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she dialed Zoe’s phone and then Emma’s. No one answered.
    â€œOh, God, please hurry!” Serena and Mackenzie reached for each other’s hands, holding on as the cab picked up speed and began to cut and swerve through traffic for what felt like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

    E mma:
    Darkness surrounds me. Fills me. Cushions me. I float in it. On it. Only pinpricks of sound. Muted. Mechanical.
Where am I?
    It’s all right, darling. You had a bit of a tussle with a delivery van
.
The
van won
.
    Gran’s voice. Calm. Steady. Like arms wrapped around me.
I’m fairly certain you were taught to look both ways before crossing the street.
    Am I dead?
There are no trumpets. No tunnel of whitelight. No hovering above my body.
Are you here to escort me to the “other side”?
    Don’t be so dramatic, dear.
Gran’s voice delivers the favorite joke.
It’s all right. I’m here. Just as I’ve always been.
    Zoe?
    I hear footsteps. A voice. “Ms. Michaels?”
    Panic wells up when I can’t respond.
    It’s all right, darling. Sleep. Gather your strength. Remember the show must always go on.
She launches into a campy version of Ethel Merman’s “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Another inside joke we’ve shared since I first found the original cast recording of
Annie Get Your Gun
at the cottage and practically wore a hole in the vinyl.
    The footsteps retreat. I float in the darkness and realize that if I’m talking to my grandmother, I must be dead.

Three

    T he cabdriver kept his foot hard on the accelerator and a concerned expression on his face the entire drive, which passed in a nauseating blur. But all signs of empathy evaporated after he handed Serena her receipt, hauled the luggage out of the trunk, and set the whole collection of it on the curb. “Sorry. Can’t leave cab. Hope everything okay.”
    Serena bit back a groan at the thought of dragging the hard-sided suitcases up the steps and through the hospital, but she’d spotted Zoe slumped on a bench near the entrance.
    â€œGive me your makeup case,” Mackenzie said as the driver made his escape. “The rest is up to you.” She turned and rushed toward Zoe as only someone who’d traveled lightly could. By the time Serena had dragged and bounced her luggage up to meet them, Mackenzie had Zoe wrapped in her arms and was holding her as she sobbed. Zoe had shot up another couple of inches since she’d seen her a year ago and even in distress she was beautiful—an elongated, finely boned version of her mother. Or more precisely almost a clone of Emma’s older sister Regan.
    â€œWhere’s your mother?” Serena asked. “Can you take us to her?”
    Zoe nodded and swiped at her tear-streaked face. “She’s on the eighth floor. She’s . . . unconscious. And she’s hooked up to all these machines.” She swallowed. “I could hardly understand what the doctor said. Except that her brain is all swollen.”
    There were more tears as Mackenzie stifled a gasp. Serena shivered slightly as the seriousness of the situation sank in.
    â€œThey called Rex and Eve even though I told them not to.” Her grandparents’ first names sounded odd on Zoe’s lips. “But someone at the ranch said they’re on a roundup out in one of the canyons and won’t be back in cell range for a couple days.” She sounded closer to five than fifteen. “Regan’s somewhere in eastern Europe on location and Nash . . .” She named Emma’s actor/director brother, who was known for disappearing while immersing himself for a role. “No one seems to know for sure where he is.” She sniffed and swiped again at her eyes. “I’m not old enough to make decisions.”
    â€œCome on.” Serena stuffed the garment bag under one armpit. Her hands clenched around the suitcase