I'm trying to get as much editing/posting done before the holidays are upon us in full force. Don't know how successful I will be, lol, but I'm trying. (If you're a reader of Good Things Come, I haven't forgotten about it and more is coming. I had a little computer glitch and had to reconstruct some chapters.)

Angela isn't on her best behavior in this, but please remember she's grieving. And if Eric is seeming too...perfect boyfriend lately, don't worry, he will have some issues of his own to deal with in upcoming chapters.

Once again thanks for the feedback and comments to the previous chapters. (I'm behind on pms, too.) I appreciate them all. :-)

"Mom, how come you're not going to Atlantic City?"

Amy moved around the kitchen, bouncing a fussy Joshua on her shoulder. "Because, honey, I've decided after twenty some odd years of mother's days I wanted to spend one doing absolutely nothing. If that means kicking everyone else out of the house for the weekend- so be it."

"That and you hate grandma."

"Eric, I do not hate your grandmother! She's just…she's…eccentric."

"Fancy way of saying hate."

"I hate how unpredictable she is. That's all. How many times did she show up to celebrate Christmas on New Year's Day when you were little? Or tell you kids she only celebrated "half birthdays" as a way to justify it when she forgot the actual day? Didn't that bother you?"

"It got me an extra day of presents. And she said the half birthday thing was so she didn't age as fast as everyone else. Both of those reasons sound cool and spontaneous, like grandma."

"As you get older you'll learn that spontaneous and unpredictable can be fun, but you need stability. You need to be able to trust a person. That's one thing dad has never had with grandma. He loves her because she's his mother and she can be a lot of fun, but he can't rely on her for anything."

"Hey, she's got a condo now, not just the Winnebago. Maybe she's mellowing."

"I guess time will tell."

"Well, don't worry, mom, you and dad aren't spontaneous or unpredictable at all," he said with a smile.

"I'm going to go ahead and take that as a compliment." She sighed as the baby continued to fuss. "Do me a favor and hold Josh while I eat something. If he isn't in someone's arms he will scream."

Eric took the baby from his mom. "I don't know, little brother, is that true? Are you a crybaby or is she just spreading rumors?" Josh fussed and squirmed in his arms. He lifted him over his head and made funny faces. It only seemed to make things worse. "I'm trying to be on your side, buddy, but you're not helping."

"How is Angela doing," Amy asked over the whining.

"She hasn't wanted to talk much. When she does she blames herself for not going to see her grandmother sooner."

"Poor thing."

"I told her not to blame herself. Her family's messed up. It was a complicated situation. I don't know if there was a right way to handle it. I want to help her more, but she's not making it easy. That's kind of why I'm here." He shifted the baby in his lap. "I didn't catch Feeny at school and I need to ask him something about these flowers Angela wants to bring to the wake. They might as well be invisible because they are impossible to find. But if I can get the flowers I think it will help her. I thought he might know where I could get them."

"Keep doing what you're doing, honey, flowers or no flowers. Like I told you before, don't discount the value of being there for someone and being their safe place. I'm sure you're doing more for Angela than you realize, even if it's just standing beside her."

"Or giving her someone to yell at," he asked, as he flashed back to this morning. He had asked Angela how she was and had her usual breakfast waiting at the counter in the Student Union. She snapped and told him to stop hovering. A few minutes later she came back and apologized, but it was still unusual.

"That can help, too. Grief isn't always rational. People can lash out against those closest to them."

"Why? I'd think that would be the time to raise hell against your enemies. It's perfect because who would blame you? No one, because of the grief."

She smiled and shook her head. "I think the reason people can meltdown on someone they care about is, again, because it's safe. They know, at least on a subconscious level, the person will forgive their erratic behavior."

"I guess that makes sense in a twisted way."

"Just be sure to-" Amy jumped when the back door flew open.

"I can't believe you're trying to call shotgun for Friday," Morgan ranted to Cory, who was right behind her. "That's still a couple days away."

"It counts. You know the rules: first one to call shotgun gets it."

"It does not! You have to call it that day!"

"Nope, those rules were never established. Besides, I'm an adult. I'm not going to be cramped in the back of the van with a baby. Plus my legs are longer than yours. So there." He stuck out his tongue. "I win."

