Chapter 1

Sandy

‘ Why folks always start these letters with ‘if you’re reading this, then I’m dead’. Everyone knows I’m dead! Ain’t no one shocked. I’m thinking it’s for drama. You know people always got to be doing too much for no damn reason. And I guess it is a pretty hard letter to start. Ain’t no easy way to get into your death letter, is there? ’

Sandy smiled as she read over the familiar words. The paper was worn from how many times she’d unfolded it. There were some uneven creases from where she clutched it to her chest the first time she struggled through her grandmother’s final while sobbing. It was just like that old biddy to start her final letter with something so silly and sassy.

Sandy ran her fingers over the looping letters. They were shaky from fatigue, but even on her deathbed, weak and sick, her grandmother’s handwriting still hinted at the elegant, sloping, smooth lines that Sandy used to joke was Ye Olde font. Her grandmother would then pretend to not know what fonts were to make her laugh.

But it was all a farse. Playing up the old lady stereotype was Lexi Tollman’s favorite hobby, especially around other people. But she loved messing around on her computer. Though she chicken pecked the keyboard and squinted at letters that were already huge and grumbled about things constantly changing, she loved exploring new technology and trolling around online, giggling like a ninety-year-old maniac.

Her grandmother was a weird bird – her own words. But she had never let an opportunity for joy escape her.

“And there’s a lot of it possible in that fancy picture box,” she’d laughed, patting the top of her screen, rings clicking against the plastic of the old fashioned monitor.

‘ I know you’re crying right now, Sandy girl. Don’t you dare. You hear me? I’m old. I lived a damn good life. Every day with you brought me a lifetime worth of happiness. I see you worrying yourself sick over me. You’re downstairs right now, talking to my docs. Trying to do something. And I love you for it. I love that you’re so determined to save me. I just know you’re kicking yourself right now because you failed. But you stop that, hear me? I lived longer than average and better than most. If I’m going, I’m going out peaceful and happy with the memories of us to keep me company. So, you just go ahead and let me rest and don’t even think about wasting grief on me. ’

It was an impossible request. Sandy’s throat was tight again, eyes swimming with tears, even after reading this letter for the hundredth time. The last few nights, she’d fallen asleep with it on her pillow, staring at the words and seeing her grandmother’s lined, smiling face.

Taking a breath, trying to obey her command and not cry, Sandy let her head fall back and rest against the stone wall at her back.

The waiting room had four other people in it. This place was by appointment only, and they were booked months in advance, but they were so fast, it was only a matter of minutes once you were pulled back. Sandy hadn’t been waiting long. And even as she watched, the person ahead of her in line was called.

She hadn’t made the appointment.

Her grandmother had.

Because she was a sassy, weird, old bird.

‘ If anything, you should be mad at me, Sandy, my girl. I love you with all my heart, but I can’t help but feel that I stole something from you. ’

That was the biggest load Sandy ever heard, and if she ever saw her grandmother in the next life, she’d make sure to tell her. She certainly wasted no time in saying it to her urn when she read that line in the letter.

She couldn’t say she made it that far the first time she read the letter, as it took multiple attempts to get all the way through. The first few times she tried, her vision would blur, and she’d succumb to the tears before she could finish, and she’d need to try again later.

She could practically hear her grandmother chastising her for it.

I just told you not to cry for me, she’d say, shaking her head and clicking her tongue even as she embraced her. You’re just a hopeless little rebel child, ain’t ya?

No, she definitely wasn’t, but it was another joke between them. Her grandmother was a homebody by choice, and she’d raised Sandy that way because that was just how she lived. Instead of yearning for an escape from their country home and simple lifestyle of quilting and knitting and canning, Sandy had flourished. She loved doing those things. She loved being with her grandmother.

