Sheila took off her boots and padded to the kitchen in her socks. She plugged in the kettle and turned to the tea caddy. The day was cold and snowy – a perfect day for a strong Earl Grey. She took down the china teapot and strainer from their shelf and added a good measure of leaves to the pot.
She chose the blue daisy teacup from the curio cabinet and set it on the counter. She added a small dollop of milk and leaned against the counter to wait for the water to boil.
She rubbed her arms with her hands and pondered the morning’s events. Chosing the casket, while vaguely creepy, had been surprisingly easy. There had been a small, unadorned model in cherry that had exactly matched her Aunt Audrey’s sideboard. She thought Auntie would have been pleased with that.
The kettle whistled and she paused in her ruminations to pour the water over the tea leaves.
The hymns and readings had been easy to decide on, too. All she’d had to do was let Auntie’s hymnal fall open where it may. Her best-loved hymns could be found where the corners were dog-eared and the spine was fatigued.
She swirled the pot once and poured out the tea, through the strainer and into the waiting milk. She lifted the cup and saucer before her and breathed deeply. The aroma of bergamot brought her favourite Aunt almost right back into the room.
The eulogy was yet to be written. This would be difficult.
Teacup in hand, its warmth and memories fortifying her for the journey ahead, Sheila headed for her study to write an account of the most influential and most loved woman in her life.