"Mom!"

"Is this argument happening? You are too old for this."

"Yeah, Morgan," Cory said.

"Is that why you volunteered to pick up your sister for me? I thought you were just being nice."

"I was, but-"

"Ha-ha." Morgan laughed and pointed in her brother's face. "You're so busted."

"Knock it off or I'll tell your father to strap you both to the luggage rack. And he won't even ask me why. Let's see how easy it is for you two to argue when you're flying down the highway at fifty miles an hour."

"Sorry," Cory and Morgan mumbled in unison, both of them staring at their shoes.

"See, Josh," Eric began, "if you don't quit being a crybaby you'll end up like them instead of a cool guy like me. You don't want that, do you?"

"Hey!"

"You're cool?"

Before he could respond he saw Mr. Feeny through the kitchen window. "Feeny! Gotta go." He dropped the baby into Cory's arms and headed for the door.

"Oh, Eric, can you ask Angela something for me?"

"What is it, Weasel?"

"I have a poem that's due a week from Monday and I wanted her to help me with it. I got an A on the last one she gave me a hand on and this is supposed to be a big part of my grade for English."

"I can't promise she'll say yes because she's going through a lot since her grandma died, but I'll ask her for you."

"Thanks."

/

"Feeny!"

George turned around and saw Eric waving. "Yes?"

"Are you busy?"

He set his briefcase by the back door. "Not at the moment, no."

"You know flower people right?"

"Flower people?"

"Yeah, other people who plant stuff in their yards or sell flowers or whatever the hell else it is you do with them."

George took a seat. "Eric, if you need something just ask."

"Angela wants to bring a certain flower to her grandmother's service. Lily of the Valley, I think she called them. They were her grandmother's favorite. But they're hard to find and crazy expensive."

"Lily of the Valley is one of the most expensive flowers in the world. They're in season for such a short amount of time. It's May, so that improves the chances of finding them slightly, but she'd have to compete with people who want them in their floral arrangements for weddings."

"Not being able to find them is putting her about this close to the edge," he said, his thumb and index finger practically touching. "So I was hoping that you knew a guy who could score me some lilies."

"Like a floral black market?"

He hit his mentor's arm. "Exactly! But make sure it's nothing illegal," he added, leaning in so no one else could hear them even though there was no one else around. "We can't go to jail. I'm sure the food sucks. Plus we've both got girlfriends now and they would miss us."

He rolled his eyes before he answered, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Feeny. I really appreciate it."

"How is Angela doing?" He intended to talk to her at some point during the past couple days, but it seemed lately she was the last one in the door before class began and the first to slip away when it was over.

"She feels guilty. Her grandmother wanted her to visit for months but Angela kept putting her off. It's complicated family stuff with her mother. It's just a big mess. Anyway, she finally agreed to go over for dinner and then this happens."

"That is unfortunate." George had vague memories of Angela showing up to enroll at John Adams High in the last months of her junior year. It was an uncommon time to get a new student, though not unheard of when dealing with military families. She'd been accompanied by her father and grandmother and was pleasant until George inquired about her mother. Angela gave some sarcastic remark and appeared disinterested after that. "And now I presume she will have to see her mother at the service?"

"No, that's one thing working in her favor. Her Aunt Lois arranged for Angela to have an hour or two to herself before everyone else shows up."

"That was nice of her aunt."

"Yeah. To be honest I'm a little nervous. I think I've only been to two funerals. Well, maybe one. Do I count Jack and Shawn's dad? Because that was more of a roast."

He nodded. Chet Hunter's sendoff was much like the man himself- loud, boisterous, and one of a kind. It was memorable, that was for sure. How many funerals have the cops called because a few family members showed up drunk and started a bonfire in the parking lot? "What makes you nervous?"

"The death part. I've been pretty lucky. I haven't lost anyone close to me. When I was ten, my mom's cousin died. I remember I had to get dressed up and go. Right when we got there Nana Boo Boo dragged me and Cory up to the front and made us look. She said he looked like he was asleep. And yeah, he did, but for weeks after that we would panic if we saw someone sleeping because we were afraid they were really dead."

