Aunt Millie waved me off. “No one’s going to bother a couple of old women.”

“Dropping ashes from a Hello Kitty container?!”

“Oh, we got that covered,” Aunt Sue assured me.

I hated to even ask. “Covered?”

She nodded. “We’re going to transfer her into one of those souvenir soda bottles as soon as we get in the park. No one will bother us carrying around a soda pop. Then we’ll just kinda tip the cup over a little and, voila, she’s in her favorite place.”

I felt faint.

“Where exactly are you going to do this?”

“On It’s a Small World,” Aunt Sue replied. “Hattie loved that ride. Hattie was the first Mickey Mouse, you know.”

Yes. I knew.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said for the third time in as many minutes.

But I got two pairs of bony arms crossed over two pairs of saggy boobs and two matching glares. “This is what Hattie wanted,” Aunt Sue told me. “She was taken from this world too soon. The least we can do is honor her last wish. You’d honor my last wish, wouldn’t you?”

I bit my lip. “Yes?” Only it came out more of a question.

“Then it’s settled. We leave at eight.”

I opened mouth to protest…but realized it was futile. With or without me, these two were going to deposit Hattie Carmichael on It’s a Small World tomorrow. Unless I wanted to spend the afternoon bailing them out of jail, I’d better make sure they did it stealth-like.

“Oh, this is going to be so fun!” Aunt Sue said, clapping her hands. “I love Disneyland. You know, Hattie Carmichael was the very first Mickey Mouse.”

Lord help me.

The next morning I awoke to the sight of fuzzy Elvis staring down at me. Again. What I wouldn’t have given to be back in my own room.

I stumbled out of bed, rubbing my eyes, making my way on autopilot through the house toward the scent of coffee. Cal was already at the kitchen table, sipping his cup, reading the paper. Aunt Sue was frying bacon. Or, more accurately, burning bacon.

I wrinkled my nose. “I think it’s done.”

“What?” she asked, over the sizzling sounds.

“I think the bacon’s done!”

“What did you say?”

“It’s burnt!” I yelled.

Aunt Sue looked down at the blacked strips in her pan. “Oh. So it is. Oh well, I guess we’ll just have eggs,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as she reached into the refrigerator.

Just in case, I popped a couple pieces of sourdough into the toaster.

“By the way,” Aunt Sue said, cracking eggs into a bowl, “your cell’s been going off all morning.” She gestured to my purse sitting on the counter.