She was a boring, obedient, quiet girl. She always had been. Her grandmother teased her about it, but Sandy didn’t want to change. Her favorite memories were sitting in front of the old style, big screen TV in their living room, sitting on their reclining love seat, working on whatever knitting or sewing project they had at the time. Sometimes separately, sometimes together, always yapping at the TV like the people on the other side could hear.

They loved watching murder mysteries and true crime TV. Especially if they didn’t know who did it. Figuring out the bad guy was a fun game they played together. But they also watched plenty of daytime TV, playing along with the games like they were there. However, it was soap operas that really had their hearts. Figuring out the mysteries and drama of their favorite show, putting together the pieces of it, trying to figure out what they’d do in their situation, was something they passed many an hour doing. And she loved every second of it.

Sometimes, her grandmother would mention Sandy getting out. Doing something more exciting. Maybe go skydiving or go out dancing at a club or, heck, stay out past ten o’clock! And while those things certainly were appealing, nothing was more fun than time spent with her grandmother, relaxing at home, knitting away.

Though her grandmother rarely mentioned her, Sandy knew about her mother. How she had rebelled against grandma’s simple life. How she’d run away at sixteen – literally running out in the middle of the night, hopping in the bed of her then-boyfriend’s pickup truck, and speeding away into the darkness, never to be seen again.

Literally never. Grandmother didn’t know, even on her deathbed, if her daughter lived or died. As far as she knew, the only time Gretchen Tollman ever returned was the day she put Sandy, asleep in a cheap car seat, on the front porch in the early morning, then ran off before being seen.

Grandmother only knew Sandy was there because she always drank her morning coffee on the front porch. She’d opened the door and nearly tripped over her only known grandchild. She said it was the most terrifying moment of her life, because Sandy had been so quiet and still, she’d been afraid that someone had left a baby there overnight and she’d passed away from the cold.

No. Sandy was just quiet and even tempered, even as a baby. A brief letter beside her in the seat explained her origins and her name, but that was it.

They never heard from Gretchen Tollman again, grandmother suddenly had to once more play the role of mother, and Sandy was, no doubt, in a better place for it.

Sandy couldn’t imagine why her mother hadn’t loved living with her grandmother. The house was old, but well-kept and charming. Her grandmother wasn’t overly strict or harsh. She was free with her love, her cookies, and her knowledge. She taught Sandy how to sew, crochet, embroider, and cook. They could, and often did, spend hours making blankets or clothes. They donated much of what they made because they certainly couldn’t use all of it, but the fun wasn’t in what was made. It was watching daytime TV, shouting answers at gameshows, gasping at DNA test results, eating fresh pie with homemade whipped cream, and cursing at the yarn or the fabric for sabotaging them.

All things Sandy would never get to experience again.

Because Lexi Tollman was gone, and Sandy was alone.

She surreptitiously wiped her eyes. She didn’t want anyone in the waiting room, or the nice lady behind the desk, to think something was wrong.

Though something was. The most important person in her life was gone. She was a pile of ash in Sandy’s suitcase, and everything was about to change.

Because Lexi Tollman was a sassy, weird, old bird, and she somehow passed with this idea in her head that Sandy had missed out on something.

‘ You never got a chance to be young. And that’s my fault. I should have taken you out more often. I should have encouraged you to go live your life. You were born into an incredible world, and I kept you trapped in the small corner of it I claimed for myself. I was too selfish to want to let you go. I love having you with me. I love spending time with you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Sandy, my girl. I wish I could tell you now to just let me go. To leave me to my death and be free. But I’m just too damn selfish. I want one more day with you. I tell myself every night that I’ll set you free in the morning, but when I wake up and see you smiling at me, I insist that I can have one more day. Just one more. ’

Funny. That’s exactly what Sandy thought every night when she went to bed. When she was praying and pleading with whatever force controlled this world that she could have one more day with her grandmother. That she’d be satisfied with just one more.

But now there were no more, and she certainly wasn’t satisfied.

“Alexandra Tollman?”