"Oh, yes, I remember. That was about the time I had to take down my hammock and give up naps out here or run the risk of you two prying my eyes open or dropping water balloons on me from the tree house."

"Sorry about that. If it makes you feel better we did it to everyone. Boy, were mom and dad pissed. Especially since Morgan was a baby and we kept checking her, too."

"Eric, the main thing to remember about wakes and funerals is that these services aren't for the people who have passed on. Not really. They're for the ones left behind."

"So do what I can to help Angela?"

"That's where I was going, yes."

"I'm just afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing and making it worse."

"I don't believe you need to worry about that, but if you're ever in doubt- simply hold her hand."

"Hold her hand? That's it?"

"Hold her hand. Give her a hug. Do whatever she needs to get through the day in one piece."

"So no pressure on me then," he joked.

"You'll do fine. When is the wake?"

"Thursday afternoon."

"Then I'd better get on the phone with my flower people," George said as he stood. "I only have a couple days to track down the illusive lilies."

"Remember, nothing illegal. Neither one of us can afford to go to jail. You're too old and I'm too pretty."

/

/

Shawn wandered down the halls toward his dorm, going over everything the economics professor had covered today. The countdown was on for the end of the semester and while he was ninety-eight percent sure he wasn't coming back in the fall, he didn't want to flunk any classes. He would owe Jack's stepdad for the classes anyway and it would be extra humiliating to pay to fail. As he rounded the corner he saw Angela outside of her dorm. He briefly considered walking away. They hadn't talked much since Jack and Rachel's disastrous dinner party. That night reminded Shawn of a part of himself he hated, an inner demon he wanted to forget existed. It was easier to avoid Angela than it was to face what he did.

"Damn it." Angela's books slipped from her arm and fell to the floor with a thud, narrowly avoiding her foot. "Stupid lock." She kicked the door in frustration.

"I'm pretty sure the school operates on a strict, 'you break it, you buy it,' policy."

She spun around and saw Shawn standing there. "Topanga and I have been asking since we came back from winter break for this lock to be fixed. It's getting ridiculous. I think I'm going to go straight to Dean Bolander. We helped hook her up with Mr. Feeny. If you look at it that way she kind of owes us. I'll collect that favor for the lock." She was confused when he laughed. "What?"

"Nothing, That sounds like Eric's brand of logic talking. Weird to hear it coming out of your mouth, that's all."

"Yeah, well if you look past the delivery, Eric's logic makes sense a lot of the time."

"If you say so," he bristled. His heart twisted in his chest when he noticed the shirt Angela wore under her favorite oversized cardigan. The 76ers tee was knotted at the hip to prevent it from looking like a dress and obviously didn't belong to her. Or maybe it did now. They never hit the 'stealing his clothes' milestone, though he'd always wanted to. He craved the intimacy the gesture seemed to suggest. Sure, he let her borrow his jacket when it was chilly, but he always took it back at the end of the night. He had to. He only had the one.

"Shawn, what do you want?"

He crouched down, picked up her books, and placed them in her arms. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He fiddled with the key and after a minute the door finally opened. "Ha! And people thought all those years of having to sneak into places were a waste, huh?" She didn't laugh at his joke. "Here." He handed over the key.

"Thanks."

He followed her into the dorm, but stayed on Topanga's side. "How are you doing after…well, you know."

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

She slammed her books down onto her desk. "Do you remember how much you hated these questions after Chet died?"

Shawn turned towards the door. "Okay I get it. I'll go."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Eh, it's not like I didn't have a few cheap shots coming my way. Don't worry about it."

"I hadn't seen Nan in almost a year. Now she's dead and I'll never get the chance again."

"I get it. I didn't see Chet for a long time before he blew into town just long enough to drop dead on me."

"Yeah, but you had no control over Chet and where he was. That was his doing. Nan called and asked me to visit all the time. I put her off. That's on me. I have to live with that."

"Why didn't you want to see her? I thought you two had a good relationship." He then remembered Nan was her maternal grandmother. "Does it have anything to do with your mom?"

Angela crossed her arms. "It's complicated."

