“Yes?” Doreen smiled.
“Is this yours?” He held out the folder.
“What?” Doreen asked, her smile faltering slightly.
He glanced down at the folder, then back at her.
“The final receipt for your sister. She managed all the payments herself. I just wanted to thank her again.
We rarely see someone manage such a large arrangement on her own.”
The air in the room shifted. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Then, she let out a laugh. “Oh, well… I meant I did everything in spirit, of course.”
But nobody was listening anymore.
The damage was done.
Mom’s friend, Mrs. Benson said: “Your mother would be so proud of you, dear,” she muttered.
Later, as we were collecting the last of the memorial items, Doreen approached me. Her perfect makeup couldn’t conceal how strained her expression was.
“Emily, I—”
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
“Just don’t.”
She stood there quietly before turning and leaving without another word.
