"Wait," Evelyn called out to the two officers who were about to turn and leave. "We're only here visiting relatives and will be heading back in a couple of days. If there's anything else, I hope you can wrap up the questions soon."
"It's fine, it's fine. This case is pretty much closed. No need to worry at all."
Watching the group's backs as they walked away, Evelyn closed her eyes for a brief silence, then turned around with her expression completely unchanged. "Check if the herbal tonic is ready. What does Nate feel like eating for lunch?"
"Eve, are you okay?"
"What could be wrong with your sister? It has nothing to do with us, and there's nothing worth paying attention to."
Wade Harlan's death stirred no joy or sorrow in Evelyn. Everything about him was so insignificant in her eyes—like a tiny insect crawling past underfoot, not even worth a glance. Even hatred felt unnecessary… unless it had frightened her little brother.
She glanced up at the white dress hanging on the clothesline. The warm sun was high and bright today, perfect for drying. The dress was nearly dry already—pure white, spotless, without a speck of dust.
"Oh, right." Evelyn tapped Noah lightly on the head. "We agreed you have to call me sister properly. No shortening it to one word."
"I'm just used to it. I'll be more careful from now on."
Noah gave her a goofy smile. Evelyn said nothing more and went back to the kitchen. The bitter scent of the herbal tonic had already filled the air. She poured it carefully into a porcelain bowl and carried it gently into Aunt Claire's room, helping the woman drink it.
"It was so noisy outside just now. Did they come causing trouble again?" Aunt Claire took a sip of the medicine and asked anxiously.
"Wade Harlan died. The police came to ask some questions."
"Died?!" Aunt Claire, unlike Evelyn, couldn't stay calm. Shock filled her eyes. It took her a long moment to settle. "That scoundrel… good that he's dead, good that he's dead. How did he die?"
"The police said he slipped and fell into the river, hit his head on a rock."
"I see… I see."
"Alright, Aunt Claire, don't think about him anymore." Evelyn scooped up a spoonful and brought it to the woman's lips. "Finish the tonic and rest well."
Aunt Claire looked at her, gave a helpless little smile—weak yet tender. "Eve, your aunt is leaving soon. Drinking this won't add many more days."
"How can you say that? This tonic…" Evelyn sighed and lowered the spoon, her eyes full of quiet loss.
Uncle Dale had already told her the truth. This tonic was something they had given Aunt Claire earlier. The illness was too far gone now; there was no turning back. Brewing and drinking it anymore was only self-deception, completely pointless.
But Evelyn couldn't accept it. In the darkest times of her past, Aunt Claire had been the only warmth she had. They were blood relatives, connected by blood after all. How could she just watch her die?
"Alright, alright, don't be sad." Aunt Claire gently stroked her face, her voice soft and intimate. "After your aunt is gone, you're not allowed to hold any funeral or set up any reception. Just bury me beside your mother and put up a simple headstone."
"Aunt Claire, please don't talk like that."
"No, I have to say it clearly while I still can." The woman coughed a couple of times, her voice growing weaker. "Your aunt hasn't left behind much in this life. Most of it already went to your uncle. There's some money in here for you."
She pulled a bank card from her pocket and pressed it into Evelyn's hand. "The PIN is your birthday. And… cough, cough… in the nightstand…"
Aunt Claire pointed at the old wooden cabinet beside the bed. Evelyn opened it. Inside, besides a few unfinished packs of pills, was a small red box. She took it out and handed it over. Inside lay an intricately patterned silver bracelet.
Aunt Claire took her hand, watching as the bracelet slid over Evelyn's slender wrist. A gentle smile appeared on the woman's haggard face. "Good, good. I didn't measure the size—I was worried it wouldn't fit."
"This is…"
"Your dowry, of course. I'm sorry there wasn't time to make anything more." She held Evelyn's hand, her calloused palm brushing the smooth skin, then noticed the other beautiful bracelet on her wrist. "Where did this one come from?"
"Nate gave it to me."
"Nate… he really is a good boy. It's a shame your aunt won't get to see the day you two get married."
"Aunt Claire, how did you know…"
"I guessed. The way you look at each other… your aunt always felt there was something there, and I was right." Aunt Claire gazed tenderly at Evelyn, imagining her in a wedding gown, eyes full of warmth, as the boy took her hand. She really wanted to see that day.
"Your aunt believes you won't choose the wrong person—especially a boy you raised yourself. You two have to be good to each other from now on."
"I know. We will. We definitely will."
Hearing her promise, Aunt Claire withdrew her hand and smiled peacefully. "Take the medicine away. I'm not drinking any more. No more."
This time Evelyn didn't insist. She accepted the bank card and bracelet, picked up the bowl, and left the room.
Winter days grew dark quickly. By a little after five the sun was already sinking low. When dusk fell, Aunt Claire asked Evelyn to call Uncle Dale in. He carried her out to the balcony. The two of them sat together on the old wooden chair while Evelyn and Noah stood a little distance away, not wanting to intrude.
Evelyn understood what Aunt Claire meant. When someone is about to die, they usually sense it themselves. She watched the couple sitting close on the balcony, their long shadows stretched by the last rays of sunset, like an old married pair who had supported each other through life and were now walking its final steps together.
"Help your aunt call Dale over. I want to see one last sunset over Maple Ridge." Those were Aunt Claire's final words to her. Dale Thompson… was Uncle Dale's full name.
She couldn't hear what they were saying, but for the first time in a long while she saw a smile on the man's face.
When she was little, Evelyn had always thought Aunt Claire and Uncle Dale didn't get along. The man almost never smiled at Aunt Claire and had never shown her a kind face either—cold to everyone.
Only after returning to Maple Ridge did she learn that years earlier Aunt Claire had been diagnosed with infertility, the condition severe and untreatable by medicine. That was also why, despite being as pretty and delicate as Lily when young, no one had ever pursued her.
A woman who could never have children was still raising a relative's child in the house. Evelyn had never seen Uncle Dale smile, but she had also never seen him lose his temper with Aunt Claire.
And because of taking care of her, Aunt Claire had been endlessly busy and exhausted, constantly facing village gossip, wearing her body and spirit down. That was why Uncle Dale had disliked her before.
In the end, the only word that could explain Aunt Claire and Uncle Dale's marriage was love.
But as the sun was about to disappear completely, a single long tear slid down the man's cheek. Aunt Claire reached up to wipe it away. In the fading light of sunset, Evelyn saw the gentle, beautiful smile on the woman's profile—and after she spoke her very last words to him, her eyes slowly closed for good.