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“No, thank you. I just finished organizing my clothes.”
Whitney glanced at the dresser in the corner. Clothes spilled out over the overstuffed drawers. The closet was empty. Tomorrow, her mother would take everything from the drawers and hang it all in the closet. She did this on the days Whitney didn’t make it in for a visit. The doctor said it was her way of staying busy, feeling like she’d accomplished something.
Whitney went to the drawer and took out her mother’s favorite blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. “I like this. Can we put this one on?”
“I don’t think it will fit you, dear. You’re so tiny,” she said.
Whitney set the shirt aside. She’d try again later.
Her mother sent a sidelong glance toward Trent.“Psst.”She nodded Whitney closer. “Is he a cop?”
“No. He owns a bar in town. Trent’s Tavern.”
“Damn. I thought he might be able to help me.”
“I can still try to help,” Trent said, standing and approaching. “What do you need?”
Lydia waved him closer. He bent at the knees to listen and meet her gaze.
“The staff here are stealing from me,” she whispered.
“What are they taking?” he asked.
“My wedding ring,” she whispered, her forefinger and thumb circling her ring finger of her left hand. “I can’t find it. And now my husband thinks I don’t love him. That’s why he hasn’t been by to see me in a few days.”
Whitney turned away, needing a second.
Hallucinations were a side effect of the medication, but they gave her mom comfort. Without the meds the last few days, the visions of her father had stopped. Meaning other effects—the important ones that helped with these episodes of forgetting—had, too.
“Well, then we need to find it,” Trent said.
“Do you know where the nurses might be keeping it?” Lydia’s eyes widened.
“You know, you could be right that the nurses took it, but my guess is they put it somewhere safe for you,” Trent said, standing and scanning the room.
“Maybe…” Lydia said, not convinced.
Whitney watched as Trent opened a jewelry box on the dresser and retrieved the antique wedding band. “Is this it?” he asked.
Her mother’s face lit up.
God, she loved this man so much.
He handed her mother her ring, and she slid it on effortlessly. She’d lost a lot of weight since moving into assisted living. Refusing her meds often went hand in hand with refusing to eat or bathe or participate in activities. The ring dangled from her thin finger, and Whitney knew the nurses kept it in the box so she wouldn’t lose it for real.
“Thank you, young man,” her mother said.
“My pleasure,” Trent said. “But hey, could you do something for me?”
Lydia eyed him suspiciously. “Like what?”
He picked up her pills and a glass of water. “The nurses here really ride my ass when you don’t take these, so you think you could help a guy out?”
Lydia’s laugh made tears spring to Whitney’s eyes, and she wiped them fast before anyone saw.
“Fine. Hand them over,” Lydia said, taking them and washing them down with the water.
“Thanks,” Trent said, winking at her above her mother’s head. “Now, how about you change into that shirt and I’ll kick your ass at Gin.”
