Page 94 of Deja Who

EPILOGUE

NELLIE NAZIR

1985–2017

The World Remembers Her

Always

Archer took a long look. “Wow. It’s beautiful.” And it was. The headstone was purple marble and when the sun hit it, it kicked up a glitter effect that made the stone seemed to glow. Even on a cloudy day, the effect was striking. The letters and numbers were deeply, crisply chiseled and unlikely to rub off for at least a couple of centuries. There were trees nearby, and the grave was nearest the pond full of koi, which Nellie had always thought were the epitome of class, though she went to her grave having no clue how to tend to them.

“It’s a lie, of course,” Leah said, smiling at him. She had dressed in a sober black business suit, black stockings, and blackhigh heels, attire she loathed and would never wear in the course of an ordinary day. Which this was not.

Archer knew she was trying to show respect to It—um, to Nellie—the only way she could, and made a mental note not to tell her how sexy she looked in mourning. God, the high heels alone...! “It’s really beautiful.” This in an attempt to keep his Leah-obsessed mind out of the gutter for five entire minutes.

“It’s a lie,” she said again. “I’ve paid for a lie, and that’s not the only one. My mother did not die at thirty.”

He smothered a laugh against his fist. “Ah... no. Probably not.”

Leah shrugged. “But she deserves the lies. In a way, they’re perfect for her, entirely suited to her personality. If my mother was here, she could believe those lies; she would make herself believe them. So it’s okay. Besides.” Leah took a deep breath and smiled at him, though her eyes were bright with tears she refused to let fall. “I’llrememberher.”