Page 65 of Unconventionally, Elle
"I never imagined so many people would come on Christmas Eve," I whispered to Emma, who was seated on my left. Barrettwas on my right with his hand on my thigh, mindlessly drawing circles with his forefinger. Mrs. Henry was flanked by Barrett and Olivia.
"It's a Henry funeral," Emma whispered back and gave a slight shrug.
"Hey, did you notice Margaret is here?" I murmured as the flowers were laid across the top of the coffin.
Emma looked back at her, pretended to search for someone else, and then turned back around.
"Way to not make it obvious," I said with a small grin.
"Oh shit," she muttered.
"Shit?" I asked.
"Yeah, I mean, of course she's here, but since she and my brother split up, they haven't been in the same room together," she whispered behind her program.
My face blanched. I didn't realize they hadn't seen each other since the breakup, and now she was here when he was feeling vulnerable and upset.
"No, don't worry. They were awful together. She was manipulative, and in case you haven't noticed, Barrett's a people pleaser. She owned him." Emma rolled her eyes and cleared her throat quietly.
"Oh no, it's not that. I'm just worried how Barrett will react when he sees her," I admitted.
"I can't imagine she'd start anything at the funeral. She knows better." Emma glanced back again, this time looking right at Margaret, who met her stare with a blank expression.
I never went out of my way to talk with Margaret at the office, especially after the dinner from hell with Barrett's parents, when they couldn't stop singing her praises. However, I felt slightly uncomfortable knowing she was seated a few rows behind me and could possibly cause Barrett more distress.
After the funeral service concluded, I stayed seated while Barrett circulated, shaking hands and accepting condolences on behalf of the family. Mr. Henry wished to be cremated and his ashes spread in Boston Harbor, so there wasn't going to be a funeral procession.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flash of red hair pass through the aisle. I looked up and saw Margaret heading straight to Barrett. I watched as he became aware of her stalking toward him. Someone was talking to him, but he ignored the conversation and had his narrowed eyes set on Margaret's prowl. I was stuck in the pew; my body wouldn't move. What was she going to do? I watched the inevitable scene unfold, a spectator just like everyone else.
Barrett excused himself from the conversation, never taking his eyes from Margaret. She stood close to him, too close, and sneered at him with her arms folded across her chest. I felt like I was watching a bomb tick down to zero as the tension rolled off their bodies.
They weren't arguing, but then I noticed she said something that caused Barrett to jerk backward. His eyes went wide, and his handsome face drained of all remaining color. I noticed him look down, and Margaret handed him a ripped piece of paper. Then she whipped around, gave a quick smile and nod to Olivia and Mrs. Henry, and left Barrett standing ashen and motionless except for shallow breaths.
As she walked by me, her eyes met mine, but they weren't angry. They weren't malevolent. They were full of pity, and I didn't understand why.
I made my way to Barrett, zigzagging through fellow mourners. He was reading the note in his hand and didn't look up as I approached.
"Elle. Hey," he said, voice distant.
"Barrett, are you okay?" I reached up and stroked his forearm. "I saw Margaret talking to you and I wanted to get over here, but--"
He cut me off before I could finish explaining why he'd had to take her on alone. "Yeah, I, um"--he brushed his hand through his styled espresso-brown hair--"it's just a lot to figure out, that's all." He offered me a feeble smile and slipped the note into his coat pocket. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "Let's go home--oh, wait. Really quick, I promise, I need to go see my mom."
I nodded and let his hand drop again so he could find Mrs. Henry.
I'd had enough of dead bodies, overcrowded rooms, and ex-girlfriends. My anxiety was in rare form, I was overstimulated, and I needed to get a breath of fresh air. I reached for my purse and made my way to the exit.
I walked to the right of the building. Snow was still shimmering on the ground, and I followed a brick path toward some iron benches. I stopped short when I noticed Margaret's red hair. She was sitting on one of the benches, her back turned. I heard her speaking but didn't see anyone nearby. I assumed she was on the phone. I didn't move. I didn't want to bring her attention to my presence.
"No, Mom, I'm okay. Yes, I told him. No, he didn't say anything. I gave him the paper." Her voice was clear and crisp. I couldn't ignore it if I wanted to.
Told him what?
"He knows. Yes. He knows. I don't know. Okay, love you too. Okay, bye." She sighed, and a cloud of warmth clashed with the frosty temperature outside. She slipped her phone into her purse, and before I could make my legs move, she stood up and turned in my direction. She saw me right away. Surprise rushed across her face, her lifted eyebrows and open mouth confirmingthat she'd had no idea I was steps away while she talked to her mother. The shock on her face matched the horror on mine.
"What did you hear?" she demanded, her lips lifted into a fierce snarl.
Dumbfounded, I didn't say anything. I stared at her with my mouth moving and no words coming out.
