“Oh, and the view,” Lester chimed in, opening a bottle of wine without asking. “From the 36th floor? Breathtaking. Sun hits the windows just right. Like a painting. Like—perfect.”
It was nine in the morning.
Nash and Lyle dragged their ‘surprise’ into the living room and tore off the cover. It was a giant, glossy print of the family, taken at the Luciana Hotel gala. Everyone dressed like aristocrats. Posed like nobility. Elizabeth in the middle. My sons beside her. Edmund’s hand resting on her waist.
I wasn’t in the picture.
“Look, Grandma!” Nash said with a smirk. “Don’t we look like a real family here?”
Lyle added without blinking, “Too bad you weren’t there. Oh wait—yeah. You were left behind. Guess you looked too much like our maid.”
The room exploded with laughter. Even Edmund. Even my son. Even Loisa, wiping tears from her eyes.
Elizabeth just sipped her coffee and said cheerfully, “Don’t worry, Doris. I’ll leave some of my old dresses in your closet. And some perfume. They’re a little tight on me now, but I think you can squeeze in.”
Edmund chuckled, not even looking at me. “You can dress a corpse in Versace—it’s still a corpse. She still smells like disappointment.”