As I was guiding my father to his seat in the front row, with Daniel on his other side, a distinct murmur swept through the assembled mourners. I turned and saw them. Ashley and Ethan were making their entrance, their arrival causing heads to turn and whispers to ripple through the room. Ashley was wearing an impeccably tailored black dress that seemed more expensive than appropriate, her diamond earrings catching the dim light.
Ethan looked deeply uncomfortable in his designer suit, his arm possessively around my sister’s waist in a transparent display of support. Her left hand was artfully arranged on her purse, the colossal diamond engagement ring and wedding band impossible to ignore. My father visibly stiffened beside me.
— Robert, breathe.
I whispered, a surge of concern for his heart rising in me.
They navigated their way toward the front, pausing to exchange words with various attendees. I kept my gaze fixed forward, concentrating on the large, framed photograph of my mother displayed next to her closed casket. Her warm, familiar smile provided a small measure of comfort. Eventually, they reached us. Ashley embraced my father, who returned the gesture with a rigid formality. Ethan shook his hand and received a curt nod in reply.
— Jessica.
Ashley said, turning to me, her expression unreadable.
— It’s been a long time.
— Yes, it has.
I said, trusting myself with nothing more.
Ethan offered an awkward nod in my direction.
— Sorry for your loss.
Daniel had momentarily stepped away to confer with the funeral director, leaving me alone with them. Ashley immediately seized the opening.
— I need to speak with you. In private.
She said, gesturing toward a small anteroom. Against my better judgment, I followed her, my primary motivation being to avoid a scene at my mother’s service.
The small room was sparsely furnished with a few chairs and a box of tissues, clearly intended for mourners in need of a private moment. Ashley shut the door firmly behind us. Up close, I could see a network of fine lines around her eyes that even her expertly applied makeup couldn’t entirely hide.
— You look thin.
She observed, her eyes raking over me in a critical assessment.
— Grief will do that.
I answered flatly.
She began to fiddle with her ring, twisting it nervously around her finger.
— Ethan and I just bought a summer house on Cape Cod. Eight bedrooms, private beach.
I remained silent, baffled as to why she felt the need to share this with me now.
— We’re thinking about starting a family soon.
She plowed on.
— Ethan’s company just acquired two smaller startups, and we’re having the entire third floor of our house renovated into a nursery.
— Congratulations.
I said, my voice utterly devoid of inflection.
— Was there something specific you wanted to talk about regarding the funeral?
Her smile took on a sharp, cruel edge.
— I just thought you’d like to know how well things have turned out for us. Poor you, still single at thirty-eight. I ended up with the man, the money, and the mansion.
A familiar pang of pain flared, but just as quickly, it was extinguished. Six years ago, her words would have utterly destroyed me. Today, they just sounded pathetic. I offered her a genuine, unforced smile.
— Have you met my husband yet?
Her smug expression faltered.
— Husband?
— Daniel.
I called, opening the door to find him waiting patiently just outside.
— Come and meet my sister.
As Daniel stepped into the room, Ethan appeared in the doorway behind him, having clearly been observing our exchange. The moment the two men locked eyes, every trace of color drained from Ethan’s face.
— Hayes.
He choked out, his confident facade crumbling into dust.
— Vance.
Daniel’s tone was professional but edged with ice.
— It’s been what, seven years? Not since Macintosh acquired InnoTech instead of your client, CompuServe, I believe?
Ethan swallowed hard.
— You two… you’re married?
— Two wonderful years.
I confirmed, sliding my hand into the warm, steady grasp of Daniel’s.
— Daniel Hayes…
Ashley repeated the name slowly, the recognition dawning on her face.
— As in, Hayes Investments?
— The very same.
Daniel replied.
— Jessica and I met at a tech conference in San Diego.
Ethan scrambled to regain some semblance of his former composure.
— Hayes, we should connect sometime. I’ve been meaning to reach out about some potential synergies.
— My schedule is rather full at the moment.
Daniel replied, his tone pleasant but firm.
— But feel free to contact my office.
The funeral director appeared at that moment to inform us that the service was about to commence. As we made our way back to the main room, a fresh wave of whispers trailed in our wake. The history between Daniel and Ethan was evidently well-known in their professional circles.
We had just settled back into our seats when my father suddenly gasped and clutched his chest, his face contorted in agony.
— Dad!
I cried out, as Daniel immediately signaled for assistance. We moved my father into a private room as the funeral was temporarily put on hold. A doctor who was among the mourners quickly examined him and determined that it was likely a severe stress reaction, not another heart attack. Ashley had followed us, her face a mask of genuine fear.
— Is he okay? Should we call 911?
Her voice trembled.
— The doctor says his vitals are stable.
I replied, surprised by the sincerity of her concern.
— He’s just overwhelmed.
For twenty tense minutes, we sat together in a strained, awkward silence, bound only by our shared fear for our father. When he insisted that he was well enough to proceed with the service, we returned to the main room, the brief but terrifying crisis having forged an unexpected and fragile truce.
The funeral itself was both beautiful and heart-wrenching. I delivered a eulogy, speaking of my mother’s boundless kindness, her quiet strength, and her unwavering love for her family. When it was Ashley’s turn to speak, she faltered after only a few sentences, overcome by a wave of tears. Without conscious thought, I moved to her side and placed a supportive hand on her back.
— It’s okay.
I whispered.
— Take your time.
She managed to compose herself and completed her tribute, sharing stories from our childhood that elicited both tears and gentle laughter from the crowd.
At the cemetery, a soft rain began to fall as we laid my mother to rest. I noticed Ethan standing off to the side, away from the main group, checking his watch impatiently. Ashley, however, remained close to our father’s side, her earlier bravado completely gone, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated grief.
The reception back at my parents’ house was a crowded affair, with well-wishers bringing food and sharing cherished memories of my mother. Ethan drank heavily and seemed increasingly agitated as several of his business acquaintances engaged Daniel in animated conversation. I overheard snippets of their discussion, something about Ethan’s company struggling with its recent acquisitions, and I began to wonder if Ashley’s earlier boasting had been a desperate attempt to conceal serious financial troubles.
