The store in the memory reminds her a little of the stores her father would occasionally stop into when she was young, with her tagging along at his side. So she had already associated it with her own father by the time, the woman, her mother but not her mother, came into view.
Esme only had bare, vague, colorless memories of her mother. All she knew of her was that she had left them and that she didn't love her the way she had doubtless told her she did. But this woman loved her child (son? yes, son, doubtless when he spoke) enough to lie to him the way her father had never lied to her.
That thought is chilling, but not for long. By the time the memory has played out and she's had a chance to consider it, the coherency of thought it brought is fading anyway.
She does know, however, that she wonders how long ago that was, and where the boy is now. He might be the sort of person she could like.
Then everything shut off again, and she leaned against the table, trying to shut out visions and thoughts of Vlad's memory by closing her eyes. It didn't work.