“Sylvia, sweetheart…Ifeeluneasy.”
She gasped. “Oh, Mom. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
Her words faltered, and she dropped the medication on the floor as she crossed the room. All thoughts of the inn and losing her inheritance vanished like smoke in the wind. The moment she sat on the edge of the bed, her mom pulled her in for a tight hug, and the tears began to fall.
Chapter 4
Sylvie was doing it again.
Sitting on the chair at the end of the hallway, looking at the door to her parents’ bedroom as if it might suddenly give her answers. Or maybe, waiting for it to swing open and for her mom to step out into the hallway so she could realize this whole thing was just a horrible, morbid daydream. Or perhaps, she would wake up, and this was just a good old-fashioned nightmare.
She knew, of course, that wouldn’t happen.
Her mom was gone.
But…what if she wasn’t? Sylvie wondered.If Mom hadn’t really died two days ago and she actually stepped out into that hallway, then we could go downstairs, have coffee, plan the day, and get started on our errands.
“Aunt Sylvie? Are you okay?”
Lilly’s quiet voice interrupted Sylvie’s train of thought, causing her to blink rapidly as she turned to see the teenager, who was watching her with a gentle sadness that twisted a pang of pain in her chest.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t see you there,” she said, sniffing and trying to smile. “I must have drifted off a little. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
The girl held out a small packet of tissues. “Here, from my stash.”
Sylvie took the packet and smiled as she poked her nail through the “tear here” instruction. “Thank you, Miss Lilly. I’m sorry I’m so…”
Pausing, Sylvie gestured at her face before locking eyes with her niece. The appalled expression on the teen’s face made her laugh.
“Uh…no?” Lilly said. “You don’t apologize for your face—like, ever. But double don’t do that when you’re literally crying because something sad happened. It’s allowed.”
“Is it?” Sylvie tried to find some lightness, but she knew she was failing even as she spoke.
“Obviously,” Lilly said.
“I think I’m supposed to be the grown-up and keep it all under control around you. So you can see that everything is all right,” Sylvie replied, a small smile on her lips. “Then cry in private.”
The teenager rolled her eyes, leaned her back against the wall, and slid down it so that she was sitting on the floor with her knees bent in front of her.
“First of all—it’s not airtight. Grandma died, and that’s not all right. You being sad is, though. Second of all, you are actually in private—or is that sign on the Family Wing door lying?”
Realizing that her niece actually expected an answer, Sylvie shook her head. “No, it’s not lying.”
“Good. You’ve maintained my youthful trust in posted signage,” Lilly said sarcastically. “And third of all—who says you should crush your own feelings about your mom dying and force them into a little box so that, what? You can pretend for ten minutes that you don’t care? So you don’t upset me?”
Sylvie winced as Lilly spoke, but she tried to hide it as best she could. Who was she to tell this kid, who had lost her dad so young, that she couldn’t say words like dead or dying just because they made it too real for her?
“I don’t know, honey.” She shrugged pathetically. “I guess it’s just what’s expected of adults.”
“Pfft. What a crock.”
Against her will, a small laugh escaped, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“What?” the teenager asked.
“You’re just…so poetic,” Sylvie replied, dropping her hand and doubling down her efforts on tearing open the impenetrable tissue packet. “I’m just glad you got here in time to visit with her. You know how much she loves you being—”
She had lost control of her sentence long before her throat constricted painfully around the idea of talking about her mom in the present tense, and tears streaked down her face. “Why do they make these packets so—” she complained through the tears as she pulled hard on the plastic that refused to budge.
