Without a Past by Debra Salonen

added something that sounded like, “But it feels like Tuesday.”
    Andi’s first inclination was to cry. A feeling alien to her nature. Her sisters would both vouch for the fact that the only time Andi Sullivan cried was in animal movies. Reading the young-adult novel Julie of the Wolves had reduced her to a blubbering idiot. Fortunately, she’d been in her sleeping bag with a flashlight at the time, so no one knew.
    But this crisis with her aunt was having the same effect. As a see-a-problem-then-fix-it kind of person, Andi couldn’t sit back and watch the only mother she’d ever known slowly deteriorate. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to have a choice.
    â€œI’m sorry I upset you, Auntie,” Andi said, trying for a conciliatory tone. Surely, she could muster enough patience to avoid arguing with a person who didn’t know what day of the week it was.
    Jenny would have cajoled Ida into dropping the subject; Kristin would have helped Ida work through her confusion. Unfortunately, neither of her sisters was handy. But Jenny was coming. Soon.
    Hurry, Jen. Before Bart gets here. The roofer was scheduled to meet Andi at seven-fifteen to sign the contract for the new roof.
    â€œI thought you’d be pleased to go shopping with Jenny, Ida Jane. Last night you said you couldn’t wait to pick out a dress for the wedding.”
    Ida took a slice of toast from the plate and smeared it with peanut butter. “What wedding?” she asked suspiciously.
    The queasy feeling so common in Andi’s belly lately returned. Is this how an ulcer starts? “Jenny and Sam’s wedding,” she said slowly and succinctly. She watched her aunt’s face to see if they were on the same page.
    Ida seemed to think a minute. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, dropping the toast untouched to the table. “Of course. Where is my brain? I think I’m losing my marbles.”
    The relief that washed over Andi was almost equal to the dismay that hit when she heard a knock on the screen door and spotted Bart McCloskey, clipboard in hand.
    â€œOh, there’s Bart. Auntie, maybe you should go change. Jenny will be—”
    Ida Jane let out a delighted squeal. “Bartie.”
    Andi wasn’t the only one who cringed.
    Unable to avoid the inevitable, Andi opened the door.
    â€œHi, Bart. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
    â€œBartrum. Look how you’ve grown,” Ida Jane exclaimed, hugging him with relish. “Your mother must be so proud.”
    Andi put the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher,then walked to where her aunt had waylaid the contractor. “Ida, Jenny will be here any minute. If you go get ready, you can talk to Bart before you leave. He and I have a few things to discuss.”
    â€œYep, we’re finally going to get that roof of yours replaced,” Bart said with enthusiasm.
    Big mistake. Ida gave Andi a reproving look. “What’s wrong with my roof?”
    Bart seemed oblivious to the undertones in Ida’s voice. “Just about everything,” he said, consulting his clipboard. “Those shingles are ready to disintegrate. They won’t even make good firewood they’re so rotten. You’re really lucky you haven’t had more water damage, Ida Jane. Of course, the steep pitch helps, but it can only do so much.”
    â€œWell, what’s this new roof going to cost me?” Ida asked, her eyes narrowing.
    Andi had seen this stance before—usually right before Ida Jane creamed whomever Ida suspected of cheating her.
    Bart consulted his notes then stated a figure.
    â€œWhy, Bart McCloskey!” Ida Jane exclaimed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, trying to take advantage of an old lady. I’m going to tell your mother about this.”
    Bart attempted to defend his bid—which Andi had found quite reasonable—but Ida would have nothing to do with it.