“Gigi?” I ask, my voice soft and a little disbelieving. Because standing in the front hall, in the same beige peacoat she’s had for years, her hair white and coifed in the same hairstyle she’s had since the ‘80s, stands all four-foot-ten of my elderly grandmother.

  “Jane, dear, there you are,” the woman says, slipping her feet out of the sensible sneakers she wears. “Come be a doll and help me with my coat.”

  Nancy looks back and forth between us, and I hesitate for only an additional second before I thunder down the stairs and take hold of the peacoat as my grandmother slips out of it. I hand it over mutely to Nancy, who takes it from me just as silently, and then I wrap my arms around what might be my last surviving family member. She smells like vanilla, coconut, and old person, the smell a visceral reminder of afternoons in her house playing card games and sipping too-bitter homemade lemonade. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, the epithet slipping out without plan.

  “Okay, okay,” she says, patting me on the back and then pulling away. “Let me look at you.” She lets her hands run down my arms as I step back, grasping me hands with her strong but brittle fingers. “You’ve lost weight,” she points out.

  “Gigi, it’s the apocalypse. Of course I’ve lost weight.”

  “Oh, posh,” she says, dropping my hands and waving one of her’s above her head. “An apocalypse is no reason to not maintain your figure.”

  I grin. I had almost forgotten that as much as my parents complained about my extra curves, my grandmother had always thought them beautiful. I pull her into a hug again.

  “You’re deflating my hair,” she says, once more patting my back before slipping out of my arms. She turns to Nancy, still standing there with the coat in her arms, watching our reunion with large eyes. “And who is this?” she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

  “Gigi, this is Nancy. My friend. She’s been living here, since it’s the apocalypse.”

  Gigi tuts again, but she says nothing.

  “Nancy, this is my grandmother, Abigail.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Abigail,” Nancy says politely.

  “Oh, none of that,” Gigi says, reaching out to give Nancy’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s Gigi.”

  Nancy nods, her smile warm. “Okay, Gigi.”

  The old woman turns back to me. “So my daughter and her husband didn’t make it, huh?” Gigi asks, wasting no time, striding through the house with purpose.

  “Gigi!” I scold, exchanging horrified looks with Nancy before we chase after her. She takes herself into the kitchen, heads right over to the pantry, and pulls a bottle of water from the stash. I want to scold her again, tell her that those bottles are our back-ups, that we can’t waste resources, but the woman’s in her eighties. There’s only so much I can do.

  “You can’t be delicate about these things,” Gigi says, wrenching open the cap of the bottle. She was always independent—she had to be, after being widowed nearly fifteen years ago—but she seems more solid and sturdy since I last saw her.

  In her home.

  Outside of Ottawa.

  “Gigi, do you have any… bags? Things, that you brought with you?” I look back at the front door, as if her belongings would just appear. “And how, exactly, did you get here? You don’t drive.”

  “Yes thank you, Jane, for reminding me of the things I never accomplished.”

  Nancy lets out a small gasp.

  “Oh please, Gigi, you never wanted to drive.”

  She pauses, and I wonder how much the apocalypse has changed her. But then she breaks into one of her usual conspiratorial grins and cackles. “No, I really did not.”

  I relax, and Nancy lets out a small, uncertain hum.

  “But seriously, Gigi—”

  “Oh, hush,” she says, screwing the cap back on her water. “I got a lift. He’s still outside in the car with our stuff.”

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  Nancy and I once again share a glance. “He?” I ask.

  “Our stuff?” Nancy whispers.

  The front door opens and closes and I hear Beaker and Savannah’s voices, talking quietly between themselves. Then, louder, Beaker says, “Hey Jane, there’s some rando in an idling car at the curb!”

  “I’m thinking that’s the he,” Nancy says quietly.

  I sigh. “Might as well tell him to come in, Gigi,” I say. “I want to hear your story, and I suspect he’s a part of it. And, you know, gas is a precious commodity these days. Let’s not waste it.”

  ***

  Not too long later, the seven of us are seated in and around the living room. Beaker, Savannah, and Nancy sit on the couch, Ryder on the leather recliner. Nancy pulled out a small love seat from her inventory for Gigi and her companion. The action did not go unnoticed by my wily grandmother, but she didn’t ask. She just took her seat, sitting prim and proper on the cushion beside her companion.

  He’s gotten comfortable, his long legs lounging in front of him while he leans back, one arm draped over the back of the couch. The man is huge, taller than Beaker, and jacked like a football player. He has a full head of dark, wavy hair and eyes that match, pale skin, and is dressed like the love interest in a Hallmark Christmas movie. He’s probably in his thirties.