Sandy’s head dropped down to see the lady who worked in the back peeking around the door. She was smiling at everyone, seeing who reacted to the name.

“That’s me,” Sandy said, grabbing her purse and getting to her feet, quickly pushing the letter back into her bag as she fixed a smile on her face.

The woman, a middle-aged brunette with kind eyes, waved her back. “Right this way, honey. It won’t be long.”

Sandy knew that. She’d seen people coming and going ahead of her. They ran a pretty tight ship here, and being late by five minutes could mean you missed your appointment entirely. Since they lasted only five to ten minutes, it wasn’t surprising. And the day was fully booked, always, so if you missed it, you’d need to wait months for a new one.

The short hall led to a room at the back that was behind a heavy door with a keypad that, according to the beeps, had a nine-digit code to get in. It was highly protected. For good reason. The huge, metal, coffin-like pod inside was an exception to an intergalactic treaty.

Earth wasn’t allowed to have advanced alien technology.

Except for this. This place, this pod, was the only exception. Sandy heard rumors that other locations would open since this place was so busy and successful, but for now, it was one of a kind.

And Sandy still couldn’t believe she was here.

‘ I did something. You’re not going to like it, but it’s for your own good. I may have held you back in life, but I’m not holding you back in death. I won’t rest easy if I know you’re all alone in this big, empty house, pining for an old biddy. You’re young, Sandy! You need a chance to go out and live. A real one. A chance you’re certainly not going to get here. ’

“Can you just confirm your name and date of birth for me,” the woman said, going to a computer that was built into the wall.

Sandy did so, looking the huge device up and down.

The coffin was silver and rounded. It hummed softly. Technology she had no hope of understanding standing by, waiting for its next customer. She’d been warned that the process would be unpleasant, but it was at least quick.

She was getting her soul scanned.

‘ First, I’m selling the house. And I can already hear you now. ‘Gramma, no! That’s our house!’ No. It’s my house, and I’m not letting you turn it into some creepy mausoleum to me. I’m not letting you live in the second bedroom for life because you don’t want to disturb mine. Or, worse, you don’t change anything here and let yourself become part of the museum of our life. Nope. No. I love you too much to let you do that, and I know you would. So, the house is being sold. You can keep a few things if you want, but the furniture is going too. It’s already done, and the lawyer won’t let you reverse the decision. You have three months in that house from the time of my death, but then you’re out. And I won’t hear no guff about it, so don’t you start nagging at my ashes, because I’m not listening! ’

“Have you fasted?” The technician asked Sandy.

She nodded. “Yeah. Is it necessary for the scan to work?”

“No. We just find that people sometimes puke afterwards, especially if they’ve just eaten, so we established the fasting rule for all of our sakes.” The woman sent her a grin as she pressed a button on her computer.

Something hissed, and the pod opened.

The top split in half, the lid separating and dropping beneath the bed. The plain, white cushion was sanitized after every visitor. It had a pillow made of the same, fake white leather, and it was big enough that someone who was eight feet tall could easily lay inside. All told, with the lid out of sight, it didn’t look all that different from a hospital bed.

It had no right being intimidating, but it was.

“Go ahead and lay down,” the tech said, pushing a stool over to make it easier for her to climb up. “You just lay back. When you’re ready, I’ll close the lid. If you’re uncomfortable with enclosed spaces, I’d recommend closing your eyes. It will be over quick, but when I activate the scanner, it’s going to be very uncomfortable. People describe different sensations. Some say it’s cold, others say it’s like being tazed. It can be like you’re covered in ants, plunged into water, like there’s pressure on your chest. No one says they like it, but no matter what, you’re going to be okay. It can’t hurt actually you.”

“Right,” Sandy said, trying to smile again as she set her purse, and her grandmother’s letter, aside, so she could climb up.

She brought the letter for emotional support, but she didn’t really need it. She had read it so many times, she could recite it from memory. And she didn’t even need it to hear her grandmother speaking to her.

