On the day of my husband Scott Reynolds' funeral, the air was thick with the scent of lilies and damp earth, a scent that clung to everything like grief itself. I wore a black dress that felt too light for the intensity of the moment, holding back the tears that wouldn't stop flowing.
Beside me stood Connor, my son, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the coffin, as if it were something unfinished rather than someone who had passed away. Since Scott's sudden heart attack, Connor had become colder and more insensitive than I recognized.
In the days leading up to the funeral, I'd heard rumors about money, about the house in Brookside, about the company Scott had built from the ground up, and even about a woman named Angela. I told myself those rumors were just noise, because I needed to believe my family was still together.
When the priest finished speaking, people began to approach me to silently offer their condolences and feign compassion. It was then that Connor took my hand, squeezing it too tightly, and leaned close to my ear, his voice icy.
"You're no longer part of this family, Mom," he whispered without hesitation.
I felt such a sudden knot in my stomach that I thought I would faint right there, next to the grave. I tried to speak, but a lump formed in my throat and the words wouldn't come out.
Without letting go of my hand, Connor nodded toward Scott's lawyer, Mr. Smith, who stood a few steps away holding a briefcase with unflappable calm. Smith stepped forward, opened the briefcase, and carefully removed a sealed envelope.
"The will," Connor said aloud, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
I clearly saw Scott's signature on the document, along with the notary's seal, which gave it an official and definitive air. Connor took the envelope from Smith as if it had always belonged to him and never to me.
Then, without asking, he reached into my purse and took out my keys, including those to the house, the garage, and Scott's office. Finally, my voice broke through the commotion as I said, "This has to be a mistake."
CONTINUE READING...>>
To see the full instructions for this recipe, go to the next page or click the open button (>) and don't forget to share it with your friends on Facebook.
