They Held My Funeral While I Was Still Breathing. Then My Seven-Year-Old Nephew Looked Into the Coffin and Said, “Mommy, Aunt Madelyn Is Looking at Me”
She could weep across that metal table all she liked about how she never thought I’d fail to wake.
The necklace had told the truth her tears were trying to bury: that whatever she’d told herself about the plan, some part of my sister had been ready — comfortable, even — to inherit my grandmother’s gold while my body was still warm in the box.
You can lie with your words for a very long time.
It is much harder to lie with your hands, and her hands had reached for my necklace before she knew for sure I was gone.
Chapter 13 — The Keys to the Kitchen
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