“I knew you’d be supportive.” Her dusty-rose lipstick has worn to a ring around the edges of her mouth. “I’d love for you to supply some samples of your perfume.”
I stare at her, the dinging of some game coming from the couch, and she mistakes my look for interest instead of shock that she’s trying to do business at Waipo’s funeral.
“It’s a good opportunity for you to build awareness for your little shop. We have an extremely discerning clientele for the luxury gift bags,” she says. “I was thinking of asking your mother, but when I mentioned it to Eric, he said you needed it more.”
“I bet he did,” I mutter, wondering how many times she can sayluxury gift bags. Well, Kelsey is family. “Email me the details, and we can work out a discount rate.”
“Discount?” Her smile fades. “I thought you would do it for the visibility. Sophie, watch your brother. We supplied the Trantor Art Gallery opening, and the bridesmaid-proposal boxes and gift bags for Olivia Carlwood’s wedding. This is a chance for you to get your product in front of people who matter.”
I have no idea what or who those are, but I do know I don’t have the capacity to negotiate this at my grandmother’s funeral. “We can talk when you send me the details,” I say firmly. “Oh, excuse me, there’s someone I should speak to.”
“Sure, sure. This is a great turnout,” she says. “I’ll be in touch.”
I slip away and am in the corner eating a tasteless sandwich, the edges of the bread already drying out, when my brother comes up. “Lot of people,” Eric says.
It’s the third time he’s said a variation of this since the event started, so I only nod.
“She left everything to Mom,” he continues, eyes scanning the room. “Not a penny to you or me.”
I don’t want to talk about this here, but if I shush him in any way, Eric will go ballistic. It’s easier to play along.
“Kind of to be expected, don’t you think?” I ask.
“I need the money.”
“We all need money.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one with actual responsibilities.”
I ignore that. “There wasn’t much,” I remind him. “It mostly went into Yixiang to support the business.”
“Like everything in this fucking family.”
“Not cool, Eric.”
“Hey, I tell it like it is.”
Maybe I can keep my temper by reminding myself that grief is causing him to act out like this. “Most of the value of her estate was in the heirlooms. The Qianlong vase is worth thousands.”
“Wasworth.” He plucks the white chocolate macadamia-nut cookie off my plate and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He’s always stolen my food.
“What do you mean, was?”
“It’s gone.”
My head whips up. “Your kids broke a 250-year-old family treasure?”
Eric glares at me. “My kids? Why do you assume my kids broke it?”
I glance over to where they’re kicking at each other on the couch while Kelsey stares at her phone. “Huh, I don’t know.”
He takes a deep breath—deliberately, so I know it’s entirely my fault if he loses his temper. “You know where that vase went? Mom sold it.”
A cream puff falls off my plate when I jerk it up in surprise. “She what?”
“She sold it to pay rent on the store.”
“The store. Yixiang? Why didn’t Dad help?”
