6 - Pages of Sin

spare us and it was thoughtful of you to offer, Becky. You’re very good to do all that for us.”
    “And Brooklyn is taking some of her books,” Mom rushed to add, wearing a proud smile. “She’s a very talented bookbinder, so she’ll repair them and use them for teaching classes.”
    “Oh, how fascinating,” Elaine said, but I could tell she was distracted as she glanced around at the massive amount of furniture and tchotchkes. “So, you make books?”
    “Yes, and repair and restore them, too.”
    “How clever.” She nodded, but was still too unfocused to show much real interest. I couldn’t blame her, since her sister had died so recently. However, the weird vibe I was getting from her didn’t have a thing to do with mourning.
    Glancing around the room, she asked casually, “So, is Byron here?”
    “No, he’s at work,” Mom said. “I doubt he’ll be home much before six o’clock tonight.”
    Elaine seemed relieved by the news, but as she continued to gaze around the cluttered space, her eyes clouded up. “I’ve never been inside Wanda’s house. Marjorie warned me not to come here today, but I thought . . .”
    “It’s good that you came,” Mom assured her quickly. “Do you want to look around?”
    But Elaine wasn’t paying attention as she drifted over to sit on the edge of a faded toile-covered settee with a high back and spindly legs. She stroked the wood frame along the back of the piece. “This was my grandmother’s. I remember it from the family farm in Saratoga.”
    I thought the fragile loveseat didn’t look strong enough to have survived a house full of farmers. But it dawned on me that by family farm, Elaine probably meant massive country estate with multiple servants and elegant stables and thoroughbred ponies cavorting on the lawns.
    “It’s a lovely piece,” Mom said agreeably.
    Elaine’s gaze slowly swept the room. “She has everything. All of Grandmama’s and Mummy’s furniture is here, and most of Aunty Bitsy’s things, too.”
    Mom shot me a look of concern, then fixed a smile on her face for Elaine. “How nice that everything is in one place now. You and Marjorie will be able to—”
    “Oh, my God!” Elaine stood abruptly. She darted around and through the obstacle course of furniture over to a gilded table in the corner. There she held up a delicate porcelain figurine of a shepherd girl. “This is mine!”
    I cleared my throat. “Wasn’t it sweet of Wanda to keep it safe for you?”
    Elaine’s shoulders fell and she whirled around to face us. “You must think I’m awful. But there are so many memories in this room, I’m a little overwhelmed. I should just take this piece and go.”
    “You don’t have to go,” Mom said, winding her way over to Elaine, then putting her arm around the smaller woman. “Stay here and go through Wanda’s things. I’m sure Byron would want you to have anything you wanted to––”
    “He won’t,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “He hates me. We had a fight.”
    “Oh, sweetie,” Mom said, and wrapped both her arms around Elaine. “I’m so sorry. But this is the perfect time to mend fences, don’t you think?”
    It was all the permission Elaine needed and she burst into tears, burying her face in Mom’s shoulder. My own eyes were glittering with tears since I was a sympathetic crier.
    After a moment of quiet weeping, Elaine lifted her head and sniffed a few times. “Oh dear.” She took a quick step back, opened her navy Coach purse, and found a tissue, then used it to dab her eyes and blow her nose. “That’s not the first time that’s happened since I got the news.”
    Mom squeezed her arm lightly. “We all need to let our feelings out once in a while.”
    “I suppose, but . . .” She sucked in a heavy breath, then took a step back from my mother, clearly flustered by her emotional display. “We don’t do that.”
    We don’t do what? I wondered. Show emotion? And who was we ? Did she mean the Royal We ? Is that what came from spending too many years living in a drafty English castle?
    Mom chose to ignore Elaine’s statement. “Gosh, Elaine. It must be at least fifteen years since we’ve talked.” Mom’s voice was cheerful in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation and the mood. “You moved away around the time Wanda and Byron were married, didn’t you? I know you’ve been back and forth a few times, but we haven’t had a chance to spend any time together. What have