To my surprise, Aunt Rachel did open the store the next day. “Can’t stay closed forever…and it’s the weekend,” she told me.
Or maybe she was just trying to take her mind off the reality of my moving out in a few days. When I’d gotten up that morning, I started packing some of my less essential items — summer clothes and flip-flops, books I knew I wouldn’t be reading any time soon — but I hated doing even that much. It felt so…final.
She’d declined going to the Day of the Dead festivities but didn’t forbid my going. That is, she really didn’t have the option of telling me what to do anymore, and instead said, “Well, you’ll need to discuss that with the elders.”
None of them had been exactly thrilled at the prospect. Margot Emory had frowned and shared what sounded like a heated convo wit
