She glanced out at the harbor, the first of the lobster boats chugging across the quiet water in the murky predawn light. Patrick kissed the top of her head. He was paunchy and gray-haired himself, and as good a man as Olivia had ever known. "You're morbid, Aunt Olivia. I'm talking to your doctor about antidepressants to smooth out your moods."

"There's nothing wrong with my moods."

He laughed and winked at her on his way out, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Olivia knew better.

She abandoned her obituary and rolled a fresh sheet of paper into her IBM. Even slowed by arthritis and age, she managed to type quickly. Chapter One. She scrolled down a few lines.

And stopped.

She knew she'd go no further.

She couldn't kill off Jen Periwinkle.

Olivia had watched herself wither and wrinkle, but Jen remained forever sixteen, always ready to solve her next mystery. She was timeless. She used her wits-never violence-to solve crimes. That was Olivia's pact with her readers-Jen Periwinkle wouldn't have to resort to violence to achieve her results. She occasionally brandished a gun and once a sword, but she never drew blood.

To kill her off, Olivia meant to have her die saving someone, probably a child. Mr. Lester McGrath, Jen's evil nemesis through all seventy-two books, would have to die, too, but as a result of her intelligence and bravery, not at her hands.

"Aunt Olivia…Aunt Olivia!"

Zoe rushed into the kitchen from the side entrance. Olivia hadn't noticed the sun had come up, and she didn't have a good sense of how much time had passed since Patrick was here. An hour? The sun sparkled on the harbor waters and reflected the stunning fall foliage. Boats were out. Olivia tried to focus on Zoe, but realized something was terribly wrong and wanted to dive back into Jen Periwinkle's fictional world.