The doctor, the receptionist at the photography studio, and the owner of the hot cross buns stall… They’d all given me a sliver of comfort.
As I pondered this, the rest of the Jensen family arrived. Gary had already composed himself and gone back to being cold and aloof when he heard them.
Phoebe clapped a hand over her mouth, looking shocked. Then, tears filled her eyes. “Holly… How did this happen?”
The shakiness in her choked–up voice made my brothers‘ hearts ache for her. Carl pulled her into his arms and said, “Don’t cry, Pheebs. Everyone has their own destiny.”
What bullshit! I didn’t believe in that rubbish, yet my fate had played such a húge prank on me. It had turned me into such a harbinger of misfortune.
I saw the slight smile on Carl’s face. He seemed to be pleased that I was dead.
He and the rest of them surrounded my body. Silence descended upon them as they looked at my photo and urn. Gary said grimly, “Holly called me this afternoon and told me she was going to die. She wanted us to have one last meal with her.”
He looked at Eugene. “Did she tell any of you that?”
Eugene looked diffident. Everything he’d told me that morning were lies–there wasn’t any auction, nor did they have to go anywhere with Gary. It was only from their conversation that I learned they’d all been out together to celebrate Phoebe’s cat’s birthday.
It turned out I couldn’t even compare to a cat. I rubbed my chest, feeling bitter. It was weird. Why was I still feeling these things when I was dead?
