It didn’t look so bad. Her lips were on the thin side, but they were rather nice. It would be a long walk to fix it and her feet hurt.
Her mother-in-law wasn’t around to enforce the codes anymore. That was what she called her mother-in-law’s rigid rules of behavior. The codes. Always look perfect. Never smile too brightly. Clothing should be understated but expensive. A lady never raised her voice or complained.
Why was she still following those rules? And why the hell couldn’t Angie wear her cute shoes to church? Everyone else did. Did God truly care that her daughter was showing some toe cleavage?
But she’d followed them for so long, she wasn’t sure what she would do without them. Those rules had become a road map of sorts, a way to live without risking too much.
Those rules hadn’t saved Wes.
She took a deep breath. The well of her grief seemed never ending, a dark pool that she couldn’t seem to climb out of.
“Mom?” Angie stood in the hallway.
She shook her head. How long had she been standing here staring at herself in the mirror? “Yes?”
“Are you all right? I’m going to change my shoes and then we can go. Unless you’ve changed your mind. No one will care that we miss a single Sunday.”
Oh, but it was only weeks before Angie’s wedding and their absence would absolutely be noted. There would be gossip, and avoiding gossip was the foremost of the codes. She smoothed out her dress and reached for her handbag. It was a sedate Louis Vuitton that went with practically anything. A show of her wealth. “Of course we should go. We need to talk to the priest about changing the candles in the sanctuary before the big day. He’s being unreasonable.”
“I think he’s trying to follow church rules,” Angie replied.
Celeste waved that off. Some rules were made to be broken, especially when an incredibly large check was involved. Money might not be able to purchase happiness, but it could buy candles in the proper color scheme. “It will all work out. I assure you. But, Angie, those shoes are fine for church.”
Her daughter’s eyes went wide. “What?”
It was time to find some compromise with her children. Maybe if she’d . . . No. She wasn’t going there. She was focusing on the future and that meant her living children. She strode to where her daughter stood, looking at her like she’d grown two heads. “I said the shoes are fine. Let’s go.”
Angie stared for a moment more before a slow smile crossed her face. “All right, then.”
It was good to know she could shock her children in good ways from time to time.
And it was good to bend the rules a bit. She took a deep breath as they walked into the morning air. This afternoon she would pay a call on Quaid Havery and inquire about whatever crazy feline organization old Irene had left her house to. Then she would see about finally getting the Guidrys out of her life.
It would be a good day.chapter three“Okay. I haven’t been out here in a long time. Wow.” Sylvie Martine stood in front of her car, her heels sinking slightly into the ground since Irene had never bothered to have the drive paved. It was still the same dirt and gravel drive that had been there since Sera’s great-grandpa’s days. Hallie’s car was parked beside Sylvie’s flashy sedan.
Sera had called Sylvie for a lift because her car needed a new battery and she couldn’t afford one. Again.
Hallie had come straight from mass to support her, though she had texted that she’d already done that by praying the house was still standing when she got there.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Hallie stared up at the house, a look of abject horror in her eyes. “I mean should we go in there? Or should we have hard hats? Maybe I should send Johnny in first. Or we could call Zep. He doesn’t have a child to raise.”
Though he was a pretty good uncle since he was hanging out with Luc this afternoon so she could come and survey the house she’d so recently inherited.
It wasn’t that bad. Sera stood beside her two best friends as the afternoon light illuminated the task in front of her and told herself everything was going to be all right. After all, her aunt had lived here for years and nothing had fallen down around her. Mostly. “I’m pretty sure it’s solid. My great-great-grandfather built it to survive hurricanes. It’s still standing so I think it’s fine. Most of the problems are cosmetic.”
At least she hoped they were. Fifty thousand dollars sounded like a lot of money, but repairs and upgrades were expensive. She might need to take out a loan to get this place into real shape. Could she even get a loan?