Mitch pulled into the church parking lot. Diagnosis. What an ugly word. “They’re pretty sure it’s Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh, Mitch.” Marge put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

It wasn’t her problem. Wasn’t her mother. Wasn’t even her business, though whether something was or was not her business didn’t seem to impact her knowledge or interest in the something. Mitch killed the engine and grunted. She meant well. At least she cared. But . . .

“We’ll be fine,” he said.

She followed him out of the truck and into the building. He walked at a fast pace, hoping to deter any further questions. They paused in front of Frank’s office, and Mitch knocked.

“Come on in.”

Mitch held the door open for Marge and ushered her inside.

Frank sat behind his desk with a grin on his face. “It’s good to see you two.”

He didn’t tack the word together on the end, but Mitch could read it all over his face. Oh, brother. How had he gotten himself into this again?

Mitch had been raised to tackle his problems head-on. So when Dorothy arrived and took Marge to the community room to start planning decorations for the fundraiser, Mitch didn’t waste any time.

“Go ahead and say it.”

Frank leaned back in his chair with an amused expression. “It’s nice to see you getting out more. Getting involved.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“You don’t want to say anything about”—he glanced over his shoulder at the still-open door and lowered his voice—“Marge?”

“What’s there to say? You’re both concerned about the Tuckers and want to help. That’s all there is to it, right?”

“Right.” Mitch let out a breath. “Exactly. That’s all there is to it.”

“And even if there was more to it, you wouldn’t want me pointing it out or talking about it.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

“And you definitely wouldn’t want me asking all kinds of probing and embarrassing questions about your feelings or intentions.”

“My what?”

Frank raised his hands in surrender. “You brought it up, not me.”

Mitch shook his head. “You’re the worst.”

“She’s very enthusiastic.”

“I thought you said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” Frank laced his fingers together behind his head. “Besides, what you want and what you need are not always the same thing.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Does she know that?”

“She won’t leave me alone.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Mitch squeezed the back of his neck. “Has the church board changed their minds yet about your salary?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I still think you’re getting screwed over.”