“Abso-freaking-lutely. I’ll just take it out of your pay.”

This could work. I could pay her through my Buy From Home purchases, though that might not help her keep her lights on or continue to have running water. But she’d be happy, and wasn’t happiness the most important thing in life? I should write a poem about that.

“You do realize that to use any of this stuff, you have to actually go to the grocery store.”

Her words shoved me deeper into the pit of despair often referred to as buyer’s regret. “Isn’t that what Macho Taco express delivery is for?”

“You’ll have to buy food and spices and crap.”

“I hate going to the grocery store.”

“And you’ll have to learn to cook.”

“Fine,” I said, letting a defeated breath slip through my lips. I had a fantastic flair for the dramatics when needed. “Send back everything that involves any kind of food preparation. I hate to cook.”

“Do you want to keep the Jackie Kennedy commemorative bracelet?”

“Do I have to cook it?”

“Nope.”

“Then it stays.” I lifted my wrist and twirled the bracelet. “Look how sparkly it is.”

“And it goes so well with Margaret.”

“Totally.”

“Pumpkin butt,” Aunt Lil said.

I looked up from my Jackie Kennedy commemorative bracelet. Now that she knew she was dead, I would never have to go through that surge of panic at the prospect of her insisting on cooking for me for two weeks straight. I almost starved to death the last time. I held up the bracelet. “Do you think this bracelet is too much?”

“Jackie goes with anything, dear. But I wanted to talk to you about Cookie.”

I looked in Cookie’s direction and frowned in disappointment. “What has she done now?”

Aunt Lil sank down beside me and patted my arm. “I think she should know the truth.”

“About Jackie Kennedy?”

“About me.”

“Oh, right.”

“What in the world does this monstrous machine do?” Cookie asked from somewhere near the kitchen. A box appeared out of nowhere, hovering unsteadily over a mountain of other boxes.

I smiled in excitement. “You know how sometimes we order coffee and it comes with that incredible foam on top?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that machine does the magic foam trick.”

Her dark head popped up. “No.”

“Yes.”

She looked at the box lovingly. “Okay, we can keep this. I’ll just have to carve some time out of my schedule to read the instructions.”

“Don’t you think she should know?” Aunt Lil continued.

I nodded. She had a point. Or she would have if Cookie didn’t already know. “Cook, can you come here a sec?”

“Okay, but I’m working out a system. It’s in my head. If I lose it on the way over, I won’t be held accountable.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

She sauntered over, shaking another box at me, a disturbing kind of joy in her eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted a salad spinner?”

“People actually want those?”

“You don’t?”

“I think that was one of those four A.M. purchases where I’d lost all sense of reality. I don’t even know why anyone would want to spin a salad.”

“Well, I do.”

“Okay, so, I have some bad news.”

She sat in a chair that catty-cornered the sofa, a wary expression on her face. “You got bad news since you’ve been sitting here?”

“Kind of.” I tilted my head discreetly to my side, indicating a presence.

Cookie frowned.

I did it again.

She shrugged in confusion.

With a sigh, I said, “I have news about Aunt Lillian.”

“Oh. Oh!” She looked around and questioned me with a quirk of her brows.

I gave a quick shake of my head. Normally, Cookie would play along, pretending she could see Aunt Lil as well, but since Aunt Lil had finally caught on to the fact that she could walk through walls, I didn’t think that would be appropriate. I put a hand on hers and said, “Aunt Lil has passed away.”

Cookie frowned.

“She’s gone.”

She shrugged in confusion. Again.

“I knew she’d take it hard,” Aunt Lil said by my side. She sniffled into her sleeve again.

I wanted so badly to roll my eyes at Cookie. She was not getting my hints. I’d have to try harder. “But you know how I can see the departed?”

A dawning emerged on Cook’s face as she realized Aunt Lil had caught on at long last.

I patted her hand. Really hard. “She’s here with us now, just not as you will remember her.”

“You mean—?”

“Yes,” I said, interrupting before she could give anything away. “She has passed.”

Cookie finally grasped the entire concept. Not just a little corner of it. She threw a hand over her mouth. A weak squeak slipped through her fingers. “Not Aunt Lil.” She doubled over and let sobs rack her shoulders.

Subtle.

“I didn’t think she’d take it this hard,” Aunt Lil said.

“Neither did I.” I looked on in horror as Cookie acted out that scene from The Godfather. It was even more eerie from this close proximity. “It’s okay,” I said, patting her head. Really hard. She glared through her fingers. “Aunt Lil is with us incorporeally. She sends her love.”