  And I don’t think I’ve ever been physically attracted to a man more.

  It takes literally everything in me not to drool at his feet. I drag one of the kitchen chairs into the room, sitting as far away from this man as I possibly can. I am desperate to hear my grandmother’s story, but being in her companion’s presence is entirely distracting to me.

  “For those of you I haven’t met yet, I’m Gigi,” my grandmother starts. “Jane’s grandmother.” She gives me a smile, but I think she’s noticed my reluctance. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment. “My name is actually Abigail, but please don’t call me that. If you must, Gail is fine. Grandma Gail is better. Gigi, of course, is best.”

  I can’t help it, I laugh a little to myself. It’s not my mom, but having a blood relative in the room with me is so calming, so uplifting, that it’s hard to be upset.

  “And this is Colton.”

  “Hello,” he says, speaking for the first time. He lifts a hand, the one not draped across the back of the love seat, and then drops it back down onto his knee.

  It’s a good thing I’m seated, because I think my knees go weak.

  “Hi, Colton!” Ryder exclaims. “Hi, Gigi!” He’s grinning. When he came upstairs to find the two strangers in the house, he was confused for all of thirty seconds. When he found out it was my grandmother, he hugged her like she was his own.

  I guess, in a way now, she is.

  “Our story isn’t nearly as exciting as you’re making it out to be,” Gigi says, getting settled into her seat. “Colton and I live in the same building. He’s helped carry up my groceries a few times over the years, haven’t you, dear?” she asks, leaning over and patting Colton’s thigh.

  His smile at her is warm. “Yes, Gail.”

  She tuts at his use of her name, but then she goes on. “Well, it took me a couple days to realize that the whole thing happened, to be honest. We had our power go out, but the building has a backup generator, so things just went on as normal. And I didn’t have any reason to leave my apartment, so I didn’t notice.”

  My heart breaks, thinking about my grandmother alone in her apartment, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Stubborn woman refused to move out of Ottawa after my grandfather died.

  “I had some music playing while I was cooking one day, and there was a knock at my door. It was Colton, who heard the music, and came to investigate. He’s the one who told me what had happened.”

  “I really hated having to be the one to tell you that,” Colton says.

  “I know, dear,” Gigi says, patting his thigh again. “I still tried to call, and to check on the internet, but both those things weren’t working. Which is when I decided to pack up my things and make my way here. I wanted to know what happened to the three of you.” Gigi looks over at me, smiling.

  I try to smile back. But the truth is, I hadn’t once thought about if she had survived. I just assumed she hadn’t and didn’t think about it again. Until earlier today, I’d barely thought of my parents, even. When you’re fighting for your life, it’s hard to dwell on those who don’t have to.

  “I was ready to hitchhike or walk, but luckily Colton agreed to drive me.”

  “You didn’t have anyone you wanted to check on?” Savannah asks, her eyes fixed on Colton.

  Beaker’s glance between the two of them told me exactly what his concerns were.

  Colton nods. “Oh, of course I did. And I did. Check on them, I mean. My folks and my sister and her husband and their two kids.” He brushes his hair back from off his forehead. “My sister and niece survived, so I helped get them set up somewhere more secure, with lots of extra food and power back-ups and water.”

  “And then you drove Gigi out here to drop her off before going back to them,” Beaker butts in, giving a finite nod. “That’s very gallant of you. We’ll take care of her from here.” He starts to stand up, but Savannah places a hand on his chest and pushes him back into his seat. Beaker grunts.

  Colton doesn’t seem to catch the dismissal, and just gives an easy grin. “We have some family out this way, so I wanted to check in on them, as well. They’re on a rural farm property out near here somewhere, so I figured I’d help my cousins get everything organized, then go get my sister and niece and bring them back.” He gives a shrug. “Figured living on farmland was the way to go, to grow food.”

  “Isn’t he smart?” Gigi asks, smiling fondly at Colton before turning right around to smile at me. She lifts her eyebrows.

  I look down into my lap.

  “When I found out that Gail—sorry, Gigi—and I both had family out this way, I offered to drive.” Colton leans forward, letting both hands drop onto his knees. “And that’s it, that’s the whole story.”

  “Well, not really,” Ryder says. Everyone turns to the kid, whose ears turn red, but he pushes through the sudden attention. “You didn’t tell us the most important part.”

  “And what part is that?” Colton asks, curiosity in his voice.

  “What magic did you get?”