Sylvie shook her head. “Not really. It was just my mom and I’s favorite. We watched it a thousand times together and always wanted to visit where it was filmed. I’ve been watching it to fall asleep at night. Not the healthiest coping mechanism, but—”
“That’s who the funeral was for?” he asked quietly. “Your mom?”
Swallowing hard against the unexpected lump in her throat, she nodded. “Yeah.”
He shrugged. “Then who cares? Do whatever you need to do if it helps. Everyone grieves in their own way, so do what’s good for you. Take up skydiving, shave your head, watch oldmovies until four in the morning so you can sleep—whatever. You’ve got my vote.”
His tone was light, and she found herself laughing with him toward the end—but there was an undercurrent of sincerity she couldn’t ignore.
She opened her mouth to respond, but the diner door opened and the bell jingled overhead, drawing her attention.
“Hey, Aunt Sylvie,” Lilly said as she approached. “Oh, yum. Can I steal a fry?”
“Of course,” Sylvie answered. “Where’s your mom?”
“On the phone.” Lilly hitched her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing outside. “She’ll be a minute. She just wants to grab a coffee before the meeting thing.”
Nodding, Sylvie glanced back at the guy behind the counter—the one who had made her laugh. “I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she said, offering her hand.
He paused a moment before taking it in his. “Damian. Nice to meet you.”
The bell jingled again, and Fiona swept into the diner looking pinched and demanding. “Is the coffee all right here?”
Chapter 8
Most of the meeting with the funeral directors was exactly what Sylvie expected—some practical details and a bit of back-and-forth on finalizing a few items. Her mom had prepaid for most of it, but a couple of last-minute requests came with a higher cost.
Who knew there was so much to organize for a funeral? She knew it was kind of a dumb question, but seriously—how much had changed in the almost seven years since her dad and Brett had died? Then again, she hadn’t really been involved in those arrangements. Fiona had made every decision about Brett’s side without consulting her or her mom, and her mom had just gone along with it to make the double funeral less of an ordeal. Something about it still irked her. But now, sitting here and answering endless questions, she could see how her mom might have welcomed Fiona’s no-holds-barred decision-making.
Mr. Phillips cleared his throat, demanding her attention. “Now, the cremation will proceed today as your mother requested. She completed nearly all parts of the planning booklet, but in the section for memorials, nothing was chosen or ruled out. I apologize that this was missed earlier, but we need to make a decision now, or there could be issues with the cemetery. I’ll leave you with this for a few moments.”
“Oh,” Sylvie said, taking the pamphlet from Mr. Phillips. “Right. Sure.”
Her jaw tightened as her sister-in-law let out a long, pointed sigh.Is Fiona seriously groaning and complaining right now?
The spark of annoyance energized her briefly but faded fast. She was justsotired.
Scanning through the options, her eyes started to glaze over. There were too many to focus on a single one long enough to read the description. So, she glanced at Fiona next to her, catching an expectant look on her face. “Sorry, I—”
“Wasn’t listening?” Fiona finished for her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Itdoes,” she replied, suppressing the urge to cover her face with her hands. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. I don’t even know why; it’s not like I’ve been running a marathon.”
“Sure you have,” Fiona said sharply. “Grief is exhausting. Don’t try to minimize it with your superior work ethic.”
Sylvie frowned, taken aback by the comment.My what?Lord, how does she make reassuring someone feel like a jibe?“I don’t…think that. I just wouldn’t expect to be this tired fromexisting.I just want a break from it all. Just for a few days.”
“Well, youcould. It’s not like you have a child to look after.”
Wincing, Sylvie redirected her attention to the pamphlet. She had never discussed her complicated history of having children with Fiona, and she was pretty surenothingcould make her do it now. But surely someone had brought it up to her over the years?
“No,” she replied quietly. “But regardless of what the lawyers say tomorrow, Idostill have to manage the inn. I know the whole business management thing isn’t really your—”
She’d only meant that Fiona had never run a business, so she wouldn’t be expected to know what went into it, but it was clear from Fiona’s expression that she had taken offense.
There really wasn’tanythingshe could say to Fiona that wouldn’t be taken as a barb.
“Did you really want her to be stored over at the cemetery?” Fiona asked. “That’s kind of far from the inn and…”