"We used to be able to talk about anything," he said when she didn't elaborate. "I could tell you stuff even Cory wouldn't understand."

"It's not my fault that stopped."

"I know. Still…if you need someone to talk to-"

"I have someone to talk to."

"-someone else to talk to, I mean, someone to understand…" he trailed off.

She was quiet. After everything that had happened between them could she really trust Shawn again, even as a friend? That remained to be seen. She'd dealt with his ever changing moods and drama for too long to believe it would be this easy. "I'll let you know. But thanks."

He offered her a half-hearted smile that he was sure in no way looked genuine. But it was all he had to give right now. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Hey, my geology class let out early so I grabbed lunch so we could hang-" Eric froze when he saw Shawn standing in the room. "Hey. What-uh-what's going on?"

Shawn jumped. "Nothing! I just…I was-"

"My arms were full of books and the stupid key jammed in the lock again," Angela answered. "He got the door open because if it was up to me I would've kicked it down."

"I think the school would charge you for that," he said.

"That's what I told her."

"You know what you should do," he said as squeezed past Shawn and put the food on the desk, "you should just go to the dean. We hooked her up with Feeny. That's got to count for a favor somewhere. Yeah, there are more fun things to ask for than a lock, but you and Topanga need a door that works." Angela laughed. "What?"

"I said the same thing a little while ago."

"You know it's an invasion of privacy to read my thoughts."

"Before you even have the thought?"

"Especially before I have the thought! That makes it super invasion-y." He frowned, knowing that wasn't right. "Invasionist. What the hell am I trying to say?"

"Invasive," Shawn replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

He snapped his fingers. "That's the word."

"I'm going to go. I have to be at the photography studio in a little bit so…" he trailed off.

"Thanks again for getting the door open," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You okay," Eric asked after he was gone.

She lay back on her bed. "I'm as okay as I get lately."

"You should eat something. You'll feel better."

"Nan was an executive chef. I see food and I think of her."

"But it's fast food and that hardly counts as real food."

"I don't know."

He held up a cup and one of the bags. "I got us curly fries and you a chocolate chip milkshake. You have to have these now. At least the burger or chicken tenders you can reheat."

She perked up slightly. "Chocolate chip milkshake?"

"Extra chocolate chips."

"Okay," she relented, sitting up. "You win. I'll have the fries and the shake."

"Cool." Eric handed them over and sat beside her on the bed.

"Did you tell Morgan I'd help her with her poem for English?"

"Yeah, I did. You know you don't have to. I told her you've got a lot going on and-"

"I don't mind. I like Morgan. I want to hang out and get to know her better. Besides, I could use the distraction."

"All right. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to." He watched quietly as Angela put what was left of her shake in the mini fridge and her fries on the nightstand before she laid down. "You okay?"

"Tired."

"Do you want me to go so you can take a nap?"

"I mean…not unless you have to."

"Nope, I don't need to take over the coffeehouse for another two hours. I'm all yours'." Angela grabbed onto his arm and pulled him down until he was lying beside her. Eric hoped that she would talk a bit more. He wanted her to open up to him about this the way they have with everything else. Instead she put the TV on and channel surfed until she came to a sitcom rerun. "Ooh, Three's Company. I hope it's the one with the misunderstanding."

"Isn't that every episode?" She wrapped his arm more securely around her and leaned back against his chest. "My dad called," she said a while later, as one episode ended and another began.

"Oh?"

"He knew it was a longshot, but he wasn't able to get a furlough for Nan's service. Apparently the death of a former mother-in-law doesn't rank high enough. Plus his request was very last minute and this weekend is Mother's day so lots of people put in for time off."

"I'm sorry. That sucks." He reached for her hand and held it tight. "You know you're not facing this alone, right? I'm going to be there."

"Eric, I already said that you didn't have to-"

"I want to."

Angela knew she could argue, but by this point it was safe to say she wouldn't win. Hell, she didn't want to win this one. She twisted around in his arms so they were face to face. "Thank you."

"What time do you want to leave for the funeral home tomorrow?"

"Around Two. What about your statistics class? You've been doing so well."

"I told the professor what was going on and it turns out when you're not trying to fool them with a ridiculous lie, they're cool."

