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“Don’t be. She didn’t want you here for it. Didn’t want you to have to find her gone or hold her hand while she was hooked up to machines. This happened the way she wanted it to.”

“How did it happen?” Gigi asked.

Tammy gave her a sad smile. “She told me she was tired. Gonna take a late afternoon nap. We were gonna go to town for fish n’ chips and then play some bingo. I went in an hour later to get her up and she was just… she was sleeping. She just went to sleep and that was it. It was good. She was worried she’d suffer a lot, be a big burden to me. She told me she didn’t want to have you hurting while watching her deteriorate. I think she was ready. And I think it was peaceful for her. She got to just close her eyes and be done. I was gonna wait until the next day to call, knew you were starting your new job but couldn’t sleep, knew I had to tell you.”

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to tell her about my songs,” Gigi said, looking at me.

“What about your songs, sweetie?” Tammy asked.

“I write songs, and one or two of them might be on a record that’s being made by a band local to our area who’s kind of hitting the big time right now.”

“That’s amazing!” Tammy said, eyes lighting up. “Francie told me you’re always pluckin’ away at that guitar and singing along.”

“It drove her crazy.”

Tammy shrugged. “She was just bitter about everything. But she said you were good at it. Said, ‘thank the lord she don’t sound like a dyin’ cat at least’.”

Gigi busted up laughing. “From Aunt Francie, that was a major compliment.”

“You know it,” Tammy agreed and lifted the coffee pot and refilled our cups. “Said you should sing her favorites when you spread the ashes.”

“She never asked me to sing around her. Used to ask me to shut my piehole. Leave it to her to put in a request for after she’s gone.” Gigi rolled her eyes.

I chuckled.

“I’ll go get dessert.” Tammy hurried into the kitchen and returned with a big pie, plates and cutlery, along with a tub of ice cream.

“I can’t have pie, Aunt Tammy. I’m allergic to gluten, but thank you anyway.”

“Oh no, I remembered. I got a gluten-free pie crust and looked up how to do it without poisoning you. I promise, you can eat this.”

“Oh yippee!” Gigi clapped her hands.

I had the feeling it’d taste like dusty cardboard, like most of her gluten-free shit.

When I swallowed the first bite, I spoke up, “I expected to have to fake enthusiasm. Most of the time whenever she has me try her gluten-free food I say, you know what this needs?”

“Gluten,” Gigi finished for me.

“But it’s actually pretty good, Tammy,” I said and forked up another bite.

“She liked him,” Tammy said to G, gesturing to me.

“She didn’t,” I countered.

“Oh, but she did. She knew you’d take care of this one. Said it to me. Said she wished she’d had a man like you back in the day. A no bullshit, hottie. That’s what she called you.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

Tammy continued, “Well, first she was sure you were gonna break Gianna’s heart. She told me when she first met you and was worried about how this one looked at you like you could hang the moon.”

“He can,” Gigi whispered. “But don’t tell him. He’s got kind of a big ego.”

I laughed again, then touched my girl’s cheek with the back of my spoon, depositing a splotch of purple there.

“But then,” Tammy went on, “She admitted she’d been hard to get along with and I said ‘no, surely not you, Francie’. She actually laughed at that.”

The three of us laughed.

“This stays here forever, now,” Gigi said, examining her reflection on the back of a spoon.

“It suits you,” I replied and then took another bite.

“Seriously though,” Tammy went on, sobering, “she said you stood up for her and kept doin’ it until she felt safe enough to stand up for herself. That’s a good thing. She said she knew her niece would be all right after she was gone. And she was glad for it. Said she knew that your folks would be after you to get their hands on all the money she was leaving you and she knew your boyfriend, his mom, and the lady from the motorcycle club wouldn’t let you let them get their mitts on it.”

“Money?” Gigi whispered.

Tammy nodded. “She did up a will and left it all to you. Doesn’t want Grant gettin’ a dime of it. Told me to tell you.” She pointed to me. “And I quote, ‘make sure Grant don’t get his mitts on it.’”

Gigi looked shocked. “She’s left the money to me?”

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