''You heard that the lottery is up to 12 million dollars?'' Aunt Dee started her telephone call. ''And each person who buys a ticket has a chance in a million to win?''

I thought I knew what was coming, but I was wrong.

''You remember that Uncle Raphael, he should rest in peace, used to tell me all the time that I was one in a million?''

''That's true,'' I said. I did indeed remember that when Aunt Dee pulled one of her typical shtick Uncle Raphael would exclaim in fond exasperation, ''One in a million! She's one in a million.'' There was the time when she had wheeled the demonstration model of the outdoor grill out of the store, with the guard chasing her all the way.

''I paid for it,'' she shouted at him, ''I don't see why I should have to pay again to have to put it together.''

The guard had given up in disgust and she had triumphantly taken the grill to the car. ''One in a million!'' Uncle Raphael had said to the guard, to the staring customers and to the world in general, as he followed her out of the store.

''Well,'' Aunt Dee continued, bringing me back to the present, ''it's like Uncle Raphael sent me a message from beyond to buy a lottery ticket. I'm the one in a million, so I'll win.''

''You're going to buy only one ticket?'' I asked.

''What do I need with more than one?'' she said. ''You can't win twice!''

Aunt Dee did buy one ticket. It didn't win. I expected anger, or at least distress from her when she called me with the news. But to my surprise she accepted the turn of events calmly, even philosophically. ''I guess Uncle Raphael didn't want to make me conceited,'' she explained. ''He really thought I was one in a billion. ''