CHAPTER 1


Chai tea was Alice's favorite. She'd been handed a saucer and cup containing it once when she was very little. Since then, drinking it had become like religion for her. No one in Alice's immediate family was able to stand any sort of tea that didn't come from an instant package and involve ice. The one relative to bestow the love of chai and other teas upon her was Great Aunt Alice, after whom she was named. Aunt Alice habitually hosted tea parties on her front lawn, which little Alice was always cordially invited to attend. She always sent small note cards with gold text proclaiming the event. It was a wonderful excuse to put on an old-fashioned dress and eat jam all day. The real reason to stop by one of Aunt Alice's tea parties, however, was for the entertainment. She was quite the fan of Lewis Caroll, and would tell bits and pieces from Looking Glass and Wonderland, as if she had lived them. It seemed hers was the life on a magical, wonderful person, and Alice wanted that.

Alice was to attend one last tea party before she left for an art high school she'd been accepted to. On a Tuesday in August, she waited out front by her gate for an hour, hoping the invitation would come in the post. The truck came by and the post man delivered all he had. There was no sign of an invitation. For about a week, Alice would stand outside, obsessively waiting for the post man. He was always there, but never with the invitation. She finally gave up receiving it and chalked it up to her aunt getting older and possibly even forgetful. Though as soon as she thought it, she knew she didn't believe it. Aunt Alice would never forget to invite her.

Alice handed the stack of bills and envelopes to her mother and sat down to watch her open them. She sipped at her cup of chai tea she'd fixed before heading outside. Her mom rifled through the stiff white envelopes and glossy magazines. Then suddenly she stopped at a particular letter, and set everything else on the table to allow her some freedom to read it. She ripped open the top of the small white envelope and slipped out a piece of salmon colored paper. Her hand shook as she read it and she drew in a deep breath. She handed the paper to Alice, then retreated upstairs to her room.

Liza,

It's a sad thing for our only contact in years to involve something as devastating as what I'm about to write. Alice was having some health problems, ones your were evidently unaware of. She was suffering from Leukemia, but refused to let on to you or to your Alice. She did not undergo any sort of treatment, because the cancer had been caught so late. She thought it pointless to spend her last few years so miserable. Not 48 hours ago, she passed on. I'm sorry this is the way you had to hear it, and from me of all people. Perhaps our next letter will be about something a litt less morose. Tell my grand daughter I love and miss her.

Mom