"I'm sure it helps that you've been going to class, turning in homework, and passing all of your tests and quizzes for months, right?"

"Totally! Anyway, she said I'm doing well enough she doesn't think missing one class will mess me up since it's mostly review. It might be a first for me. I don't know if I've ever been in a place where I can afford to ditch class."

She smiled, happy to have something to smile about after the last few days. "That's great. Next time we'll have to make sure you miss class because of something more fun."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to make it sound like I was happy to be missing class."

"That's okay." She sighed. "I tried calling a few more flower shops."

"And?"

"Nothing. One of them said they could special order them, but they wouldn't get here until next week and for the price they quoted I'd have to take out a loan."

"You know if you can't get the flowers it's not the end of the world."

"I know, but at least I would feel like I did something for her. I ignored her dinner invitations for months and kept our phone calls short even though she had something important to talk about. I didn't tell her what was going on with me and I certainly never asked for details of her life." She blinked furiously to keep her tears at bay. "It's a shame she was stuck with such an ungrateful brat for a granddaughter. Nan deserved better than me."

"Don't do this." He held her tight. "You can't keep beating yourself up for the past."

"So I should what, focus on the future? I don't know what your crystal ball shows, but in mine Nan is still gone."

"I just meant-"

She pulled away from him and sat up. "What does it matter anyway? Why are we even talking about this? Talking won't change anything."

"But you'll feel better."

"Oh, yeah, I feel great now."

Eric tried to remember what his mom said about people lashing out against those closest to them because it was "safe." He took a deep breath. "Tell me what the right thing is to say and I'll say it."

"Stop acting like this is something that can be fixed. You can give all the advice and pep talks you want, but it doesn't change anything." Angela lifted a photograph of her with her grandmother off of her desk. "You can't positive think Nan back to life."

"I just want to make you feel better. That's all."

"You can't. Not right now."

"Sorry, guess I screwed up."

She sat back down next to him and didn't fight it when Eric pulled her into an embrace. "You didn't. There's just this thing with you Matthews'. You've always gotta help, always gotta fix. Even when the situation can't be fixed you try. It's a damn birth defect with you people. Your family should be studied for this. You're a bunch of freaks."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, uncertain if he was saying the right thing.

"It's okay. I'll yell at your parents later."

"Get me a front row seat to that show." He smiled but she didn't smile back. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Go to work. I need to be alone. Maybe I'll study or maybe I'll wallow and cry while watching the rest of these Three's Company reruns. I'm not sure yet. But I need to be alone for a little while."

"You'll eat the food I brought?"

"I'll eat something."

"If you need me-"

"I know where to find you." Angela melted against him and rested her head against his chest. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't mean to act like a bitch. You're not the one I'm mad at."

Eric wanted to tell her to not be mad at herself, but worried that would start everything all over again. Instead he kissed her and left for the coffeehouse, albeit reluctantly. All he could do now was pray that Mr. Feeny came through with the flowers and that they make it through the visitation without incident. Was that too much to ask? For Angela's sake he hoped not.

/

/

"That's a pretty sweater."

Angela repeatedly ran her hands over the lavender cardigan, smoothing away wrinkles that were no longer there. "Nan crocheted it for me a few years ago."

"Wow, I knew she was a chef. I didn't know she crocheted, too."

She nodded. "Yeah, it was one of her favorite hobbies…at least before arthritis got bad. The gray dress is okay, right," she asked, studying her reflection in the mirror. "My only black dresses are either better for a night out or seemed too casual. Although, I don't know why I'm worried. It's not like Nan is going to sit up and start criticizing my wardrobe."

Topanga was quiet, watching as Angela continued to get ready. The distance that had grown between them was never more apparent that it was in these quiet moments in their dorm. "Here, let me." She took the necklace and secured it around her friend's neck.

"Thanks."

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? You shouldn't go through this alone."

"I won't be alone. I have Eric. Besides, I'm only going to be there for an hour or so. That's all the time I have before other people start showing up."

"Afraid you're going to run into your mother?"

"Way to state the obvious," she muttered. "No wonder they made you valedictorian. Your knack for words is uncanny."

