Romantic Friday Writers: Confused

The latest RFW topic. (Sorry i've been absent - have had many readings and an assignment for my diploma!)
From my Princess story, in chapter 1. Enjoy!

“Mum? What’s wrong?” Quickly she sat on the bed beside her, pulling her into a hug as her mother had always done for her. Tori was so worried when she saw her mother’s face sad and twinkling in the afternoon sunshine from shed tears. She’d never seen her mum cry, she was so private with emotions like that.

            Elizabeth laughed self-consciously, wiping her elegant hands across her daughter’s cheeks. “Oh, nothing. Just being sentimental.”

            Tori followed her mum’s gesture to the small box beside them on the bed. She hadn’t seen it as she’d rushed to give comfort.

            Vaguely she recognised it. Tracing her fingers over the rose pictures torn from magazines and pasted onto the box, she realised it was the box she’d once found while playing hide and seek when about seven or eight. Looking at it caused a faint buzzing in her mind, as well as the flash of photos.

            “This has old photos in it, right?” Mum wasn’t paying attention.

            “Your feet were so tiny, we’d had to have these made several times before they fit.”

            Her mum picked up the yellow booties and cradled them gently in her hands, but Tori was pulled towards the box, the buzzing growing louder, the lid half covering the contents. She wanted to see the inside. Needed to.

            The photo she’d remembered was near the top, the people in it sitting stiffly on a large couch with thin legs and covered in a flower patterned upholstery. Tori automatically straightened her hunched shoulders to copy the pose of the woman, central on the seat. There was a hint of a smile on the woman’s lips, despite the stiffness of her pose, and Tori knew this lady was kind, softly spoken. It wasn’t mum though. Mum’s hair was mahogany. The lady’s hair was clearly blonde. Tori had a flash of sudden clarity that threw the picture into complete colour rather than the antique orange tinge. The lady’s hair was so pale it was nearly silver, and her vision knew it glinted brilliantly in the morning sun.

            “Who is this?”

Word count: 348!
Code for critique: MPA (Minor Points acceptable)