Mina was too stunned to reply.

“Tomorrow, most likely,” Brian continued into the silence. “I’ll arrange for someone to stay with you and help out for a while. Until you can get around on your own.”

Mina felt breathless, as if a closed door she’d been pressing against had suddenly been pulled open on her and she’d gone tumbling, like Alice down the rabbit hole.

“What’s the matter?” Brian said. “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It is. Of course it is.”

“I know when to stop beating a dead horse.” Mina winced at his analogy. “Besides, it’s your life. And who’s to say, maybe you’re right.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go.” He stood, fished Mina’s car keys from his pocket, and threaded them back on the key ring. “Here,” he said, tossing the key ring on the tray table. “Drive, if you insist. Be my guest.”

Mina snatched the keys before he could change his mind. She knew he was up to something.

Chapter Forty-one

It was dark out by the time Evie left the ICU with Ginger. Now she knew what “serious but stable” condition looked like. They left their phone numbers stuck to their mother’s chart at the nurses’ station.

As they rode down in the elevator, Ginger said, “I feel so awful about saddling you with all this. Insisting that you come and take charge. I didn’t realize it would be like this. That she’d . . .” Ginger swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand and fished a tissue out of her purse. She dabbed at her eyes, then continued. “It was me that Mom especially asked Mrs. Yetner to call. And now she’s in a coma that she may never come out of. And I can’t remember what the last thing I said to her was.” She blew her nose. “It was weeks ago, and I’d been so relieved she wasn’t calling and waking us up in the middle of the night that it never occurred to me that something might be, you know, wrong.”

They got out in the lobby. Evie looked around the cavernous space, so much emptier and quieter now than it had been when they arrived. A siren wailed outside.

“Love you, Ma,” Evie said. She felt exhausted.

“What?”

“That’s what I’m sure you said to her. It’s what you always say last.”

“Oh, God, I hope so.”

“I know so. Because you’re the good daughter.” Evie hooked her arm in Ginger’s and gave her a zerbert on the cheek. “You go home. I’m going to find Mrs. Yetner. She’s been so kind to me and she doesn’t have much family, only a nephew. Then I’ll go back up to check on Mom to see if anything’s changed before heading home.”

“Promise you’ll call me if there’s anything?”

“Promise.” Evie went to the information desk to find Mrs. Yetner’s room number. When she got back, Ginger was drying her eyes.

“I’m coming with you,” Ginger said.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. Mom told Mrs. Yetner to call me.”

Evie and Ginger took the elevator to the third floor, General Medical. As they got closer to the open door, a man Evie recognized as Mrs. Yetner’s nephew backed into the corridor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned and almost ran smack into Evie and Ginger.

“How is she?” Evie asked.

“Feisty as ever.” Brian glanced over his shoulder into Mrs. Yetner’s room, then back at Evie. “I guess I’d be a lot more worried if she wasn’t.” He strode off down the hall.

Evie went to the open door and peered inside. Mrs. Yetner was lying in the raised hospital bed, facing away from the door.

“Hello?” Evie said. “Can we come in?”

Mrs. Yetner turned her head. “Oh! It’s you.” She gestured Evie into the room. She was as pale as the bedsheets, but her eyes were as clear and sharp as ever.

Evie went over to the bed. “I ran into your nephew. He said you fell? That you had surgery?”

“Surgery?” Mrs. Yetner seemed to summon her dignity, sitting straighter, but a spasm of pain stopped her. “Not exactly. They put me out and snapped me back together. My artificial hip.”

Evie winced, thinking of the pop beads she and Ginger used to play with.

“Painful but not life threatening. Unfortunately for Brian.”

“Hi, Mrs. Yetner,” Ginger said, coming from behind Evie and approaching the bed. Gently she took Mrs. Yetner’s hand. “You remember me?”

Mrs. Yetner’s eyes widened. “Ginger? Of course I remember you. Miss Root Beer Popsicle. I used to keep some in the icebox, just for you.” Under Mrs. Yetner’s appraising look, Ginger smoothed her rumpled T-shirt and patted her hair.

Mrs. Yetner’s gaze shifted back and forth from Evie to Ginger. “Oh, girls, don’t look at me like that. I’m not ready for last rites. And I’ve already been up and around.”

“You have? That’s wonderful,” Evie said, wiping away an unexpected tear.

“And I’ll be going home soon. As long as that thing”—she pointed at the monitor by the bed—“doesn’t misbehave.”

Ginger pulled over a chair. “Thank you for calling me about Mom. We’d never have known otherwise.”

Mrs. Yetner smiled. “How is she?”

“She’s okay.” Ginger mouth quivered as she exchanged a look with Evie. “She’s not okay. She’s in a coma. She’s never going to be”—Ginger hiccuped—“okay. Oh, I don’t mean to burden you with all this. You’ve got your own problems to deal with. But the message you left me? You said she wanted me to know something, but then you didn’t get a chance to say what it was.”

“Oh dear.” Mrs. Yetner blinked. “What did she say? Something about don’t tell him—”

“Who?”

“She didn’t say. I wrote down her exact words. I’m sure I did. Because I knew I’d forget.” She looked at Evie. “You’ll find it in the house. It was”—Mrs. Yetner strained to find the memory—“on a slip of paper that the ambulance person gave me. She wrote down Ginger’s phone number, and when I got in the house, I wrote down exactly what your mother said because my brain is a sieve these days.” She pushed the key ring that was on her tray table over. “Here. Evie, you go in and see if you can find the note. And please. I’ve been so worried about Ivory. Could you feed her and let her sit in your lap for a bit? She won’t eat dry food. There’s tins of wet food in the cabinet. Tuna and mackerel—that’s her favorite. And could you see that she has fresh water and scoop out her litter box?”

“Should I let her out?”

“Let her out?” Mrs. Yetner looked horrified. “As in outside out? She wouldn’t know what to do with herself. She’s used to being inside, and she’s used to having company.”

“I could take her home with me.”

“Heavens, no. She’s never lived anywhere but with me and she’s a bit high-strung. If you get there and can’t find her, she’ll be hiding under the living room sofa.”

“I’ll feed her as soon as I get back,” Evie promised. “And I can check in the morning and feed her before I leave.”

“Or . . . why don’t you stay in my house? Would you?”

Evie had mounds of trash yet to deal with, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave her mother’s house empty overnight. “Why don’t we play it by ear?”

“The upstairs bedroom is all yours,” Mrs. Yetner went on. “There’s fresh towels and sheets in the linen closet. Just until I’m back, of course. And then, when I get home”—Mrs. Yetner cleared her throat—“we can have that talk about what it was like. You were right. I was working at the Empire State Building on that terrible morning.”

Chapter Forty-two

Before Evie left, Mrs. Yetner told her to leave the keys under a whitewashed rock by the back porch where she could find them when she got home. As Evie sat in the passenger seat of Ginger’s minivan for the short ride from the hospital, she called work and left a message that she’d be out but checking e-mail.

When they pulled up at their mother’s house, Ginger sat there for a few moments staring out the car window. “Dear God,” she said. “You told me, but I really had no idea how bad it was.”