Page 8 of The Affair
Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about gifts.
I looked around the room at the sea of people, and realized she’d have to thank a lot more people after today.
The caterer, florist, tons of volunteers, and let’s not forget the minister and his family.
And then it dawned on me …
She’d planned for this. My mom, the meticulous planner, had contacted my aunt, probably weeks before my father had even passed, and planned for this very thing. Just like every detail of the funeral.
I guessed when they said the apple did not fall far from the tree, they weren’t wrong. What else had my mom been planning behind my back?
Chapter Two
“Mom, that shipment from the Morgan estate just got here. I’m going to go check it out and see if I can grab some photos for social media before they place everything inside,” I shouted from the back of the store, hoping I wasn’t disturbing any customers roaming about
It was the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday, which usually happened to be a pretty quiet time of the week for us. Combine that with the fact that it also happened to be our first day open since my father had died, and so far, Timeless Treasures—the little antique store my family had owned and operated since I was a child—was deader than a doornail.
“Okay,” I heard her faintly respond from somewhere up front. One-worded answers seemed to be the norm for my mother since the funeral.
I’d tried to convince her to take some more time off, that I was more than capable of running the store by myself for a little while longer, but she insisted on coming back. She’d said she wanted to be with her things.
That was what she called them—all the antiques and baubles she’d bought and sold over the years for this store.
Her things. Her treasures.
For my mom, it had always been more than a job. This was her life.
It had brought her so much joy to see those forgotten pieces of furniture and dusty picture frames and trinkets find new homes and bring happiness to someone once again. So, I was glad to see her back.
Even if her vocabulary was a little lacking.
“Hey, Jeff,” I said, meeting the truck driver out back.
We had a loading zone there. Ever since I had been little, I’d stood here, watching and waiting to see what new items would appear off the back of the truck. It was like unwrapping presents at Christmas. I was never sure what my mom would bring home.
“Elle Woods,” he greeted me with a sly smile. “No pink today?”
I shook my head and laughed, grateful he had gone with our usual banter instead of offering condolences. I was really sick of sad eyes and sorry words. “One of these days, you’re gonna run out ofLegally Blondejokes, and then what will we talk about?”
The gray-haired man I’d known since my teens chuckled under his breath as his employees began carefully unloading the truck. “Hey”—he laughed again, a deep, full sound that made his middle-aged belly bounce up and down—“I’m not the one who named my daughter Elle Woods.”
“Her name is Eloise, and it’s a lovely, timeless name.”
Both of us froze, turning abruptly at the sound of my mother’s voice. By the tone of it alone, I wasn’t sure if she was chastising our idle chatter or joining in.
By the scared-shitless expression on Jeff’s face, I could see that he didn’t know either.
Thankfully, I spotted a small smile creep along the corner of my mom’s lips as she joined us by the loading dock. Jeff handed her the paperwork to sign, and she quickly did so.
Then, she gave Jeff and me an amused expression. “And besides, she looks nothing like the woman in that silly movie. She’s not even blonde!”
I could almost feel Jeff’s exhale of relief as I echoed him.
There was a sliver of the mother I remembered.
Jeff left to help out with the unloading, leaving the two of us standing there to watch. I waited for her to say something more, but she didn’t. She just silently assessed each piece with a long gaze as I patiently waited for her opinion.
“What estate did you say these were from?” she finally asked.
