He passed in the early morning, peaceful, with my hand in his. The grief hit me harder than I expected, considering we'd only had a handful of weeks. But sometimes a handful of weeks can hold almost six decades within them.
The funeral was small. I stood by the grave and let myself cry.
Raymond showed up, of course.
He waited until the others had drifted toward their cars before he approached.
Thomas was gone.
"You know I'm your only living relative," he said, adjusting his tie. "Family should handle family. Foolish old women shouldn't sign papers they don't understand, Nancy."
"I understood every word Thomas said to me."
He gave me a thin smile. "I helped Aunt Margaret with everything at the end. Everything. She was grateful."
Something cold moved through me. I remembered how Thomas's jaw had tightened whenever Raymond's name came up.
"Family should handle family."
"I need to go home, Raymond."
"We'll talk soon," he said. "About your affairs."
I walked to my car without answering.
***
The following morning, someone knocked on my door.
I opened it to find Walter holding a small wooden box under his arm. He gave me the same quiet smile he'd worn at the wedding.
"We'll talk soon."
"May I come in?"
I stepped aside. He set the box on my living room table and folded his hands.
