My Father Died as She Toasted Her First Love

When Nancy Miller's call came through, I was standing at the entrance of the funeral home.

The staff was asking me if I wanted to edit the memorial portrait.

Right then, my phone vibrated. Nancy's name flashed across the screen, but I didn't pick up.

Soon, her texts arrived.

"Hugo Snow, what was that comment supposed to mean?

"What did you see?

"Didn't I tell you I can't leave because of the project lockdown?

"Can you stop being sarcastic in front of my friends?"

I stared at the last message for a long time.

So it wasn't that she didn't see my calls at all. She just didn't find them important enough to answer.

Yet, she had time to scroll through comments and to worry about what her friends thought.

When the third call came through, I answered it.

Nancy's voice was low, laced with impatience.

"Hugo, where are you?"

I glanced back at the brightly lit farewell hall behind me. "I'm at the funeral home."

She fell silent for a moment, but quickly replied, "I know you're upset about your dad, but can you not take it out on someone else?"

I let out a short, dry laugh. "Someone else?"

Her voice grew visibly impatient. "It's Sean Doyle's birthday today. He just got back to the country, so we're having a little gathering."

"Project lockdown, huh? Lockdown by a riverside restaurant?"

Silence ensued at the other end of the line.

"I called you 67 times," I said flatly. "You never answered."

She lowered her voice as she replied, "My phone... was on silent."

There was a guilty pause in her words.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then I heard the muffled sound of clothes shifting on her end.

And then came Sean's laugh—that condescending, mocking chuckle.

He took the phone from Nancy.

"So you're Hugo. Let me introduce myself. My name is Sean Doyle. I'm Nancy's senior in college. If you're a real man, learn to be gracious. Nancy's here with me tonight, talking a deal worth hundreds of millions of dollars. What's the point of your frantic calls? And from now on, quit pulling that low-class crap to mess with her. Got it?"

From the other end of the line, I caught Nancy's teasing reply. "Sean, stop teasing him."

Turning to look at Dad's portrait in the funeral hall, I suddenly found the situation pretty ironic.

"Nancy, my dad passed this morning. And you know what his last words were? He asked me when you were coming to see him."

Then the line went completely silent.

I went on, "You don't have to come. Don't bother showing up, ever."

Nancy finally panicked. "Hugo, what's that supposed to mean?"

I said nothing because my eyes had landed on a fresh post from her alternate account.

There was a picture of Sean slipping his jacket over her, and the caption read, "One day, some people will figure out that the ones who stick around are the ones who really matter."

Someone commented, "Don't tell me your boyfriend's upset."

Nancy replied, "He's too busy for this now."

I stared at her reply, my smile fading away.

The staff was asking again, "Mr. Snow, is the portrait okay?"

I nodded. "It is."

After ending the call, I changed her contact name from "Darling" to just "Nancy Miller".