It had been a long time.
Years.
Seeing her again would not be easy. They had never really been close. Even growing up. They'd had their differences; so many that the last few times they had been together hadn't ended well. Now, they were forced to be together again.
For their mother's funeral.
She had passed unexpectedly. He had visited her a few months ago—not at the same time as his sister. Over the last few years, he'd made certain that his trips did not coincide with his hers. He knew it upset his mother that she could not have her two children at home together at the same time. But he also knew it was for the best.
Both he and his sister had repeatedly attempted to convince their mother to come live with each them. But she had always refused. She was born in this little town, lived all her life here, had raised her children here, and had no desire to leave. Fortunately, she had many friends, so even though both of her children had moved away to big cities, she was not entirely alone.
The evidence of this as Steve entered the funeral home was the many people that crowded the small viewing parlor, quite possibly most of the town. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the room for his sister, Stella, but he didn't see her. He did notice the woman standing before the open casket. He didn't care for open coffins, preferring to remember the deceased as he known them in life and not laid out in a box. The woman was quite a vision from the rear in a form-fitting, short black dress that revealed a pair of shapely legs.
Shaking his head to clear it from the needed distraction, Steve took a deep breath and headed toward the coffin. He concentrated his attention on his mother rather than the woman, and as he sadly looked at the parent who had meant so much to him, he was completely taken by surprise when the lady in black threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. It took a few seconds for him to realize that this was Stella.
Well, that was nowhere near the greeting he expected.
Stella was obviously emotional, so he allowed her a few minutes to embrace, even hugging her back. It
was
actually comforting.
"I was worried you weren't going to make it," Stella said with a whimper.
"Sorry, my plane was delayed."
Finally, she stepped back, and it was like seeing her for the first time.
"Stella, you look amazing!" Had it been so long that he'd forgotten how beautiful she was? Or had she done something to herself to enhance her looks? And then there was her boobs—had they always been on the large side?
Wiping a tear from her eye, Stella forced a smile. "Thanks. You're looking pretty good yourself." Taking his hand, she led him to a couple of nearby chairs that had been set up for the two of them near the casket so people could pass by to pay their respect. As they sat, she never let go of his hand.
She must really be distraught, Steve thought, to be hanging on to him. Had time healed all? There was a constant flow of people who stopped to offer condolences, and though they all meant well, it quickly became tedious. Finally, it was time for the service. It was sad, to be sure, and the procession and burial that followed were not any easier. And then it was all over. Or was it? They were informed that food and beverages had been brought to their mother's house for a small reception. So, they had to endure a couple more hours of people trying to be nice and telling all their fond stories of their mother.
Their next-door neighbor, Susan, whom Steve had dated in high school approached him during the reception to offer her condolences. They'd ended it when he went off to college, some said because she had gotten too serious with him. Every time he came home for a visit, she suggested they get together; every time he considered doing so, but never did. Today was no different, except that this time her suggestion seemed to be laced with sexual implication.
During all the time they were together on this sorrowful day, Steve and Stella had been tolerant of each other, polite, kind, like there had never been any ill between them. And then, the time came that they were alone.
Stella was sitting in their mother's chair with Steve on the sofa across from her. She actually resembled their mom. The siblings merely stared at one another. For Steve, his silence was due to the awe he felt over Stella's looks. He just couldn't get over how incredible she appeared. He'd been stealing glances at her all day. Her cleavage out of the top of the low-cut dress was eye-catching, as were her legs from the short length of the dress. She had reclined the easy chair which caused her dress to ride up showing considerable thigh, but she did nothing to correct it.
Finally, Stella said, "Thank you so much for coming."
"Not sure how to take that," Steve said, keeping his voice even. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"Oh, no, no, I didn't mean that. I just meant it was comforting having you here, being with you."
Steve hadn't expected that. He didn't know how to take it. Perhaps a similar response was required. But thinking about the answer he was going to give; it was actually true. "Yeah. It was comforting with you, also."
"Are you just saying that?"
"No, I really mean it."
Stella smiled. "Okay. It's just that you keep looking at me strangely."
"I just can't get over how
great
you look. Did you change something, or has it just been so long?"
Stella merely returned a grimace.
Then, it occurred to Steve. "Where's Dave?" Her husband.
Looking down as though to hide something, Stella said, "Yeah, he obviously didn't come."
"Work conflict?"
As though embarrassed, Stella said, "Actually, things have not been all that good between us. I
wanted
to come alone. Might even stay here a while."
"Oh, sis, I'm so sorry." Steve really meant it.
She merely shrugged. "Not sure I am."
"Are you going to divorce him?"
Again, she shrugged. "I don't know yet. That's why I need some time alone."
He nodded.
"I think I need another glass of wine."
"I'll get it for you."
"No, no," she said, rising. "Stay seated. I'll get it. You want some?"
"Sure."
The kitchen was right next to the family room. Steve watched as his sister got up from the chair apparently unconcerned about her dress, what she showed or what she did. He found that curious. She stepped out of her heels and walked into the kitchen. He could see the counter on which the bottles of wine were sitting, and he continued to watch as she poured two glasses. Before carrying them back, Stella raised her skirt up with one hand to scratch an itch on her thigh, again with no regard to his presence.
When Stella returned and handed him a glass of red wine, she sat on the sofa beside him very close. "So, how long can
you
stay?"
He shrugged. "How long do you
want
