They drank their tea in silence. Gwen wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say something—or if silence was better. Elizabeth didn’t look uncomfortable, just quiet. Like two people cautiously sharing the same space.
After breakfast, Gwen loaded the dishwasher and was surprised to find Elizabeth drying the counter beside her. “You don’t have to do that,” Gwen said. “I know.” Elizabeth didn’t look up. “Just feels better than sitting around.” Gwen nodded. She understood that part—grief didn’t leave much room for stillness.
Later, Gwen pulled out the folder of church documents to revisit the guest list. Elizabeth hovered nearby. “Need help?” she asked. Gwen hesitated, then handed her the list. “If you want to cross-check a few names, that’d be useful.” Elizabeth nodded and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
For the next hour, they worked quietly, each focused on their own pile. Elizabeth didn’t interrupt. She didn’t comment on Gwen’s choices or question her handwriting. When she found a missing phone number, she just circled it and passed the page back with a short nod. It was simple, but smooth.
That evening, they ate leftovers side by side at the kitchen island. Conversation was minimal—mostly logistical. Elizabeth asked whether they had finalized the order of service. Gwen said not yet. “If you want,” Elizabeth offered, “I can help pull some old hymns. I think Dad liked that green booklet.” Gwen nodded.
The next morning, Gwen found the trash bins had been rolled out to the curb. A small thing, really—but she hadn’t remembered to do it herself. She didn’t mention it. Elizabeth didn’t bring it up either. But it lingered in Gwen’s mind longer than she expected.
When Gwen stepped outside, she noticed that the porch had been swept. And one of the garden chairs—long wobbly—had been moved inside. Again, Elizabeth didn’t mention handling any of these chores. Gwen didn’t know whether to feel grateful or suspicious. She wasn’t used to this version of Elizabeth.
That afternoon, Gwen returned from the garden and paused in the hallway when she heard Elizabeth on the phone. “Yes, Friday at eleven. Yes, confirmed,” she said. A notepad sat open beside her. When she saw Gwen, she held up the list. “That was the florist—they needed a final headcount.”
Gwen nodded slowly. “Thanks for handling that.” Elizabeth shrugged. “You already had too much going on.” The answer wasn’t overthought, just practical. Gwen lingered for a second before heading to the kitchen. The quiet competence was… unexpected, but not unwelcome.
Later, Gwen sat at the dining table with a stack of sympathy cards, reading a few and setting most aside. Elizabeth joined her with two mugs of tea. “I sorted the ones from neighbors if you want to start replying.” Gwen gave a faint smile. “Maybe next week.”