“Yes.” Aunt Tammy turned to me. “Aria, we should change your plane ticket to fly back next Sunday so you can be here for the memorial but still get back in time for freshman orientation. You can come back for the public memorial if you want, and we’ll scatter her ashes after that.”

I suddenly remembered Tony Merritt. “We have to tell Tony.”

“Who’s Tony?” Aunt Tammy asked.

“He’s her friend. He lives in Woodacre. I got the impression he—they were special friends.”

“I thought he was just a contractor,” Dad said.

“She didn’t always tell us everything,” Tammy said.

“He’s not in the instructions,” Dad said.

“I’ll tell him,” I said. I didn’t want Tony to show up with Goldie to take the dogs on a hike and find out that way.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Aunt Tammy said.

“I can tell him,” Dad said. “Do you have his number?”

“Neither of you knows him,” I said. “And I don’t know his number. I only know where he lives.” The house seemed to press in on the three of us—it felt too small—and I was overwhelmed by the need to get out. “Can I borrow the car?” I asked, standing up.

“Doesn’t he live in Woodacre? Do you need to drive?” Dad asked.

“I need to get that film developed,” I said. “Where’s her camera?”

“In the suitcase,” Aunt Tammy said.

Dad looked unhappy. “Be careful,” he said.

—

Goldie started barking as I unlatched the gate to Tony’s yard. He opened the front door before I got there, and Goldie ran out to greet me, her tail whipping back and forth.

“Aria,” Tony said. “This is unexpected.”

“Hi,” I said, bending down to pet Goldie’s back. By the time I straightened up, the expression on Tony’s face had turned serious.

“What happened? Is it your grandma? She hasn’t answered my calls for a couple of days.”

Haltingly, I told him. He looked away, and then down at the ground. Goldie went up to him and nudged her nose against his knee. He crossed his arms. I was afraid he would cry like my dad, and I didn’t know what I’d do if he did.

But he didn’t cry. We stood there in silence for what felt like several minutes. He finally raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were dry, but his face was grave, all the lines around his eyes and mouth drawn down.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “Are you alone up there?”

“No, my dad and my aunt are here.”

He nodded. “I’ll come and pay my respects later. I’m so sorry.”

And then he turned around and went back inside. Goldie gave me a glance that could only be described as anxious, and followed him into the house.

—