furthermore, regarding Chase’s demand for clothing restitution: any further communication from Chase Holloway or his representatives should be directed to our legal counsel. Do not contact my home or my place of business again.*”
Daniel finished typing. He looked up at me, a faint, proud smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Hit send,” I said.
The soft *whoosh* of the outgoing email echoed in the quiet kitchen.
We didn’t have to wait long.
Three minutes later, my phone lit up with a call from Elaine. Then Brooke. Then Elaine again.
Then the phone screen went dark as Daniel turned it face down on the counter.
May you like
“Now,” Daniel said, sliding his chair back. “Let’s get you dressed. You have an appointment with Dr. Henderson at eleven, and then I’m going to make sure nobody parks in front of your shop.”
***
