Now, she was navigating it without him. She closed the album gently, got up, and wandered to the sink to rinse her mug. The house felt heavier in his absence—quieter, more spacious in the worst way. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself most days.
The doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a towel and opened the door to find Sandra from across the street, holding a covered casserole dish. “Thought you might want something homemade,” Sandra offered kindly. Gwen nodded, managed a faint smile, and took the dish with both hands.
Since Albert’s passing, friends and neighbors had taken turns stopping by. Some brought food, others brought stories. Gwen appreciated the effort, even if it was overwhelming at times. She hadn’t cooked a proper meal since Albert passed, but the fridge was full of everyone else’s attempts.
She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was nearly time for her appointment at the church. She had a meeting with the pastor and mortician to go over the final details. There was still so much to organize. She hadn’t expected the process to drag on this long.
She changed into something neat, tied her hair back, and grabbed her folder of documents. On the drive to the church, she kept her focus on practical matters—the service program, the guest list, the music. Emotion could wait. Today was about checking off what needed doing.
Elizabeth was due to arrive later that evening. Gwen hadn’t spoken to her since the initial call. Their conversations had always been short. Civil, but strained. Gwen had never felt welcome as a stepmother. Elizabeth kept her distance—and Gwen suspected, even early on, that it was a very deliberate choice.
She had been a teenager when Gwen entered the picture, and the timing hadn’t helped. Elizabeth believed Gwen was the reason her parents split, despite Albert’s own honesty. Gwen had tried to be patient, generous, open. But nothing seemed to reach her. Resentment lingered like a wall between them.
Over time, Gwen noticed how easily Elizabeth could twist things in her favor. She was careful with her tone, manipulative with her words—especially with Albert. Gwen had watched her ask for things gently, then firmly, then insistently. Albert always caved. Gwen eventually stopped interfering and pulled back instead.
The last few years had been quiet—no calls, no messages. Albert lost touch with her too, and Gwen didn’t push him to reconnect. It was easier that way. No arguments, no pretending. Now, they were about to share space again, and Gwen hoped only for civility. A few days of grace, nothing more than that.
She parked outside the church and took a deep breath. The conversations ahead would be about flowers, photos, and seating plans—but underneath it all, tension waited. Gwen adjusted her bag on her shoulder, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. For now, the focus was getting through the day.
Gwen spotted Elizabeth near the front pews, her head bowed slightly as she spoke with the pastor. She looked calm—unusually so. When their eyes met, Gwen braced herself for a cold look, but it never came. Instead Elizabeth walked over slowly and opened her arms. “I’m really sorry, Gwen. Truly.”
For a second, Gwen thought she’d been dreaming. She stood still, startled by the softness in Elizabeth’s voice. No tension in her shoulders, no edge in her tone. Just… warmth. Gwen offered a tentative nod, her instincts unsure whether to lean into the moment or guard against it. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Elizabeth walked with her to the church office. She reached for Gwen’s folder without hesitation. “Here—let me carry that,” she said gently. Gwen hesitated, then handed it over. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but brushed away her scepticism by owing it to grief.
The meeting passed in a blur. Gwen answered questions, nodded at timelines, and picked out music. Elizabeth sat beside her, offering quiet support. Not inserting herself. Not correcting. Just there. Gwen kept glancing at her, half-expecting a roll of the eyes, interjections, or clashing opinions. But nothing came.
As they stepped out of the church, Gwen instinctively turned toward her car, not expecting further conversation. She was already beginning to mentally list what else needed doing. But before she reached the driver’s side, Elizabeth called out from behind her, voice light but deliberate. “Gwen—wait a second.”
Gwen paused. Elizabeth caught up, hands folded in front of her. “Would you like to grab lunch?” she asked. “There’s that café nearby—Cornerstone, I think it’s called?” Gwen blinked. The question hung oddly in the air. In twenty years, Elizabeth had never once invited her to share a meal.