At Clayton Ancestral Mansion
"I don't understand why we still have to visit Aunt Lydia's grave every year," Dina whispered irritably to her mother as they walked through the garden towards Lydia's grave. "We already do it on All Saint's Day. Why do we have to go on her birthday and even her death anniversary? Isn't that a bit too much?"
"Just be quiet! Your father might hear you," Sylvia hissed back. "You know how sensitive he is when it comes to that woman."
Walking just behind them, Melanie could hear every word of the whispered conversation. She glanced ahead at her brother, Tim, who was carrying Lydia's favorite flowers, lost in his own world.
Dina and Rain were both in the dark about the full story. All they knew was that they had an aunt who died young at twenty-two, twenty-three years ago. Lydia Clayton was her name.