Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“I’ll overlook it this time. I’m aware your job is stressful, and we all need a little space to take a break sometimes.”
At this, she appeared to relax. “Right, yes, that’s true.” She paused, biting her lip as her eyes turned sad. “I was devastated to hear about your father. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
I exhaled a short breath. “It’s been tough.”
“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.” We both knew she was the last person I’d confide in about my grief, but I was learning people needed to say those things when someone died. It smoothed over the awkwardness and discomfort.
With a soft smile, Hannah left my office, and I closed the door after her then dropped down into my chair with a sigh and powered up my computer. As I began checking things off my to-do list, my phone buzzed with several messages from Mam.
Sitting back, I rubbed at my temples and tried not to let the stress take over. My mother had been living in Spain for the last fifteen years. She was flying over for the funeral and would be landing tonight. Originally, it was planned that she’d stay with me at Dad and Leonora’s house, but since I’d been given my marching orders, she now had to stay with my sister, and she wasn’t pleased about it.
Despite having two daughters, Mam wasn’t exactly a “kid” person. She didn’t want to deal with children and staying in Frances’ small house with her husband and three girls wasn’t her first choice. As soon as I told her the change of plan, she’d proceeded to complain and hadn’t quit complaining since.
I loved my mother, but she was a sixty-year-old woman trapped within a twenty-one-year-old’s brain. No thought was given to the fact that Frances and I had just lost our dad. No, she was all about the inconvenience she would face sleeping on Frances’ couch. Maybe Dad’s alcoholism early in their relationship had stunted her maturity, or maybe it was simply her natural personality.
I sighed and scanned her messages. Seeing they were mostly complaints and nothing urgent, I didn’t reply. Normally, I had a little more patience for her theatrics. Despite my mother’s flaws, she’d been there for Frances and me far more when we were kids than Dad had been. But I was in too much inner turmoil. I didn’t have the energy to deal with her. Poor Glen, Frances’ husband, would have to listen to her when he picked her up at the airport tonight.
After a couple hours, I headed home. I spent the rest of the day packing up my belongings. There were a few items of furniture I was going to have to leave behind or try and sell because I had nowhere to store them while I found a new place. Everything else would thankfully fit in the back of my car.
The following morning, I put on my nicest black shift dress and styled my hair into a long braid. I did my makeup, but then something about how quiet the house was got to me. Dad and Leonora were gone. I’d never again see him sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and doing crossword puzzles in the morning. Nor would I hear Leonora in the living room, watching her talk shows. The stark fact had me bawling my eyes out. I had to wash my face and completely redo my makeup. The foundation managed to cover most of the red blotches, but it was still clear from my puffy eyes that I’d been crying.
When I arrived at the church, I was immediately accosted by my mother, who’d come with Frances and Glen. She wore a figure-hugging black coat, her skin glowing with a tan since her place in Spain was right by the beach. Frances and Glen decided not to bring the triplets to the funeral. They felt they were too young to understand what was going on.
“I swear I’m going to need to make an appointment with a chiropractor after what your sister’s couch did to my back last night. I hardly slept a wink.”
“If you want, you can book a hotel for the next few nights until you fly home,” I suggested without thinking. “I know Frances wouldn’t mind.”
“A hotel? And who’s going to pay for that? I’ve already spent a fortune on a last-minute flight.”
I sensed someone’s attention and searched the gathered attendees before I spotted Jonathan Oaks. He stood tall and proud by the entrance to the church, and oddly, the woman I’d met while visiting his investment firm stood next to him, the one with the kind blue eyes who’d helped me down the stairs. She placed her hand on his arm, as though in comfort, and I briefly wondered if she were his girlfriend. Then I spotted the vague resemblance. She must’ve been a relative of some sort.