Two days later, I spotted Linda outside the grocery store, walking out with her arms full of bags. I hadn’t planned to say anything, but rage doesn’t wait for invitations.
“Was it worth it?” I asked, stepping up behind her. “Selling Mom’s necklace?”
She turned, looked me dead in the eye… and laughed.
“Oh, that old thing? We needed funds for the honeymoon. It was just sitting there collecting dust.”
I hadn’t planned to say anything, but rage doesn’t wait for invitations.
I stared at her. “It wasn’t just a thing. It was Mom’s. And it was supposed to be mine.”
“Sentimentality doesn’t pay for honeymoons, honey. Grow up!”
Then Linda checked her watch and added, “Paul and I leave in two hours for our honeymoon in Maui, so I really don’t have time for… bygone things.”
I stood there frozen as she stormed to her car. How could someone who used to sit at our kitchen table and call my mom her best friend speak like that?
“Sentimentality doesn’t pay for honeymoons, honey. Grow up!”
That’s when I felt a gentle hand on my arm.
Sara. A longtime family friend. Someone who’d been quiet at the funeral, who’d worked at the hospital where Mom was treated.
She waited until Linda was gone, then said softly, “I’ve been meaning to call you… but I didn’t know if I should.”
She looked nervous. “I keep thinking about your mom, and it doesn’t feel right to stay quiet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been meaning to call you… but I didn’t know if I should.”
“Paul and Linda. They were involved before your mom passed. I saw them together in the hospital parking lot more than once. Holding hands. Kissing. And I heard things.”
My stomach dropped. “What kind of things?”
“Conversations they’d have when they thought no one was listening. Once I heard Linda say something about how much longer they’d have to keep up appearances. Another time, Paul mentioned being tired of playing nurse.”
The background noise faded to white static.
“They were involved before your mom passed.”
“There’s more,” Sara added. “I heard them laughing outside your mom’s room. While she was inside sleeping off her pain medication, they were talking about a trip they wanted to take… and places they’d go once things were ‘settled.'”
I felt bile rise in my throat.
“Your mom talked about them constantly,” Sara continued. “About how grateful she was to have such devoted support. She called them her angels. She had no idea.”
I couldn’t speak or breathe.
“She called them her angels.”
“I’m sorry,” Sara whispered. “I thought you should know.”
When I finally left, something had changed. Grief wasn’t just sadness anymore.
It was fury with a purpose.
I didn’t explode. I didn’t post angry messages or show up at their door screaming.
Instead, I called Paul.
“I owe you an apology,” I said. “I’ve been unfair. Grief made me irrational.”
I didn’t explode.
He sounded surprised. “I appreciate you saying that.”
“Mom would want us to get along. She’d want me to be happy for you.”
“She really would,” he said, and I could hear the relief in his voice.
“I’d like to come by once you return from your honeymoon,” I added gently. “Bring you both something. A proper wedding gift.”
“Mom would want us to get along. She’d want me to be happy for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Please.”
He agreed immediately, adding that they’d be back from Maui in a week.
When I arrived at their door a week later, I was carrying a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.
Linda answered, wearing an apron and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Come in, come in! I just made cookies.”
He agreed immediately, adding that they’d be back from Maui in a week.
Paul hugged me, told me how mature I was being, and how proud Mom would be.
I smiled and handed them the bag. “This is for both of you.”
They sat on the couch and pulled out the contents.
Linda’s smile died first. Paul’s face went gray.
I smiled and handed them the bag.
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