The lady said to get on the table. Get on. Stop lollygagging, grandma said in her mind, urging her to sit on the side and swing her legs up.

Sandy laid back, flattening her blouse as she licked her lips nervously.

‘ The money from the house sale is all yours. I’m not leaving you with much, but that money can find you a new place to live. I’m sincerely hoping you won’t be working phones for the rest of your life, but if you do, it’s a job you do from home, so you can do it anywhere. So, go out there! Find a new place to live in a new town. Be a new you! And don’t forget to go to True Match. I made that appointment, and it wasn’t easy, so you’re damn well keeping it, you hear me? I know better than to think you’d ever download one of them dating apps or go out to a bar or something. But maybe you can find your soulmate that way, and there will be no bullshit required. Won’t that be nice? ’

Sandy wasn’t sure if she wanted a soulmate. She wasn’t averse to the idea of a husband and kids, per se, but it was hard to think about making a new family when she just lost her old one.

Though, she supposed, that was her grandmother’s point. She didn’t want Sandy to let the years pass her by, living in memories. It was why she’d forced her out of the house they shared, made this appointment, and gave her orders to go out and live.

The lid pieces rose up from under the table, closing over her. Sandy had never been uncomfortable with enclosed spaces before, but she suddenly understood the phobia as they clicked, then hissed, locking her inside.

Her own heartbeat was too loud. She heard nothing from outside the pod, and the inside was disturbingly quiet. It wasn’t dark. There were lights running down the inside of the lid, but she wasn’t sure if that was better or worse because she could see how small the space was.

Granted, it wasn’t small . She wasn’t being suffocated. It looked like it was big enough to fit someone with a large belly, which her chubby belly didn’t really qualify, even if it was soft and round. But it was still a tightly enclosed, silent space.

She blew out a long breath and could swear she heard the air rushing through her lungs. It was viscerally uncomfortable.

“ You’re doing good, ” the tech said, her voice buzzing in through an intercom. “ I’m going to start the process now. Hold tight. ”

The warning came only seconds before the actual scan. Sandy didn’t have to ask if that was it, she knew it was.

The feeling wasn’t like being plunged into cold water or being shocked or even like there was pressure on her chest. Instead, it was an expanding type of feeling. Like all of her skin was trying to pull away from her muscles. Like she was being inflated with air and the pressure was pushing outward in a horribly disturbing manner, bordering right on the edge of pain.

She hated it and made a choked grunt of discomfort that didn’t even echo in the enclosed space. It was hollow in her ears, like all sound was being swallowed instead of reflected. Her hands tightened into fists as she clenched her entire body, as if that might keep her skin attached.

It wouldn’t, of course. And there was nothing happening to her anyway. The sensation was just that, a feeling. Her skin wasn’t moving at all. Nothing was expanding inside her. She repeated the mantra to herself again and again as the sensation passed.

The expanding feeling hit her quickly but faded slowly. The pressure gradually eased until everything felt like it was settled again. She couldn’t stop from touching herself, running her hands all over her body to make sure it really was in place.

It was. She was fine, not at all hurt.

But she was extremely grateful when the lid finally hissed and cracked open, light and air from outside rushing in. She took a grateful breath as the lid folded away.

The tech was there, smiling at her, holding a vomit bag at the ready.

“You alright?” She asked, cautious but ready to leap to her aid.

Sandy grimaced. “That sucked.”

The tech laughed, setting the bag aside as Sandy sat up. “Yeah. But at least it’s quick, and you only have to do it once! Want a juice or some water? It helps.”

Sandy accepted the water as she waited a minute to get her head back on before standing. That was apparently part of the process too, as the tech said nothing while she typed away at her computer, patient and understanding.

