The best stories all start with death, but even though this one does too, it's far from the best.

My parents died about a month after my graduation, in a car accident, like thousands of Americans every year. They left my younger sister and I the whole estate because I was legal, and because they didn't trust the rest of our family, not in those last couple of years.

It took us only six months to hire managers for everything--my mother's tailoring company, the rental properties, and our quiet slice of paradise back in rural Skagen--as well as settle the family's law suits. So many audacious lawsuits.

We moved up north after that, where it's quieter--away from the hustling, bustling city and away from the insidious whispers of the old aunts and the great uncles--but we couldn't stray too far because family is family, and because we have to keep a lookout for the knives, hidden behind backs and up skirts. Metaphorically, of course. Then, life found a way to settle back into its original hum and drum, with the cranky Monday morning walks with Annemarie to her new high school and the drowsy afternoons at the accounting firm's office, until all that was left to remind us of the last year's tragic events were the monthly checks from the tenants. I should really set up a direct deposit for that.

"I'm going straight to the shelter after school today."

I glanced at my sister, surprised. "Now when did that happen? I've been pestering you for weeks without a word of response, but now you're already signed up and everything?"

"Yeah," she said as we crossed the street, "It was a crazy coincidence actually. Remember Hannah? She was handing out flyers from the shelter today during lunch. She's been volunteering there since sophomore year, and she said they've been looking to recruit since last year's senior all moved away."

"Hey that's great! Now you'll have a friend there! How often does she go?"

"Just once a week. Our plan is to go together and do homework afterwards."

"Yeah sure 'homework.' What kind of high school senior actually does homework?"

Anne just rolled her eyes. "Well there's an aesthetic little cafe next door, and Hannah says one of the baristas there is super cute."

I grinned. "Really now? Well good luck. I'm sure he'll be head over heels as soon as he lays eyes on you! Do you need me to pick you up afterwards?"

"No," she said, slowly pedaling backwards toward the open doors of the school building, "We'll just walk home!"

"Alright! See you later!"

I waved, but she was already too engulfed by the impeding sea of backpacks and teenaged chatter to see.