Collected

Prologue: Declan

Prologue: Declan

Mother's corpse looked beautiful.

Her once glowing skin was now pale and lifeless. Her faded blonde locks were now in perfectly curled ringlets, her nails trimmed and neat with hands folding over her stomach, unmoving. The simplistic Victorian dress she used to wear when she was a young woman still fit her body perfectly, despite how she'd aged. I straightened the off-white lace above her collarbone, smoothing out a fold. I stared down at her, admiring how at peace she looked. My mother was breathtaking. Even as she lay there in her casket, silent and still. She looked like one of her dolls, just as she wanted; to be buried resembling one of her porcelain antiques.

Isabella Montgomery's antique doll collection gave her a reputation in the small town of Greensboro, GA where she grew up. She'd been collecting them since she was a little girl and eventually opened a tiny boutique in town where she would continue to grow her collection, as well as sell dolls she was able to refurbish and fix. Growing up, my sister Emma and I would help her around the shop, from dusting the shelves to straightening the dolls on display. I sparked more of an interest than Emma and eventually learned how to help my mother with more than just cleaning duties. Throughout my teenage years and into college, I would travel with my mother to different antique trading shows where she would not only sell collectibles but often come home with new showpieces.

I felt a tear escape down my cheek, lost in the memories of my mother smiling. I brushed it away quickly and kept walking so those behind me could pay their respects to her. I moved to one of the pews and sat down. The pleasant thoughts were slowly morphing into anxiety and I couldn't stop wondering what would happen to her collection.

Would my father donate them? Sell them? Throw them out? What would become of the shop? Would he sell it to someone who would keep it thriving, or would it be closed down?

I had always had a better relationship with my mother as opposed to my father. He never appreciated his wife's passion for antique dolls, nor would acknowledge the effort she put into her business. He simply called it her 'hobby' and thought nothing more of it. He was too busy with his company to pay attention to what my mother accomplished. I shared my mother's passion, even if my father disapproved.

Theodore Montgomery was a successful businessman, owning a large real estate portfolio and several vineyards around the globe. His passion had been for wine; from the history of different types of brewing to the way it's fermented, my father was well-versed in the winery industry. It was because of him that my mother was able to live out her dream of owning an antique doll shop, as he was the owner of the building where it was located. Because he traveled often, I was able to spend my days after school at my mother's shop without the hateful criticism that my father projected onto me whenever he saw my interest in the valuable antiques. He loathed the idea that his only son had a passion that wasn't considered "masculine". As far as he was concerned, I was a disappointment.

"Declan."

I pulled myself from my thoughts and turned. My father placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and looked towards the casket with a blank stare.

"Dad," I replied shortly.

"How are you, son?" he asked in his husky voice.

I nodded but didn't speak, keeping my eyes on my mother's casket a few feet away from us. I felt the tears threatening to spill over, but I knew not to show emotion in front of Theodore Montgomery.

He squeezed my shoulder. "I have something I need you to know, but you may not like it."

"Yes?" I prompted, blinking away the urge to cry.