TWENTY-SIX
Lyla dried her hands and hung the towel over the long handle of the oven. The kitchen was at the back of her parents’ house. She walked past the breakfast table, under the large arch, and into the living room where her aunt was sitting on the couch.
“Go on up to bed, Auntie Ann,” she said, watching how the woman struggled to keep her eyes open.
“No, it’s fine. I have to read these,” Ann said.
It was almost impossible to believe that there was so much paperwork involved after someone passed away. But it wasn’t right that her aunt was trying to be so strong when this had to be difficult for her.
A knock on the front door made Lyla exhale.
Damn.
It was late.
She didn’t want the kids to be woken up. Ann turned to look over the back of the couch, probably thinking the same th