Her eyebrows shot up at the bite in Angela's words but she reminded herself that it was the grief talking. "I'm sorry. I'm not good with death."

"Show me someone who is."

"Touché. Still, I get tongue-tied and the wrong words come out."

"That's true. I remember the day of Chet Hunter's burial you tried to console Shawn by telling him that at least now he would always know where his dad was."

Topanga covered her face with her hands, still embarrassed by that spectacular faux pas. "See? People die and my foot goes in my mouth. It's practically a reflex."

"Maybe it's Cory rubbing off on you. After all, who says the most awkward things at the worst times more than him?"

"But he means well and you know he'd be at the funeral home, too, if you asked."

She checked the clock. It was almost time to leave. While Angela appreciated the offer of support, they'd been drifting apart for months. In fact, to her it often felt like she and Eric had become their own little island and existed just outside the lives of their so-called friends. She wasn't sure how to fix it, but she knew the time to try wasn't at her grandmother's funeral. "I can't deal with other people right now. It's nothing personal against you, Cory, or anyone but this is how I'm handling it. I'm trying to make peace with how I left things with Nan. All I want to do is make it through the day in one piece. An audience wouldn't help me."

"Okay," Topanga relented. She was being petty. Today wasn't about her or their friendship. "But if you need something, all you have to do is ask."

"I know."

"And the gray dress looks nice."

"Really?" Angela smoothed it out once more. "You think?"

She smiled. "Nan would approve."

/

/

"Oh, Eric! Good, I'm glad I caught you." He was afraid he'd missed him and Angela, but then he spotted Eric pacing in the courtyard.

"Cutting it a little close there, Feeny," he lectured.

"Pardon me, but I just spent part of the morning at the warehouse of a major courier company to intercept an international delivery of Lily of the Valley before the rest of the mid-Atlantic region got their hands on them."

His eyes were wide. "Are you serious? You didn't actually break any laws, did you? I was just kidding about the black market stuff. I'm too pretty to go to jail!"

"Eric, be serious. There was nothing illegal involved. I talked to some florists I knew and they let me know when the deliveries usually came in. Then I talked to a former student who is now a supervisor at the courier company." George held out a small bouquet. "It's not much, but I was able to secure-"

"You got my flowers?"

They turned around and saw Angela in the doorway. "Hey, I didn't want to get your hopes up in case things fell through, but-"

"You got my flowers," she repeated, not quite believing what she was seeing. She'd resigned herself to not finding Nan's beloved blooms and letting her down. "I can't believe it." By the time she was standing in front of the two men she was fighting back tears. "Thank you."

George hadn't expected the hug and froze. "Oh, you-you're welcome. But it was Eric really."

"Don't be so modest, Feeny. Yeah, it was my idea, but you made it happen. He risked the floral mafia and everything."

Angela pulled away and wiped her eyes, careful not to ruin her make-up. "Floral mafia? Mr. Feeny, what is he talking about?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. I'm only sorry I couldn't get a larger arrangement."

"No, this is perfect. You don't know how much I appreciate this. How much do I owe you?"

George shook his head. "You don't owe me a dime. I'm just glad I could help." He placed the bouquet in her hands. "I am sorry about your grandmother. If you need to talk my door is always open."

"Thank you, Mr. Feeny." The moment they were alone Angela turned her attention to her boyfriend. "I can't believe you."

"What?"

"Why did you do this?" She held up the flowers. "How did you do it?"

"Anyone else would've done the same thing."

"No, most people would've found replacement flowers or shown up empty handed. Most people don't get their teachers to stalk a FedEx or UPS warehouse to pounce on a flower delivery."

"Hey, that was Feeny. I just asked if he knew a flower guy."

"Still, you asked."

Eric wrapped his arms around her waist. "I care about you and I hate to see you beat yourself up for stuff that's not your fault. I thought if I could get the flowers maybe it would help a little."

"You were wrong."

He deflated just a bit, but tried not to let it show. "Sure, I mean it was dumb to think that flowers would fix anything. Your grandmother is still-" He was cut off when she kissed him. "I don't get it," he said when they separated several seconds later.

