“I’m glad we talked to her yesterday. At least we know what she wants,” Ginger said, yawning and stretching.

“She never even opened my birthday card,” Evie said. In spite of herself, she could feel tears rise and her throat close up.

“Oh, Evie. You know you’re being ridiculous.” Ginger gave her a sympathetic look. “And you look awfully pale. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Just coffee at work.”

“No wonder. Let’s go downstairs and grab a bite.”

“Shouldn’t we take turns?”

Ginger turned and looked at their mother. At the numbers that weren’t moving. A nurse went by and Ginger stopped her. “Would it be okay if we went downstairs, just for ten minutes or so, to get something to eat?”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “Give me your cell number and I’ll call if there’s a change, though I doubt there will be.”

A few minutes later, they stepped off the elevator in the lobby. In the café, Evie grabbed a packaged ham-and-cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water and got in the cashier’s line to pay.

“I’m sorry,” the cashier was telling the man in line in front of her, “we don’t have lattes. Just coffee. Caf or decaf.”

Ginger got in line behind Evie. She’d ladled herself what looked like a cup of pea soup so thick that the plastic spoon was standing straight up in it.

“Ma’am?” Evie turned. The cashier was holding out her hand so she could scan Evie’s purchases. Evie handed them to her.

The man in front of her had stepped aside. She noticed he had a black vinyl woman’s purse tucked under his arm. That made her sad. There was only one reason why a man would be carrying an old-fashioned and well-worn woman’s purse in a hospital cafeteria.

She gave the cashier a ten-dollar bill. That’s when she recognized the man. “Excuse me,” she said to him. “You’re my neighbor’s nephew, aren’t you?”

The man gave her a startled look. Some of his coffee sloshed onto his hand from the open lid and he jumped back.

Evie said, “My mother. She lives”—she took the two quarters and a penny change from the cashier and dropped them into a tips cup—“I mean, lived—I mean—” Which was right? Evie had no idea. She teared up.

The nephew looked at her in dismay. “Oh, right. Of course,” he said. “Next door to Aunt Mina. Is your mother here in the hospital?” He glanced past her, uneasily shifting from foot to foot like he was afraid to ask how her mother was doing.

Ginger had paid for her soup and stepped out of line. She elbowed Evie. Evie took the hint. “Ginger, remember Mom’s neighbor, Mrs. Yetner? This is her nephew. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Brian Granville,” he said. “I’d offer to shake, but I’ve managed to spill coffee all over myself.” He snagged a napkin and wiped his hands.

Ginger said, “Your aunt is the one who called to tell us that Mom had been taken to the hospital. She left a message on my voice mail, and I remembered who she was right away. It was very thoughtful of her to call me. Otherwise we’d never have known.”

“My aunt.” Brian blinked three times. “Actually, she’s why I’m here.”

“What?” Evie’s stomach turned over. “She’s here? She’s all right, isn’t she? I mean, I saw her just last night.”

“She lost her bearings in a parking lot. Fell. It was a miracle that a truck didn’t back right over her. At her age?” He shook his head, his face somber. “And, well, you know how headstrong she can be. Did not want to come to the hospital. Not one bit. She’s in surgery now.”

“Surgery—?” Evie started to ask, but Brian’s eyes focused on something behind her, and something in his expression made Evie turn to look. There was Mrs. Yetner’s favorite neighbor, Frank Cutler. He’d probably come over to visit Evie’s mother.

Evie went over to him. “Frank?” she said. “It’s Evie Ferrante, Sandra’s daughter. Did you come to see her?”

“I . . .” Frank Cutler glanced between Evie, Ginger, and Brian. “Yes, of course. I was about to go up.”

“She’d be so pleased. And we’ll let her know, but I’m afraid she’s had a setback and she’s been moved to intensive care. They only let family in.”

“Family. Of course. I didn’t realize.”

“I’m sorry you had to make the trip for nothing.”

“You’ll tell her I was here and asking after her, won’t you?” He started to turn to go.

“Did you know someone broke into her house yesterday?” Evie asked.

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that. Another burglary? What did they take?”

A shipping box. Vitamins. That sounded so lame. “You were around during the day, weren’t you? Because Mrs. Yetner saw you out in the rain, talking to the man who came for my mother’s car. What I wondered was, did you see anyone letting themselves into the house? Because there was no sign of a break-in. Do you know who my mother might have given keys?”

“Keys?” A muscle worked in Frank Cutler’s jaw.

“Maybe she gave you a set?”

“You think I had something to do with this break-in?”

“No,” Evie said quickly. “I’m asking, because Mrs. Yetner saw you—”

He held up his hands to stop her. “That woman. Busybody. Far too much time on her hands. Nothing to do but interfere.” He looked across at Brian. “Sorry, but that’s the truth. And yes, I was there. I wanted to know what had happened to Sandy’s car. If there was anything I could do to help. If there was more vandalism or another break-in. The police told you that, didn’t they?”

It wasn’t until Evie and Ginger were back in the ICU, sitting with their mother and finishing their food when it occurred to Evie that the police hadn’t said anything about a rash of vandalism or break-ins. Seemed like the kind of thing they should at least have mentioned.

Chapter Forty

Mina felt warm, buoyant, like she was floating in bathwater, oddly out of kilter and misconnected like one of those Picasso portraits with the drooping eyes. She was surrounded by people in white. Angels? The joke would be on her if there turned out to be any.

Beep, beep, beep. Beyond the figures huddled over her she caught glimpses of neon-green lines tracing out wave patterns.

One of the figures was bending over her now. She felt pressure on her side. A pull on her leg. Stronger pulling. Pop. She felt it ripple down her leg and across her pelvis. A moment, just a moment of what she diagnosed as pain. Lightning zapping through her.

Beep-beep-beep. The sound accelerated.

“There. It’s back in.” A man’s voice.

“Blood pressure’s a hundred and thirty-five over eighty.” A woman’s voice.

“I’ve got it.” A man’s. Pressure on her arm. A pinch.

There. Moments later Mina settled. Her Picasso eye was in alignment now. She felt her leg being lifted, bent, straightened.

“Looking good.” The man’s voice again, the words reaching her as if through wads of cotton batting. Like the soft diapers her mother used for years to dust the furniture, until they turned to shreds.

Mina felt herself moving now, ceiling lights streaming overhead like the white lines on a highway. Into the elevator. Doors closing. Home. Mina was sure she could hear her own voice. Take me home.

But when she woke up later, who knew how much later, she was in a hospital room.

“Mrs. Yetner?” Was that Brian’s voice? Why would he be calling her that? “Can you hear me?”

Mina opened her eyes. A man was stooped over her and silhouetted against the sun, which was low in the sky and shining in through a window. A hospital window. The man had on a white coat, but his face was a blur. All Mina could make out was that he had a full beard.

“I’m Dr. Milner. How are you feeling?”

Mina’s tongue felt thick, and her throat was raw. She reached out a hand, groping for her glasses on the table by the bed.

“Here. Let me help you with those.” He slid on her glasses and smiled down at her. White teeth. The beard was neatly clipped. He couldn’t possibly be more than twenty-five. “Are you in pain?” he asked.