what could’ve happened. They concluded that the crime was almost certainly caused by kids. The cart belonged to a member who, according to Sean, had a bad habit of leaving his cart shed unlocked. He wouldn’t be doing that anymore.
“The greens are so manicured,” Lily commented. “How will they get it back to the condition it was before?”
“They’ll never get it back to its original state,” said Sean.
“I think it’s terrible,” she said. “What were those kids thinking?”
“I’m sure they weren’t thinking at all. It can be fixed. New grass always comes in greener after burning, anyway.”
The Golden Hills care facility was beautifully landscaped, with a view of the Columbia River and the snow-clad cone of Mount Hood floating in the distance. Crystal and her mother had chosen this place together a long time ago, after the first series of strokes, from which she made only a partial recovery. In March, a massive stroke had nearly been fatal. “Sometimes,” Crystal had told Lily, “I think it would have been a mercy if it had taken her. It’s taken everything else, all her memories, everything that makes her her.”
To Lily, it seemed a singularly cruel existence. Her condition had stolen all the years of a rich, full life, and left Dorothy bedridden and unaware that she had a daughter who had died and grandchildren who loved her.
“Grandma stays in bed all the time now,” Charlie told Sean as they headed for the covered walkway leading to the entrance. “She can’t even go out in a wheelchair anymore.”
He took her hand. “What was she like before she got sick?”
“Only the best grandma in the whole wide world.” There was a bounce in Charlie’s step as she walked.
“I’ll bet she was.” He lifted his arm and Charlie twirled under it.
“Now me,” said Ashley, straining to get down. “Me!”
Outside the doors of the nursing home, he twirled both girls, their images reflected in the glass of the foyer windows.
All right, so the house is a mess and he lets his girlfriend spend the night, thought Lily. At least he dances with his nieces. She glanced over at Cameron to see him watching, too, with a very slight and cryptic smile that disappeared the moment he felt her watching him. He was so angry, she thought. So unsure of himself. “When was the last time you saw her?” she asked him.
“Last month,” he said. “We brought some pictures to hang in her room. She’s not doing so hot.” He stepped in front of the automatic doors and they swished open. “She’ll probably die pretty soon.” He hurried inside.
Regardless of the pristine beauty of the gardens and the luxurious, upscale decor of the facility itself, there was no disguising the fact that this was a place where people came to endure the most difficult phase of their lives. A peculiar hush pervaded the lobby and the long hallways lined by doors wide enough to provide wheelchair access. The scent of air freshener didn’t quite mask the ever-present odor of urine and disinfectant.
The staff didn’t wear standard nursing uniforms, but rather color-coordinated sweaters and skirts or slacks. Lily thought they looked a bit like flight attendants or casino workers. Yet everyone here seemed to treat people with compassion and dignity, a trait Dorothy used to be quick to notice back when she was capable of noticing such things.
Crystal had admitted the cost of the care facility was wiping her out, but she didn’t care about that.
Lily glanced at Cameron as they headed toward Dorothy’s room. “That was a pretty rotten thing to say. I hope your sisters didn’t hear.”
He surprised her by saying, “I wouldn’t have said it if I thought they could hear.”
Lily touched his sleeve. He was being painfully honest, and he probably had the facts down better than anyone. What she really wanted to do was hug him, but she doubted he’d tolerate that. He was pushing her and everyone else to treat him normally, to dare people to get mad at him. And in Cameron’s anger and isolation, she recognized a little of herself, and that worried her. “Cameron—”
Charlie rushed past them, breaking the moment of connection. “Come on, Uncle Sean. I’ll show you where Grandma lives. She knit me this sweater. It used to be extra big because she wanted me to wear it as long as possible.” She showed off her pink cardigan, holding out her arms. “It’s getting really small on me.”
“Then you’d better quit growing,” said Sean. He gave