"The flowers don't help a little. They help a lot." She stared at the delicate white bulbs. "If anything they're proof that I'm really not facing this alone. I have someone who cares about me enough to…" She wasn't sure how to put her feelings into words. "…well international trade laws may have been broken. That says it all."

"Enough fawning over Feeny. I'm getting a little jealous here," he teased. "What about me?"

Angela kissed him once more. "Thank you," she whispered, more serious than before. "Just…thank you."

"You're welcome." He brushed a few pieces of hair out of her face. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'm more ready than I was before."

/

/

"Angela!"

Eric did all he could not to wince as Angela's nails dug into his arm as a woman approached them in the vestibule of the funeral home. "Aunt Lois," he guessed.

"Yes." She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the meeting. It had been a long time since she had seen her great-aunt, longer than it had been since she last saw Nan. Was it the Christmas before she graduated high school? No, she spent that with her dad. Easter? Yes, it had been Easter. "Hi, Aunt Lois." Angela was not surprised at all to be engulfed in a tight hug. Aunt Lois had always been a big hugger.

"Oh, look at you. How old are you now, nineteen?"

"I will be next month, yes."

"So grown up," she said as she held Angela's hand. "You are the spitting image of your grandmother when she was a young woman."

"I am?"

Lois smiled. "Yes. There are plenty of pictures in the-in the chapel." She reached for tissues in her purse.

"Are you okay? How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. I think it's finally starting to hit me that this is real and permanent, you know? My baby sister isn't playing the world's meanest prank on me."

"I'm sorry."

"I am, too. Your Nan told me about your upcoming dinner. She was excited."

Angela realized that the dinner was supposed to have taken place today. She felt sick. "She was?"

"Yes. She was so proud of you going to college to pursue your dreams of being a writer. She bragged about you constantly to whomever would listen. She missed you like crazy, but-"

"I missed her, too," she said softly, trying to keep her voice neutral. She leaned into Eric when she felt his hand on the small of her back. "I didn't mean for so much time to pass."

"Honey, don't blame yourself. She didn't. College is your priority. She understood that. Still, she was looking forward to dinner and meeting your young man. I'm guessing that's you," Lois said, pointing at Eric.

"Hi, I'm Eric Matthews." He didn't have a free to extend so he offered up the flowers instead.

She gasped. "You found Lily of the Valley? Even I gave up and told the florist to go with sweet peas."

"Eric got them."

"I had a little help."

"Still, you kept trying after I threw in the towel."

"Any man that can conjure up rare flowers is a keeper. Be sure to hang onto him."

"I intend to," Angela said with a smile.

Lois checked the time. "I will leave you alone to have some time in the chapel. No one else should be arriving for another hour and a half or so. I was very clear that this time was yours'."

"I appreciate it."

"If you need anything I will be around either finalizing some things with the funeral director or getting some air in the parking lot."

"Thank you, Aunt Lois."

"You're welcome."

/

When Angela released his hand upon entering the chapel, Eric decided to stay a few steps behind. Far enough away to give her privacy but close enough to be there if she needed him. Instead he took the opportunity to study the pictures. Lois was right. Angela bore a great resemblance to her grandmother. It seemed she had lived quite a full life and always had a smile on her face. She looked like she had been a fun person. He couldn't help but laugh when he spotted Sgt. Moore in one of the photographs sporting a mustache. He would have to tease him about that the next time they saw each other.

"Eric?"

Angela was now sitting in the front row of chairs, tissues clenched in her hand. He put the picture down and went to sit beside her. "How are you holding up?"

"I wish you were meeting her at dinner tonight instead of like this."

"Me, too." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "If the pictures are anything to go by she looked like a cool lady. What was her name?"

"Claudia. Claudia Iris Bell."

"That's pretty." Eric noticed that the bouquet they brought was now resting with her. "It's a good name, nicer than Grandma Bernice's name. She's always hated it. It's probably bad I can't remember Nana Boo Boo's real name, right? I think it's Myra. Or is it Myrna? It's one of those." He realized he was rambling and that Angela wasn't paying him any attention. He kissed her cheek. "Sorry."

