As the days passed, Gwen saw more subtle changes. The porch was swept, a broken garden chair disappeared, things were tidier. Elizabeth never sought credit. Gwen’s gratitude mingled with caution—she wasn’t used to this version of her stepdaughter.
One afternoon, returning from the garden, Gwen overheard Elizabeth calmly arranging details with the florist. “Needed a final headcount,” she explained, holding up the list. Gwen thanked her. “You already have too much going on,” Elizabeth replied simply. The new dynamic was practical, almost peaceful.
Evenings became less strained. Gwen and Elizabeth shared tea and quietly read sympathy cards together. When Gwen struggled to draft an email to the insurance company, Elizabeth took the laptop and wrote it in a polite but firm tone that was exactly right. Gwen clicked send without edits. That night, they ate in front of the television for the first time since Albert’s death, and the silence between them was not uncomfortable.