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say something more sympathetic, she managed to murmur, “You poor thing.” Then it hit her: this was Great-aunt Edyth, who had loved her and bullied her and admired her—but would no more. She choked on a sob. As a nurse, she’d dealt with death, but never the death of a loved one. What should she do? From the chill of the body, it seemed clear that this must have happened early last night. Her sympathetic heart wanted to close her great-aunt’s staring eyes, but something else kept her from it. Something that wasn’t quite right. No, that was silly. She gave herself a rough shake. It was because she had begun to believe that Aunt Edyth would never die, that she would always be there, expressing a sharp opinion, telling uproarious stories, loving her dogs, ordering people about. That, and only that, was what was wrong.
    Aunt Edyth, ever contrary, would have to pick a time when her housekeeper was out of town, leaving her body to be found by Jan. And yet it was nice to have had it happen quietly in bed—the bed covers were not disturbed, meaning there had been no struggle. She probably was gone before she got beyond that first look of surprise.
    Jan rubbed her forehead to stop her rambling thoughts and went to the phone on the little bedside table to call 911. This wasn’t an emergency, obviously, but she knew the rules. When someone is found dead at home, government officials have to be notified. Never mind that Jan Henderson, RN, knew a dead body when she saw it. Aunt Edyth wasn’t really dead until the county’s medical examiner declared it so. The operator said she’d send the police—no matter what the emergency, the first responder arrived in a squad car. Then Jan went downstairs to let Lizzie in and give her breakfast while they waited.
    She was sitting with the dog on the front porch steps when the squad car pulled through the twin brick pillars that marked the entrance to the house’s curving drive. No siren or lights, which was fine. And all the nice young police officer did was call the medical examiner’s office, which is what Jan expected to happen. Funny, though, how the bureaucrats couldn’t take even a policeman’s word for it that Edyth Hanraty was dead but had to come for a look their own selves.
    While they waited, Jan made the policeman a cup of tea, made one for herself, then sat down by the kitchen phone. She called her mother first. “Mother, bad news. I’m at Aunt Edyth’s house—I said I’d take her to church this morning, you know—and she’s…she’s dead.”
    â€œOh, my dear, how awful! What happened? Did she fall?”
    â€œNo, she died quietly in her sleep.”
    â€œWell, that’s a blessing. The poor old thing, I suppose we should have been prepared for this, but it’s still a shock.”
    â€œYes, it is. The police are here, and they’ve asked someone from the ME’s office to come by, and I have to stay until that’s finished. Could you call Jason and Uncle Stewart? I’ll contact Reese at the university, and I’ll tell Ronnie when I get home. Meanwhile, there’s a list she had all drawn up of people to notify. I’ll call her doctor and that Excelsior mortician she decided on, Huber’s, to let them know they have a customer to take care of. She had a prepaid arrangement with them. It says on the list to remind them of that—wasn’t she something? And her attorney, and Pastor Garson.”
    â€œGive me those last two numbers. I’ll call them for you.”
    â€œAll right. There are some other names here, too. Friends, I guess. I’ll call them. Bless her for that list. This will make things a lot easier.”
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    S USAN was sitting in her kitchen, lingering over her lunchtime cup of tea and considering mortality. Aunt Edyth had been an old woman when Susan was a child and had seemed to live in a kind of time warp, never