Marcy wore one of Ellen’s oversized sweaters and held a cup of coffee in both hands.
“What if Frank threatens him?”
“Then Susan documents it.”
“What if he refuses to cooperate?”
“Then they handle it legally.”
“What if—”
I smiled.
“Marcy.”
She stopped.
“You’re doing what I did.”
“What?”
“Trying to control everything because uncertainty feels worse.”
She considered that.
“I don’t like when you’re right.”
“Neither does your mother.”
Ellen opened the screen door behind us.
“I heard that.”
“I assumed you would.”
She brought out toast.
For a few minutes, we ate without talking about Dustin, Frank, the gym, money, or anything else that had consumed our lives.
Ellen complained about a squirrel raiding the bird feeder.
Marcy told us about a patient at work who had accidentally worn two different shoes to an appointment.
I told them I had once gone through half a morning with a carpenter’s pencil behind each ear while searching for one.
