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“Sorry, but he doesn’t look right without it. Have you seen him like this before?” She steps back and gestures at Dad’s shiny head and bland clothing. Dad’s gaze swings from one to the other, like a spectator at a ping pong match.
“No, but that’s no reason to be rude.” John taps a finger against Maddie’s phone, drawing Dad’s attention back to it. “This is Destiny. At your wedding.”
Dad looks at the phone, then rubs his bald head. “Jerome! Where is that boy?”
Justin steps into the room. “It’s Justin, sir. Always has been, always will be. And I’m thirty-seven.”
“Whatever. Get my hair! I can’t look like this when there are guests in the house.” Dad pushes himself to his feet. “The rest of you can get out until I’m properly attired.”
The therapist puts a hand on Dad’s arm. “We aren’t finished with your exercises.”
“Yes, we are. Go away. You can come back some other time. You will, whether I want you to or not.” He makes shooing motions at all of us. “Everyone, get out. I’m not ready to see any of you.”
John strides out of the room, already talking on his phone with someone—probably the lawyer. Maddie grabs her device off the table and hurries out behind our brother. I follow them and the therapist brings up the rear, still muttering about her time being wasted.
We gather in the kitchen, where Maddie settles onto a stool. “I need a smoothie.” She taps the phone. “Do you think any place around here delivers? Last time I was here, I couldn’t find anything. This town is so rural!”
John wanders into the living room, talking into his phone in a low voice.
I open the fridge and pull out a container of yogurt and some fruit. “I can make you a smoothie, Madison.”
She looks up in surprise. “You can?”
“Sure. Berries, yogurt, protein powder, a little stevia, some spinach if there is any.” I dig through the produce drawer and pull out a bag of greens. “Or baby kale.”
She watches, fascinated, as I dig a blender out of a cupboard and set it on the counter. “I had no idea you could cook, Nic.”
“It’s hardly cooking.” Not like Matt’s chicken alfredo. Sighing, I turn to the therapist. “You want some?”
She shakes her head. “I need to call my agency. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Didn’t Justin already do that?” I scoop some yogurt into the blender jar. “Say, is it normal for people to experience memory loss with a stroke?”
She nods. “I can’t speak to your father’s condition, but I can confirm memory loss can be caused by a stroke. It can also be caused by medication. I can’t tell you what he’s taking, but at least one common stroke drug is linked to memory issues.”
“And he’s been sneaking cigarettes.”
I stare at Maddie. “How do you know?”
“Didn’t you smell it? Unless one of the nurses—”
The therapist’s head shakes in a jerky negative. “No. That’d get them fired. But it would make his condition—” She looks over her glasses at me. “Age is the number one cause of memory loss.”
I frown. “He’s only seventy.”
Maddie looks up in surprise. “I thought he was sixty!”
“Actually,” the therapist says, “according to his medical—” She breaks off, pressing her lips together.
“What?” Maddie and I ask together.
“I can’t tell you. I can’t discuss a patient’s medical or personal information with a non-authorized family member.” With an almost violent shake of her head, she hurries out of the room. The front door slams a few seconds later.
John stalks into the room. “The law firm is sending someone up to speak with us.”
“Richard?” I put the lid back on the yogurt and dump some berries into the blender jar.
“Richard is no longer with the firm.” John’s face is dark. “He’s been disbarred. Apparently, he and Destiny were caught…”
