She won’t need it anymore.
Then I opened my eyes.
Julian was watching me.
“You forgot to wish.”
“No.”
I smiled.
“I already got it.”
“What?”
I looked toward the open window.
Beyond it, the evening sky was turning gold.
“My life.”
I blew out the candles.
Everyone applauded.
And that should have been the end.
But three weeks later, an envelope arrived.
No return address.
Inside was a photocopy of the original funeral-home intake sheet.
I had seen it before.
My name.
My supposed time of death.
Dr.
Crane’s signature.
Burial authorization.
Nothing unusual.
Until I noticed the handwritten line near the bottom.
Personal effects received with body: wedding ring, earrings, grandmother’s gold necklace.
My skin prickled.
The necklace.
Preston had taken it from me at the funeral.
But according to the intake form, I had arrived at the funeral home wearing it.
I turned the sheet over.
There was one sentence written on the back.
Ask why the coffin was never meant to reach Fernhaven.
No signature.
I called Quade.
Within an hour, he was sitting in my kitchen.
He read the note twice.
“This could be nonsense.”
“Could be.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
We contacted Mr.
Harlan.
He went quiet when I showed him the photocopy.
Too quiet.
“Harlan?”
He removed his glasses.
“I was hoping this would stay buried.”
A terrible choice of words.
“What?”
He sat down.
“The coffin delivered to your mother’s house was not the coffin listed on the original order.”
Quade leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“Your mother changed it that morning.”
“Why?”
“She requested a cheaper model.”
