“You and the White Rabbit have as much in common as I do with”—I searched for an analogy and came up so empty that, in a slight panic, I looked at our surroundings—“as I do with that clock.” I nodded up at the massive Victorian-style four-sided timepiece used by locals and visitors alike as a meeting spot. “Anxiety just isn’t your thing.”

“Lucky for you.” She levered herself off the wall and glared at me. “What was it I said the other day about this event?”

I grinned and quoted her. “Don’t make me go alone.”

“True then and true now.” She put her hand on the shop’s doorknob. “You do realize that there are friends of mine inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You will not sit in the corner, saying nothing. You will be social.”

“Yes, Aunt Frances.”

She started to open the door, then shut it again. “And you will not laugh at inappropriate times.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

She nodded. “You are my favorite niece.”

“I am your only niece.”

“Let us not split hairs.” She took a deep breath. “Now or never, yes? Yes,” she said, and opened the door.

A wash of female laughter flowed over us. My aunt took a deep breath. Then another. I reached out, put the flat of my hand against the small of her back, and gave her a firm push.

“Get in there,” I commanded. “You know you’ll have fun once we get started.”

“Yes, but what if . . .” She took one step and stopped.

I gave the back of her head a good talking to. “Remember what you told me? That you’re getting closer and closer to retirement, and that you need to develop some new interests and hobbies, and maybe find more friends. That you’ve been woodworking most of your life and maybe it’s time to try another medium.” I gave her another push.

“Yeeees,” she said, managing to make a complete sentence out of a one-syllable word. “But . . .”

“But nothing. You’re the one who found that new blog The Chilson Diversion. You’re the one who saw the notice about this event and saw who was hosting. You’re the one who said, ‘Don’t make me go alone.’ In spite of the stupidity of your anxiety, because these are your friends and the last thing you need is my support, I agreed to come with you and you will not back out. You. Will. Not.” I gave my aunt one last shove, which propelled her the rest of the way into the wine store.