Elizabeth walked with her to the church office. She reached for Gwen’s folder without hesitation. “Here—let me carry that,” she said gently. Gwen hesitated, then handed it over. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but brushed away her scepticism by owing it to grief.
The meeting passed in a blur. Gwen answered questions, nodded at timelines, and picked out music. Elizabeth sat beside her, offering quiet support. Not inserting herself. Not correcting. Just there. Gwen kept glancing at her, half-expecting a roll of the eyes, interjections, or clashing opinions. But nothing came.