‘ I want you to go out into the world, Sandy, my girl. I want you to experience everything that you ever wanted to do, everything you were afraid to do, everything that seemed impossible. I want you to fall in love and have adventures and expand your horizons. I want you to live every experience you can and become richer than money could ever make you. Go on a big trip. Go make mistakes! Heck, buy clothes that are from your era and not mine for once. You don’t need orthopedic shoes, girl, I don’t care how comfy they are! Be young and wild and free! ’

Sandy left True Match and started the long journey home. Since there was only one in the world – for now anyway – it was a long trip to get there. Sandy had to book a plane ticket, and then drive over an hour back in her grandmother’s beat up old pickup truck.

She returned to an apartment that definitely didn’t feel like home. But the house had already been sold, and she had vacated it so that a new family could live in those old walls. Though it hurt, she had to admit, when she saw the couple and their three kids, she couldn’t help but agree with her grandmother’s decision.

That house was made for a family. For laughing kids running up and down the stairs. For a loving husband and wife to share lazy mornings with a hot cup of coffee on the big porch, for a dog or two to run around in the big yard.

Sandy would have been doing it a disservice to stay there all by herself. It felt right leaving it to someone who could love it properly and continue to do so for decades to come.

However, that didn’t mean the apartment she moved into felt right. It was a small studio in a town two hours from home – because she felt like that’s what her grandmother would have wanted. It wasn’t much, but at least it was a start.

But it was also empty and unwelcoming. Besides a few sentimental items – photos and one of the blankets they made together and a few treasures here and there – everything was gone. Sandy now had a mattress on the floor, a chair next to the counter that she used as a table, and an old AM/FM radio in the corner her grandmother lived to listen to and that Sandy couldn’t bring herself to throw away. She hadn’t even gotten around to getting her own furniture yet.

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure what kind of style she liked. Should she keep it the same old fashioned, cluttered, happy mess her grandmother preferred? Or would that be dishonoring her wishes? Did she go completely opposite and try for the sleek, modern, minimalist design? Because that didn’t feel like her style at all, and she hadn’t even tried it yet.

Sandy sat down on the mattress, looking at herself. She wore what her grandmother wore, because they had been about the same size, and making one dress meant they both got something new to wear. And her grandmother had an older style, so that meant Sandy had an older style. How old did she have to be before they were age appropriate? Did mid-thirties not count?

Her calf length skirt was brown tweed, her stockings were beige and warm, her shoes were clunky and, yes, comfy because they were orthopedic. That also meant they were ugly, and though she loved them, she couldn’t even deny that. Her blouse was cotton, with bell sleeves to her wrists, and a scoop collar right up to her neck with a cute little pink bow that was the only color she wore – and it was a faded, dusky kind of pink because it was recycled from old fabric.

She dressed like an old woman, up to and including the granny panties. Which were very comfortable, so she felt they got a bad rap. Sandy wasn’t even sure what lace or silk felt like on the skin, because she’d never worn it.

It could be fun to try though, right? To maybe feel sexy, not just comfy? Heck, did she even feel cute in this outfit, or did she wear it because her grandmother looked cute in it? They looked pretty similar, but they weren’t perfectly identical.

Their face shape was similar, with round faces, thin brows, and thin lips. They also had the same green eyes and long limbs. But her grandmother had been stooped with age while Sandy still stood tall and proud. Her grandmother’s skin was sagging and wrinkled, while Sandy’s was still young and taut. Her grandmother had a cap of gray curls, carefully maintained with curlers and a beauty routine straight from the forties or fifties. Meanwhile, Sandy still had all the brown in her hair, though she kind of just ignored it, so it was long, to her waist, without layers or bangs or anything else that a hair stylist might have talked her into. Because she never went to one. She and her grandmother took turns cutting each other’s hair, and straight across was about as fancy as her grandmother got.

So, she could certainly change up her style. Maybe get something new and pretty. But at the same time, the idea of trying on clothing was daunting. How was she supposed to know what looked good? Even in college, when the other girls had been finding themselves and their styles, she’d lived in jeans and t-shirts – usually school t-shirts – until she returned home. She had never worn revealing clothing before, but what if that was something she had to try? How did she match colors and patterns? Were sequins in fashion? What about fur? What would her grandmother say?

