It took me about ten minutes to stop shaking. It had never been so hard to tell Lena no. Sure, my soul would sizzle in the bowels of Hell for eternity, but on the other hand, I was going to live for at least another thousand years. I wouldn't have to worry about Hell for a long time.

And I believed her when she said she could help me. She wouldn't have shown up here if she couldn't help me. Even now, I was tempted to yell for her, call her back, make a deal. . .

Had she said funerals, as in plural?

The desk extension rang, and I nearly jumped out the window. What now? I snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Betsy? It's Mom."

"Hi, Mom. You're up late."

"Babyjon had a late nap," she said ruefully. "But I don't have anything scheduled for tomorrow, so we can sleep late."

"That's good."

"So. . . how are you?"

"Not so good," I admitted. "Things are kind of a mess." And I deeply, deeply covet Satan's footwear.

"I'm sorry," she said at once. "I can relate to what you're saying, hon, make no mistake. Do you believe the funeral announcement didn't come out until yesterday? I could have sworn I made the newspaper's deadline, but they said I missed it by twenty-four hours."

"What? You mean Dad and the Ant's funeral?"

"Isn't that stupid? My point is, I've been a bit of a scatterbrain since the accident. And I know I made things harder for you at exactly the wrong time. My only excuse is. . . I don't really know. It's not like I was still in love with your father. I guess I wasn't ready to say good-bye forever. Not so soon after you died, anyway."

"I didn't think about it that way," I said. "I guess I shouldn't have been such a jerk."

"Your father died, dear. You were entitled."

"Well, I wasn't there by myself. So how did Dad's coworkers know to be there?"

"Oh, I'd called your dad's secretary-Lorraine?- the day I heard about the accident. And I guess she called the others. And you know your stepmother wasn't averse to using Lorraine for her charity work. That's how her friends knew to come. And of course, I had called you myself."

"Yeah, I remember." Something was bumping my brain like a minnow nudging a weed. It was great that my mom had called, great that she had apologized, great that we were patching things up. Why, then, did I feel so weird? Sort of sick to my stomach and excited at the same time? I was filled with a kind of happy dread, if there was such a thing.

"I thought I'd bring the baby to see Jessica tomorrow," Mom was saying.

I barely heard her. Start at the beginning. The funeral was the beginning. There was no announcement. So the only people there, would have been people who knew. . . who knew. . .

"I'll visit during afternoon hours if you'd like to join us. . ."

"MARJORIE!" I shouted and heard the receiver crunch as I squeezed it too hard.