How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

"All right, take care on your way."

Elodie didn't bother to explain why she wasn't leaving with Jarrod.

She knew exactly where he was headed-straight to Sylvie.

There was no way he'd waste his precious time with Sylvie just to give her a ride home.

The next two days passed in silence.

Nothing from Sylvie, and Jarrod didn't reach out to Elodie, either.

She wasn't sure if this meant things were over, but with everything else demanding her attention, she found it impossible to feel at ease.

On Friday morning, Jarrod finally called. His tone was neutral, almost cold. "Octavia's had an allergic reaction again. She refuses to let the staff help and insists you were the only one who didn't make it hurt last time. Could you come take a look at her?"

Elodie pressed her lips together. "...Sure."

Octavia wasn't her responsibility. She could have said no.

But since Jarrod was asking, and this could be seen as a favor, she figured he'd have no reason to hold the gallery situation over her head anymore.

"That painting-"

"Jarrod, what do you think of this dress?" Sylvie's gentle voice floated through from his end of the line.

It was barely past nine in the morning the busiest time of day—and he was out shopping with Sylvie?

The call disconnected abruptly.

was long used to being

requested a day off and

slightest provocation. Her skin would break out in itchy, painful rashes, and she'd

to treat her-doctor or staff

three years, she'd tended to

come

mixed emotion. She'd sworn to Jarrod she would never set foot here again, and yet, here she was, swallowing

probably think she was

met her at the door, offering her a pair

Jarrod's grandmother came over to warm Elodie's hands. "She's upstairs, making a fuss. Only

kept quiet, heading straight upstairs to check

in. "Were you crawling here on all fours? What took you so long? I'm itching like

walked over. "Lift

pouted, unimpressed by Elodie's indifference. "Do you have to be so

all it took.

seemed to think Elodie should be available on demand, as if her own

you eat walnuts?"

by how quickly Elodie had figured

Elodie was a good person-few women were as meticulous or reliable. For three years, Elodie had looked

Octavia still didn't

better candidates for her brother's wife, and she wasn't

Elodie would stop competing for the title of Mrs. Silverstein and learn her place, things would be so