Stop asking me for every damn thing and think for yourself, girlie!

Yeah, that’s exactly what she would say, Sandy thought with a sad smile as she ran her hand over her tweed skirt.

Her clothes were brown and beige and old fashioned, but she shared this wardrobe with her grandmother, and it was hard to say goodbye to it for no good reason. It had been strange enough just to get up to go to the True Match appointment. And that had already been made and paid for long before her grandmother even passed! How was she supposed to just randomly decide to go out and do all these things?

It wasn’t a matter of courage. Sandy wasn’t really afraid – something she definitely inherited from both her grandmother and her mother. Tollman women didn’t fear anything. It was more the idea of suddenly having to make all these choices that she’d never thought of before that was overwhelming.

Blowing out a breath, she fell back onto her bed. The blankets and pillows were all hers. An abundance of softness and warmth that she had refused to leave behind. Yes, because they had made them together, but also because they made her happy. And she knew her grandmother would tell her to keep on doing things that made her happy.

‘ Be adventurous. But not stupid! Okay? I didn’t raise no fool. Well, not two of them, anyway. I’m not saying go out and get arrested! Or if you do, make it like a drunk and disorderly. Something fun that won’t leave a permanent mark, you know? That’s what living is! You’re a strong girl, Sandy. Your momma got that too, even if she turned it in a direction I don’t quite understand. Us Tollman women are headstrong and independent and stubborn. You got just as much of that as any of us. I’ve had too many fights with you to think otherwise. ’

Sandy, eyes closed, ready to take a nap after the long trip and all the nerves of the day wore her out, couldn’t help but smile.

She loved her grandmother dearly, but of course they fought. Usually over silly stuff. And sometimes, it would end with them giving each other the silent treatment. Both of them being foolish and stubborn. And then her grandmother would switch the sugar for salt or something equally childish. Or Sandy would put dye in her grandmother’s shampoo, turning her white hair pink or green or some other such color. And the petty revenge would make them laugh until they cried. And when it was all over, they wouldn’t even remember why they were mad in the first place.

Sandy turned into her pillow, holding it tight. Imagining it was her grandmother. Her pillows still smelled like home, and she didn’t want to wash them for fear that scent would go away. Not for the first time, tears began soaking into the fabric as she remembered the good times. The bad times. All the times she’d never get to have again.

‘ And since I know you’re still crying over me – despite me clearly telling you not to! – I’ll just end it with this: I love you, my girl. You’re the brightest part of my life. A precious star that no force can drag me from, not even death. I don’t know what’s waiting for us in the great beyond, but I can promise you this: I’m going to find a nice, comfy place to sit, get me some yarn or something similar, and wait. And when you show up – which better not be for at least fifty years or more! – I want to hear all your stories. All your adventures. We’ll sit on that great couch in the sky, or the racks in hell, whichever, and we’ll reminisce then.

‘So, stop that pouting. I know you’re doing it. Gather yourself up, give yourself a kick in the butt, and get out there so you have some good ones to tell me! Be brave, my Sandy girl. Be true to yourself but be fearless and explore. I love you. So much. Thanks for gilding my golden years. Now go out there and sparkle!

Love,

Lexi Tollman

PS: Don’t you dare name your kids after me! This world has enough Alexandra Tollmans in it. It can’t handle another one! Love you! ’

Sandy fell asleep with a smile on her face. Dreaming of what she wanted her first adventure to be.

She didn’t know how much later it was when her phone started ringing.

Her eyes opened, heavy from a nap interrupted, as she pulled it from her pocket. She yawned and looked at it, wondering who would be calling her. She didn’t really have friends or family left.

But the caller ID said True Match.

And her heart skipped a beat.