Page 2 of Code of Heart
This was her final act of rebellion.
Aurelia’s hands trembled slightly as she thought of what was still to come. She wanted to honor her friend by wearing something bright and chose a royal purple sleeveless maxi dress, accented with a large gold belt and matching sandals. Her usual makeup was light and efficient, consisting of mascara, tinted moisturizer, and lip gloss, but today, she added a touch of bronze eyeshadow.
Selene Vinter, Starhaven Manor’s Chief of Staff, approached Aurelia. Selene oversaw the management of Starhaven Manor’s daily operations. Her level of authority was second only to Eleanor’s. She was serious, direct, and demanded perfection from the staff. She wore a gray variation of her usual pantsuit, hair in its trademark tight bun, and the ever-present earpiece.
Aurelia had known Selene since they were twelve. Placed in the same foster home, their friendship began and extended beyond their time in care.
Selene had worked hard over the years to earn her ultimate promotion to Chief of Staff in the Greaves household. Eleanor had gone through more personal assistants than one could count, usually over something minuscule.
When Selene had encouraged her to apply to be Eleanor’s personal assistant, Aurelia was hesitant. The required skills and experience were daunting enough to stop her from sending an application, but she had done it anyway to make her friend happy, and Eleanor hired her on the spot. For the last five years, Aurelia had worked tirelessly to prove she was the right choice.
Selene surveyed the room and said softly, “This is exactly the kind of circus Eleanor would have loved. How are you holding up?”
Aurelia exhaled. “Part of me wants it over, and the other part doesn’t want it to end because it means she’s really gone. What about you?”
Selene nodded, eyes downcast. “Same. Unfortunately, Eleanor’s still holding us to a timeline from beyond.” She checked her watch and cursed. “It’s time for the first course.” She turned to the Master of Ceremonies to start the event.
Guests moved to their seats as he welcomed them to the celebration. His voice rang through the speakers and every projector screen.
“It was Eleanor Greaves’ final wish that we gather here today to celebrate her life rather than mourn her passing,” he announced. “We will soon begin the meal, followed by a cinematic tribute with personal stories from her closest friends. To close the celebration, we also have a final video from Eleanor herself.”
A chorus of gasps and some not-so-subtle—borderline obnoxious—tears rippled through the room. Aurelia rolled her eyes at the theatrics as the video began, and the first course was served.
Too nervous to eat, Aurelia stayed in her corner, eyes fixed on the screen. She didn’t notice Charles Pierce approach until he spoke beside her.
“Eleanor was one of a kind,” he said softly.
Charles had been Eleanor's attorney since the day he graduated from law school decades ago. Now in his early eighties with silver hair, warm but sharp brown eyes, Charles looked like he had aged significantly these last two months as well. He was Eleanor's friend just as much as he was her attorney, in mourning like Aurelia.
“Only she would demand a farewell party instead of a normal funeral,” Aurelia said wryly.
Charles laughed. “And she was anything but normal.”
Comfortable in each other's company, they stood quietly for a few moments as they waited to watch the video before Charles broke the silence. “While I don’t wish to talk business during an event like this, I need to ask that you come back here tomorrow at 9:00 AM along with the rest of the staff.”
He hedged, choosing his next words carefully. “There are…matters within her final will that affect her staff, in addition to other items you and I must discuss privately.”
Aurelia’s stomach sank. “9:00 AM is fine with me, my schedule’s suddenly wide open,” she replied with a slow nod.
“See you tomorrow morning then. In the meantime, I need another drink before Act Two of this production gets underway,” Charles said with resignation before walking away. Aurelia broke out into a small grin before deciding to follow his lead to grab herself a diet soda.
Calling what came next a production was putting it mildly. Had anyone asked Aurelia, she would have shamelessly classified it as a bona fide shit show.
It started with community members offering heartfelt condolences and stories about how wonderful it had been towork with Eleanor. Aurelia fought to keep her composure as they shared tales of Eleanor’s generosity and larger-than-life spirit.
Then the tone shifted. A group of elderly socialites gathered by the podium, forming a line. Each looked virtually identical: petite, silver-haired, draped in proper funeral attire, wearing black orthopedic shoes. The leader of this senior gang, Gladys Heringsworth, went first.
“There are no words worthy enough to express my sorrow for the passing of our dear Eleanor. She was as close to me as a sister could be, and now I find myself bereft—bereftwithout my friend,” Gladys blubbered. “My annual holiday party will be a little less lively, but no less sublime,” she clarified, “without Eleanor this year.” She looked up at the ceiling as she waved a small, frail fist in the air while the other rested over her heart. “I’ll have a slice of my Pistachio Custard Pie in your memory, my sweet angel,” she cried dramatically.
The sniffling across the room intensified as Gladys left the stage, handkerchief in hand. Margaret Carrington followed, carefully dabbing her eyes as she spoke with conviction.
“Oh, my stars! Eleanor’s departure is a loss I’ll feel forever,” she declared. “She was always such a…uniquepresence. Even when she wore those questionably ostentatious outfits or said such unfiltered things, she did it with such confidence, you almosthadto admire her audacity. We may not have always agreed, but she certainly…existed.”
The MC gently ushered Margaret offstage, but not before she scowled at him. Aurelia cringed as Nancy Fitzwalter swiftly took Margaret’s space on stage.
“Eleanor…our beloved Eleanor,” Nancy sobbed. “She truly was one of a kind. No one else could manage to show up an hour late to every event and still demand the best seat in the house. She had the sort of charm that would make you simultaneously roll your eyes and pour her another glass of champagne. She maybe gone, but that unmistakable perfume of hers will haunt my cashmere for years to come.”
Nancy exited the stage, outwardly overcome with grief as Gertrude Pavendish began to make her way forward…but was cut off by a speed walking Judith Vanderlyn. Aurelia couldn’t contain her surprise over how quickly Judith was able to squeak by. Judging by the ruinous look on Gertrude’s face, this was a slight that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.
