Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Sheila opened the door, surprised to find Timothy standing there.

"Timothy, come in. Have a seat."

She reached out, ready to steady him, but Timothy sidestepped her hand. "I can walk on my own."

His sudden coldness stung in a way Sheila couldn't quite put into words. Still, she swallowed her discomfort.

"I'll make you some coffee."

"No need. I won't be staying long."

Sheila felt even more at a loss. What was he here for, then?

Timothy settled into the living room armchair. "Sit down."

Uneasy, Sheila perched on the edge of the couch.

Looking directly at her, Timothy got right to the point. "I just stopped by Ines's studio. From her, I learned that the reason she gave that painting, The Grand Canal, Venice, to Henry, was because she saw Jessy's style in one of Henry's papercut illustrations. So, that painting can't stay with you. I'm here to take it back."

Sheila stared at him, stunned.

This was the first time he'd ever asked to take back something he'd given her.

He really was starting to care more about Jessica.

But she didn't argue. "I see. Since it's hard for you to get around, I'll have someone bring it to you later."

I'll have someone pick it up. Also, about Henry calling you his mother in public-please correct him in the future. All this confusion about family roles has to stop. Jessy cares about it a

as though everything had changed in an

herself to keep her

fall apart. I used to think she could understand our relationship, but I've realized recently that

smile. "Timothy,

Also, you're not getting any younger.

her

do you realize

"I do."

accept me, then I'm your aunt—and as your

her, they were equals. But if he refused her now, she had every right, as his

registration was with the Howards. She was Sandra and

lingered on

Sheila had ever used her status as his aunt

his displeasure, she said quietly, "Sorry. We grew up together, almost as equals, so

really not remember why I gave up back then? For seven years, I kept my distance, never crossing the

tears. "All these years, I've racked my brain looking for ways to solve our problem, to bridge what separated us. Why, when I

voice broke at the

defied his family for

how much I love you. You promised me, even if we got married, we'd keep it secret-that was your promise, proof of

"That wasn't love."

Sheila felt herself unraveling.

all she'd clung to, all these years. She'd waited for him-waited until she was thirty, still a virgin, never even dated, never