“Right. Don’t stop, delay.” She settled on the edge of the bed and decided it might be safer not to stroke the cat. Auntie Ruby had been old for as long as Charlie could remember—old and crazy and good for embarrassing stories about other members of the family if caught on her own. She’d cackled and not cared who heard her and, if she got her hands on a broom, she was all about reliving her glory days. It was hard to see the woman in the bed as the Auntie Ruby of memory. She’d faded until . . . “Holy crap, your fingers are cold!” The contrast between her wrist and the single finger pressed against it nearly burned.

“Hum . . .”

“I’m humming? Sorry. I do that when I think. The whole don’t stop thing made me think of Fleetwood Mac and don’t stop thinking about tomorrow and yesterday’s gone and . . .”

Auntie Ruby found strength enough to raise the remains of both eyebrows up a centimeter.

“. . . and yesterday isn’t gone, is it? Not yet. It’s all right here.” Charlie laid her hand gently on Auntie Ruby’s arm, drew in a breath of air so acidic it caught in the back of her throat, and Sang. Remember the time you painted Surrender Dorothy on the water tower? Remember how Auntie Jane always makes the tea too strong? Remember moving with Uncle Edward in ritual? Remember sisters and nieces and cousins. Remember the sweet/tart taste of cherry pie. Remember. Remember. Remember. This isn’t who you were, this is who you are.

*   *   *

Auntie Jane was waiting outside the door.

“It wasn’t my idea. Auntie Ruby asked me to delay her death.” Given Auntie Jane’s expression, it seemed smart to get the melody down fast. “All I did was redefine her life.”

“All you did? All?”

Objectively, given that in under twenty-two months an enormous asteroid was going to slam the planet to ratshit, Auntie Jane shouldn’t have been all that scary. Realistically, Charlie’d never heard of anyone able to be objective about the aunties.

“Yesterday,” Auntie Jane continued, “she asked me to remind Raymond to stop at the cheese factory, and yet I didn’t hold a séance to pass that on. She’s dying, Charlotte. Her mind spends more time on the other side than it does here and she doesn’t know what she’s asking.”

Charlie considered the need she’d seen in Auntie Ruby’s eyes. “This time, I think she did.”

“You think? You sing!”