Page 7 of Share with Me

Saying “I don’t feel like it” to Aunt Ella was like saying no to Grandpa Brooks. “If I’m around, of course. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

“This Saturday?”

Aunt Ella nodded.

“I guess I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Brin. You know this could be the last time I see you.”

“You said that last year, Aunt Ella.” And every year before that since Grandpa Brooks had passed away.

A flurry of server activities around them caught Brinley’s attention. “Let’s get to our seats, Aunt Ella.”

“Time to eat!” Aunt Ella’s eyes positively sparkled. She shuffled forward more quickly.

“Yes, ma’am.” Brinley matched her pace.

Dear Aunt Ella. No husband. No children. No grandchildren. She lived in a big old house that Grandpa Brooks had bought for her. It came with a housekeeper, a cook, a round-the-clock caregiver, and all the money in the world she could spend.

Alone.

All alone.

Brinley wondered if she might end up like that. She held her great-aunt’s wobbly, fragile elbow. “Where are you sitting, Aunt Ella?”

Aunt Ella pointed to the empty seat two place settings away from a diminutive silver-haired lady smiling at something Quincy said to her. She was wearing a dress that Brinley thought she’d seen in World War II museums. It looked like cotton. Maybe it was from the era. A history buff, she had to know. Dad had often teased her about the misappropriation of her MBA because she was more at home as a historian and preservationist than as the top sales executive at Brooks Investments.

“I’ll sit next to you,” Brinley offered.

“Where’s Phinn going to sit?”

Phinn?

“Phinn and I are not together anymore, Aunt Ella.”

“Good for you. Everybody, but you, knew he’s a loser.”

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