Ali stood at the entrance to the small stone church politely listening to the words of condolences of the funeral attendees as they streamed by.

Friends of her father's, employees of Stinson Studios, family acquaintances, golf club comrades. Each person shaking her hand and murmuring about her loss, telling her how much her father will be missed. Standing between her mother and Sam, the soft breeze stirring the feathers in her mother's elaborate fascinator barely touched her.

While Ali had been running around at the last minute making final arrangements for the funeral, her mother had been out. First to the salon to get her hair and nails done. Then to Neiman Marcus to pick up the monstrosity adorning her head because it 'completed' her outfit. Her mother was dressing like it was the social event of the season.

Weariness was settling in Ali's bones. She appreciated the support of Sam, his hand a steady presence on the small of her back as they received more words of sympathy. His thumb randomly massaging small circles of comfort at the base of her spine. At times she had to resist turning and resting her head against his shoulder. Her father would expect her to show no weakness, be a pillar of Stinson strength. Even in death, she wanted to please him.

The funeral had been short. Her father was not a devout man and Ali suspected the only reason they even got a service was due to the large family plot the Stinson's owned and paid to have maintained in the churchyard. Still, quite a crowd had attended, filling up the pews in groups like rows and rows of canned goods on a grocery shelf.

Her father's cronies mingled with familiar faces. Brenda, her husband Brad in tow had arrived early, asking Ali if they could help in any way. Nora, Lester and a group from the company had clustered together at the back of the church. Abe and Mabel Beeton sat together and held hands. Spencer, his wife and two sons positioned behind her.

And of course, there was Jack.

Ali knew Jack dreaded anything to do with death. As a result, he was subdued and almost invisible, sitting alone a few rows back from Ali and her mother. Upon hearing of Daniel Stinson's demise, Jack had found himself very busy at work, unable to spend much attention to Lynn in her time of need. Typical Jack. Whenever there was a chance a feeling might emerge, he disappeared. Yet, Ali was grateful for the reprieve.

A few of the attendees had surprised her. She spotted Emily right away. She recognized the other woman's fiancée Finn first, his tall profile standing out in the sea of faces like a beacon. Beside him, her friend had waved at Ali upon making eye contact. Next to her sat Charlie and Sam's parents, Evelyn and Christopher Harrington. And most surprising of all, was Leif Stewart, his red hair shocking against the backdrop of black suits. It made Ali's insides clench when she realized they all made the trip out here to support her.

She took another hand, words of thanks on her lips when she found herself being pulled into a strong hug. The scent of bergamot and lemongrass tickling her nose.

"Oh, kitten. It was a lovely service," Jonathan whispered in her ear. "Poppa would be proud of you."

"He definitely would have approved of my attire." When she packed her bags back in New York Ali hadn't expected to attend a funeral and as such was severely lacking in anything sombre never mind black. Now famous designer Jonathon Sparks had come to her rescue again whipping up an offset number somehow managing to make Ali respectful yet fashion-forward. Ali was beginning to think there was no fashion challenge this man could not conquer. "Again, thank you for the dress."

Jonathon, whose black slim suit was sporting a diamond-encrusted pocket kerchief hinting at his usually flamboyant style waved a hand back and forth. "You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Or my boy Sam."

"Alexandria," Her mother's voice cut through the tender moment. "You're holding up the line."

Trying to suppress a groan, Ali opted for introductions. "Mother, this is my friend Jonathon."

"The designer?" Lynn's tone lightened.

"Is this your mother?" interjected Jonathon. "I thought she was your sister."

Lynn beamed. Sam's hand moved up and down Ali's back as Jonathon continued to ply her mother with false praise, taking the heat off of Ali. She made a mental note to thank him for it later.

Evelyn Harrington appeared in front of Ali and held her arms out. Ali stepped into the waiting woman's embrace and a rush of warmth engulfed her. It was like wrapping oneself in a fleece blanket while drinking tea and eating homemade chocolate chip cookies in front of a roaring fire on a cold winter evening. Sam's mother squeezed her, rocking her back and forth slightly.

"Ali, how are you holding up? Is there anything we can do? Do you need to take a break?"

A lump rose in Ali's throat at the outpouring of love and concern from her future mother-in-law, preventing her from speaking. Evelyn was the type of mother Ali always dreamed her own mother might be like. The older woman welcomed Ali into the family from the first moment they met. More to the point, she was her friend. Ali wanted to stay cocooned in her arms for the rest of the day.

"Thank you, Evelyn, but I'm fine."

"Since your mother is right here, I'll forgive you this once. But you must start calling me mom someday soon." The words were meant for Ali alone. Ali swallowed, wondering if Evelyn had an idea of how honoured she was to be allowed the privilege of calling this amazing matriarch mom. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"What do you promise?" Sam's father had somehow replaced Evelyn in the hug, kissing Ali on the forehead.

"I was asking her to let us know how we can help."

Christopher let go of Ali and moved to stand beside his wife. "Yes, do let us know. Anything Ali and it's yours."

Can you bring my father back? flittered through Ali's mind. Instead, she nodded her thank you.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Lynn's voice made Ali jump. Sam stiffened beside her.

Snaking an arm around Sam to signal all was well, Ali tried to keep her voice light, "Yes mother. These are Sam's parents, Evelyn and Christopher Harrington."

Lynn smiled at the couple before her. "I'm so sorry we have to meet under such sad circumstances,"

"Our condolences on your loss," offered Evelyn warmly. "Mr. Stinson was loved by many it seems."

"Oh yes," beamed Lynn. "He was a prominent part of our little community. He will be missed."

"I'm sure." Piped up Sam's father, wrapping his own arm around his wife. "He raised an amazing daughter. He must've been very proud."

"Oh yes, Alexandria was the apple of her father's eye."

Sam squeezed Ali against him and she was grateful for the support. The picture of the perfect little family her mother was not painting didn't quite fit with Ali's memories. But here and now was not the appropriate place to have such a conversation. There would be plenty of time in the coming days.

As the Harrington's walked away, Ali left the comfort of Sam and resumed her position in the receiving line. Looking at the remaining folks Ali saw a plethora of people, all friends. All here for her.