He wasn't sure how long they sat there. Most of it was spent silently holding hands, but occasionally Angela would tell a story about Nan and no matter how it started they ended up laughing. To him it was a good sign.

"I suppose we should go," she said eventually. "Just let me say good-bye."

"Want me to go up there with you?"

"Thanks, but no. This…this is between me and Nan."

"Okay."

A few minutes later they were walking hand in hand to the back of the chapel. When they were passing the piano Angela couldn't help but reach out and run her free hand along the edge. The moment she realized what she was doing she recoiled, moving away as if the instrument would bite.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I don't know why I did that. I haven't touched a piano in years."

"It's natural. Seeing all the pictures probably reminded you of-" He was cut off by a commotion in the vestibule.

"No! You are not supposed to be here yet. I promised Angela."

"But, she's my mother! You can't keep me from her."

"What's going on," Eric asked. She didn't answer. She just kept walking. "Angela?"

"Mom?"

"Angela, hello. I-uh-I didn't realize that you would still be-"

It never occurred to her that she would see her mother, not really. She believed, given the circumstances, the woman would want to avoid conflict. That they would run into each other never crossed Angela's mind as a legitimate possibility.

"I-I'm sorry." She cleared her throat. "But it's my mother and I-"

"Mothers? Like you care so much about mothers?"

"June bug, please."

She flinched at the mention of her childhood moniker and in that moment any grief she felt morphed into white, hot rage directed at the woman who gave her life. "Don't call me that! You lost the right to cutesy nicknames the minute you walked out on me."

"Camille," a man called out as he came through the front door. "Camille, I found your sheet music under the passenger seat." He instantly picked up on the tension in the room. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine, Byron," she responded, her voice strangled. "Everything is fine."

"You-uh…you must be Angela," he said. "I've heard a lot about you."

Angela didn't hear him. Instead she was focused on the two children, a boy and a girl, he held by their hands. There was no mistaking who they were. The resemblance was too strong. She wasn't an only child after all.

"Mommy, I saw a ladybug outside and it was just like the ones on my sweater that Nannie made!"

"That's my ladybug sweater. Nan made that for me for picture day in kindergarten." She thought it was packed away with stuff her dad saved. "What isshe doing with it?"

"I saw it at Nannie's house and mommy said I could have it," the girl answered, oblivious to the drama around her.

"It's my sweater."

Camille crouched down in front of her daughter. "I bet it was a pretty ladybug that you saw, Mercy." She could feel Angela's eyes burning a hole into her back but couldn't bring herself to look at her. "Can you do me a favor? Can you and your brother go sit on the couch over there and look at your books so the grownups can finish talking?"

"But I'm eight," the boy spoke up. "I'm not a baby."

"Spencer, just do what I-"

"Eight?!" Angela tried to do the math in her head, but admittedly she was a little off her game. "What, you left me and dad and turned around and started a new family right away?"

Eric put his hands on her waist. "Angela, wait."

"Why should I?"

"They're children," he said quietly. "They didn't do anything wrong."

"She took my sweater. It's mine. I want it back." She stared at…Mercy? Is that what they called her? "Give me my sweater."

"Come on, kids," Lois interrupted, "I have some candy canes in my purse for you." She took their hands and led them away.

"Look, Angela," Camille began, her voice wavering, "I understand you're angry with me. You have every right to be, but please don't-"

"You're giving me permission to hate you for abandoning me? Seriously? How magnanimous of you! Well, you don't have to worry, mom, I don't hate you. I nothing you."

"You nothing…what does that mean?"

"As far as I'm concerned you may as well be in the casket with Nan because you're as dead as she is." Her mother reacted as though she had been dealt a physical blow and Angela wanted to be unaffected, but she could feel the tears stinging her eyes. Still, she refused to show an ounce of weakness to the woman. "Let's go, Eric," she said before bolting out the door.

He caught up with her in the parking lot. She was leaning against his car, staring at the cloudless sky. The innocence on her face rivaled that of the five year old they just met. Her sister, he supposed. "Angela…"

"She's got kids."

*And yes, Lily of the Valley CAN be that impossible to find. When my own grandmother died a few years ago we had to get artificial flowers because we just missed the window for their little season and the cost was outrageous.*