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Truth began hesitantly.
    Aunt Caroline smiled, the skin stretching tight over sharp bones. “I shall engage a professional nurse, of course. I have spoken to Mr. Branwell at the realty agency and he feels he can sell the house very quickly once—once it becomes available; the proceeds from that should more than settle the debts of my estate. What is left comes to you, of course, though I’m afraid there won’t be much.”
    Truth shook her head slowly, trying to dispel the brisk, clinical efficiency with which Aunt Caroline tidied away her life. “I don’t care about that,” she said.
    â€œNo. I don’t imagine you do,” Aunt Caroline said, studying her closely. “But since you are to be my executor—and that soon—perhaps we could go over a few things now.”

    Truth felt the numb sense of impending doom that one feels in nightmares as Aunt Caroline went over the will and the other arrangements with her. Caroline Jourdemayne would be buried in the Amsterdam Rural Cemetery next to her twin. The coffin had already been purchased and the arrangements for the memorial service made with the local funeral home. Everything was ready.
    All Caroline Jourdemayne had to do now was die.
    â€œâ€”but we could have handled all these matters by phone,” Aunt Caroline went on inexorably. “There’s something else.”
    For the first time Aunt Caroline’s iron will seemed to falter. “Please—if you’d get me a glass of water—my pills …”
    Truth fled to the kitchen for a glass of water, returning with it and the bottle of painkillers stickered all over with advisories: MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS—CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE—DO NOT OPERATE HEAVY MACHINERY WHILE TAKING THIS PRESCRIPTION. Seeing Aunt Caroline struggle with the cap, Truth opened it for her, and Aunt Caroline swallowed two of the pills. Truth frowned. She was certain the dosage was supposed to be one.
    It must be very bad already. And there was nothing she could do—no way to reach out to Caroline Jourdemayne. Truth felt a sudden panicky realization that there was no time left to forge close emotional ties to her aunt. Caroline would die and Truth would be left with the guilt of selfishness.
    â€œThere. I shall be better presently, so Dr. Vandemeyer has been at pains to assure me. Now. There is another matter that we must discuss. The real reason you’re here.”
    Truth waited, but Aunt Caroline said nothing more. Truth let her gaze drift toward the window to the stark, Andrew Wyeth–esque landscape beyond. The sky was a palette of gray on gray that seemed to cocoon the house like wet spongy flesh.

    â€œWe never did discuss … the past,” Aunt Caroline said at last. “It’s important for you to know that you’re not the only one.”
    The only one? Truth stared at her aunt, feeling a faint alarm tinged with uncomfortable pity. What Caroline Jourdemayne had said made no sense. “I guess—” Truth began.
    â€œI’m not quite senile yet—or drugged senseless,” Aunt Caroline snapped, as if she could read Truth’s mind. “But this is hard for me. For so many years I just tried to blot it all out—Thorne, and Katherine—but there are things you need to know about your family.”
    â€œMy family,” Truth echoed. But Aunt Caroline was her only family, and Truth found it hard to imagine anything she needed to know about Aunt Caroline.
    â€œYour parents. Your father and mother. Thorne Blackburn most of all. You never had the chance to know him, and now …”
    Blackburn again! Truth struggled to keep her face serene. “I don’t think there’s anything you really need to tell me about Thorne Blackburn, Aunt Caroline,” Truth said carefully.
    â€œHow quick you are to say that. Perhaps I should have—but there’s no time now for vain regrets. You did not know