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.
Even though she could see Lilly from the corner of her eye, she hadn’t noticed the teenager shift her position and didn’t expect the warm hands that closed around hers, gently taking the packet from her. Pinching it tightly, Lilly expertly tore it in two and handed Sylvie a tissue.
“I’ve always loved coming to visit, too,” Lilly said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m glad I got to sit and talk with her this week. It was really nice. Besides, I always enjoy seeing you, even though I hate the heat.”
The teenager laughed as Sylvie wiped her cheeks with the tissue. Taking a deep breath—deep enough that it almost hurt her lungs to expand that much—she tried to steady her heart rate. Lilly’s dismissal of societal expectations aside, she really should calm down and face the day downstairs.
“This isn’t hot,” she said. “Just wait and see what June feels like!”
As soon as she said it, she regretted it.
Annette had made her daughter promise that no one would tell Lilly about the amended will until she said so.
Despite being very clear with Sylvie about her uneasy feelings and what she believed they meant, Annette hadn’t given them the say-so.
Sylvie thought her mom had started to believe she was really feeling better, so she had put it off.
She still hadn’t spoken to either Lilly or Fiona. They needed to plan the funeral, though she was surprised to learn her mom had already taken care of most of it. Rhonda and Dr. Tellis had arrived that afternoon, on the day her mom had died.
They seemed to know more about her mom’s life in the last few months than she did.
“Gross, this is already like the surface of the sun,” Lilly said, grinning. “Give me the snow and the mountains any day.”
It was nice to see Lilly smiling, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to smile back. She would have to tell her soon, before the lawyers did. Although she figured she should talk to Fiona first. After all, she would need to be a co-caretaker until Lilly turned eighteen.
Groaning out loud, Sylvie caught her niece looking at her expectantly.
“What? Realized that no matter how much you want your coffee, my mom is downstairs, and you’ll have to see her?”
“No!” she replied, frantically searching for an excuse. It wasn’t that she wanted to lie to Lilly, exactly, but it wasn’t good form for her to allow the girl to know how poorly she got on with her mother. “I’m just feeling guilty because I do, in fact, want a coffee.”
Not a lie.
“Why do you feel guilty about that?” Lilly asked, looking puzzled, then her eyes brightened as she remembered. “Oh, you were going caffeine-free this year, right? And how’s your one book a week working out for you?”
“How do you know about my New Year’s list?” Sylvie stood as they made their way out of the Family Wing and down the stairs. “Making me feel kind of stalked here!”
Lilly waved her off with a flick of her wrist. “I follow you on socials, obviously. And you post New Year’s lists, like, every year. I think you’re the only person I know who still does that.”
Great. Now she felt old and out of touch and a little stalked. A horrible thought occurred to her—what else had she posted without realizing Lilly might have seen it?
“It can’t be that bad,” Lilly said. “You should be at, what…six books by now?”
She sighed. “Yes. But I’m at two…and a half.”
Lilly laughed. “You should follow me on Story-Life. You’d get some good recs!”
“Story-what?” she asked, pausing at the bottom of the staircase.
Her niece eyed her as if she were crazy. “Story-Life? It’s like the best reading tracker app ever. I post about what I’m reading and review new books. I’ve got a couple of thousand followers. It’s really cool!”
Turning on her heel, the teenager crossed the lobby and entered the kitchen, where Sylvie could hear her saying good morning to Fiona.
Apparently, she was so out of touch that she hadn’t noticed reading and books had become popular. When did that happen? And couldn’t it have happened back when she was in high school?
“Coffee’s up!” Lilly called from the kitchen, snapping Sylvie out of her thoughts.
She groaned inwardly, knowing she’d have to head in and face Hurricane Fiona. At least there was coffee in there.