Forever.
The fire in my throat hardened into a block of ice. I swallowed the scream, pushing it down deep into my chest where it would serve a better purpose.
Evan was waiting for it. He expected the tears. He craved the chaotic scene. He wanted the shattered, hysterical old woman collapsing in a heap of unintelligible grief, so he could play the tragic, long-suffering widower for the inevitable swarm of cameras waiting on the church steps. Throughout their marriage, Evan had always believed I was insignificant simply because I spoke softly. He thought my graying hair equated to weakness. He thought my maternal grief would render me blind, deaf, and foolish.
He was spectacularly wrong on all three counts.
At the front of the altar, Mr. Halden, Emma’s attorney, stepped out from the heavy shadow of the pulpit. He was a thin, severe man with silver hair, possessing a demeanor as dry and unyielding as ancient parchment. Gripped tightly in his liver-spotted hands was a thick, ivory envelope with Emma’s looping handwriting scrawled across the front.
Evan’s manufactured smile instantly sharpened into a scowl of irritation.
“Is this theatricality really necessary right now, Arthur?” Evan demanded, his voice echoing too loudly off the vaulted ceiling. “My wife hasn’t even been put in the ground.”
Mr. Halden did not flinch. He slowly, deliberately pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“According to the precise legal stipulations of your late wife,” Mr. Halden announced, his voice carrying a metallic edge that instantly silenced the murmuring crowd, “before the burial rites can commence, the last will and testament must be read. Here. Before the congregation.”
A collective, shuddering breath rippled through the mourners.
Evan scoffed, shaking his head. Celeste slid her hand back into the crook of his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Let the old men play their games, her body language sneered.
Mr. Halden broke the wax seal on the envelope. The paper rasped loudly in the dead quiet of the sanctuary. He unfolded the document, cleared his throat, and read the first designation.
“To my mother, Margaret Ellis…”
Evan’s mocking smirk froze, then violently shattered, as the lawyer drew his next breath.
