And besides, now it’s time to let a little bit of me go.
Throw my ashes, Lottie. Into the ocean—from the cliff we used to go to together. Have a picnic, have some fun, try not to let it be so heavy. (I’ve written some foods down on the back; living vicariously through this image while I can’t stomach anything much stronger than bread.)
I hope I was an okay aunt. I hope you knew that from the very first time I held your little baby body in my arms, I was hooked.
A whole lifetime of loving you feels like more than a fair exchange for immortality. Don’t you think?
—H.
I put the letter down on my desk.
My aunt could be a million things.
A little selfish.
A little bossy.
A little presumptuous.
But she was also right; it was about time I started figuring things out for myself.
I went back downstairs to the living room. Sam was winning by a mile in what Amy kept referring to as beginner’s luck.
I imagined this night stretching on for all infinity, lasting forever.
I imagined that somewhere, in another universe, it did.
Next to me, Sam bought his fourth railroad.
On the TV, Alvin and Margo sat in the dusty foyer of the house in the middle of the woods and wondered if they would ever see their parents again.
Don’t worry, you two. I’ve read the last book. You do.
Acknowledgments
To everyone who has supported me on this journey of writing my third book, to everyone who has emailed me or tweeted me or snail mailed me or texted me or called me or smoke signaled me to lend their encouragement and remind me that I had done this before and could, conceivably, do it again: thank you. Writing a book is ninety-nine percent lonely; thank you for being there for me when I poked my head out of my cave to take a peek around and see what I was missing.
Here are some of you:
My two unreal cool nieces, Harper and Alma, who made me an aunt and who made me want to write a book about an aunt. I hope I’m the best aunt ever—let’s check in on this in a few years and you can let me know how I’m doing.
The rest of my lovely family, including my brothers and sisters-in-law and my parents, all of whom have never stopped supporting the visions I’ve had (visions both literally and figuratively, as it were).
My agent, Wendy Schmalz, who is also unreal cool, and to whom I owe a lot. Thank you for being my rock for this and every book I’ve written so far.
The lovely team at HarperCollins who continue to be some of the greatest people I’ve had the privilege of knowing. You’ve made this journey so easy and fun (especially you, Jocelyn, my editor-to-the-stars, who sees things I don’t and graciously points them out to me).
As always, S: I do not know how you always have the exact right words, but I hope you never run out of them.