She hadn’t come to their wedding dinner, nor to any anniversary gatherings or birthdays. The sudden gesture felt too unexpected, too out of place. Gwen’s first instinct was suspicion. But then again, the thought of returning to a quiet house, heating leftovers alone, didn’t feel appealing either.
“Alright,” Gwen replied, careful not to sound too surprised. “Cornerstone’s fine.” As they walked to their cars, she tried to make sense of it. Maybe grief softened people. Maybe Elizabeth was trying to show maturity. Or maybe, Gwen thought cautiously, she just didn’t want to be alone either.
The café was modest and quiet, tucked between a florist and a bookstore. They ordered small lunches—soup for Gwen, a sandwich for Elizabeth. The conversation began stiffly. They traded polite updates: work, the weather, grocery prices. Gwen stirred her soup slowly, unsure what direction, if any, the meal would take.
After a pause, Elizabeth glanced up. “The hotel I booked has bedbugs,” she said, almost sheepishly. “Apparently, there’s a shortage of rooms this weekend. I’ve called around, but everything’s booked or sketchy. I hate to ask, but… would it be alright if I stayed at the house for a few days?”
Gwen looked up, startled. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from lunch—but it wasn’t this. Her first instinct was hesitation. The house had felt like a fragile retreat these past few weeks. The idea of sharing it, especially with someone she didn’t fully trust, felt unsettling.
Still, Elizabeth’s request didn’t come with pressure. She hadn’t demanded anything—just asked, with quiet restraint. Gwen folded her hands around her cup and thought for a moment. The house did have space. And this wasn’t just anyone. It was Albert’s daughter. Saying no felt unnecessarily cold.
She nodded slowly. “Alright. You can stay for a few days. I wouldn’t want you to miss the funeral.” Elizabeth gave a grateful smile. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Gwen gave a small nod in return, still unsure whether the gesture was genuine or something else entirely.
As they left the café, Gwen walked a few paces behind. Her mind circled around the conversation, around the invitation she had just extended. She reminded herself it was only for a few days. And for now, maybe company wouldn’t be the worst thing.
That evening, Gwen prepared the guest room—fresh sheets, clean towel, no fuss. She moved quietly through the motions, still trying to process the sudden shift in their dynamic. As she turned off the light and closed the door behind her, she wasn’t sure what was to come next.
The next morning, Gwen expected the usual distance. Instead, Elizabeth was already downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She didn’t say much—just nodded when Gwen entered and slid the sugar bowl toward her. Gwen murmured thanks and sat across from her, unsure what to say.