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with bookmarks with pictures of kittens, and chimpanzees, and once an overweight possum “Hanging in there.” How much money did she have? So far Brad hadn’t exactly spilled all the dirty details. Bailey wanted to drive, but Brad was finally in a better mood and she wasn’t going to push it.
    Sitting in this sexy car, Bailey began to get a few ideas. They hadn’t made love since the accident. Brad hadn’t seemed in the mood, and Bailey respected that. But sitting here, as her husband accelerated their new Jag, Bailey started feeling amorous. They used to love having sex in the backseat of cars. The cramped space, the sweat, the rush, the fear of being caught. Some of the best sex of their lives had been in the backseat of a Chevy Nova. What would it be like in this Jag?
    Brad must have been thinking the same thing. He too was looking in the backseat. But unlike Bailey, he appeared to be talking to it.
    “You ready?” he said.
    “For a quickie in the backseat?” Bailey put her hand on Brad’s knee and squeezed.
    “What?” Brad sounded appalled. “No.”
    “Oh,” Bailey said.
    “I’m sorry,” Brad said. He glanced in the rearview mirror. “It’s just that I was . . . talking to . . . Aunt Olivia.”
    Bailey whipped her head around to the backseat. There, with its seat belt fastened around it, sat Aunt Olivia’s urn. All thoughts of having sex in the backseat evaporated from Bailey’s thoughts.
    “Have you finally decided?” she asked tentatively. She’d been waiting for him to decide where to scatter the ashes. Maybe once he let go of them, he’d let go of all this near-death stuff.
    “Decided?”
    “Where to sprinkle her ashes.”
    “Oh,” Brad said. “No.”
    No, Bailey repeated to herself. No. She tried to keep her voice light, and not at all worried about his sanity. “Okay. Then why is her urn in the backseat?”
    “We’re taking her for a little drive.” Brad broke into a boyish grin.
    “Come again?”
    “I thought she’d like to drive around the city.”
    “Pull over,” Bailey demanded. “Right now.”
    “We’re in the middle of Fifth Avenue.”
    “Find a place and pull over. Please, Brad.” Brad swung the wheel to the right like a petulant child, and the Jaguar smoothly cut across two lanes and maneuvered along the curb. God, Bailey loved this car. It momentarily distracted her from the backseat.
    “What?” Brad said.
    “Why are you driving Olivia’s urn around?” Bailey asked.
    “I just thought it would be nice.”
    “Okay,” Bailey said. “But it’s kind of weird too. Don’t you think?” Please say yes. Please, please, say yes.
    Brad sighed, glanced in the backseat again. “She wanted to drive around that day,” Brad said. “And we barely went anywhere.”
    Bailey pressed the unlock button for her door and threw it open. Fifth Avenue smelled like rain and long-forgotten hot dogs.
    “Where are you going?” Brad said.
    “I just need a little air,” Bailey said.
    “Why don’t you just roll down the window?”
    “I thought I might take a little walk.”
    “Now?”
    “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot. I just—it’s been really stressful for me too, you know. And I don’t want to say anything hurtful or anything I’ll regret. So I think while you’re driving Auntie around, I’ll just walk home, get a little fresh air.”
    “A half a million dollars!”
    “What?”
    “Aunt Olivia left us a little over a half a mill,” Brad said. Bailey shut the door. She stared at Brad for a long time. Cars swished past them. Central Park horses and carriages headed home for the night. Lights twinkled down the length of Fifth Avenue. Slowly, Bailey turned and stared at Olivia’s urn. She felt a sudden fondness for the old gal. It was as if in death, Olivia Jordan had finally come to life.
    “Let’s take her over the Brooklyn Bridge, and then to the Bronx Zoo,” Bailey said.
     
    Sudden wealth. They needed time to breathe and comprehend. Half