Bea’s father shifted to peer out the window. “Where do you think Dad went? It’ll be dark soon.”

“What?” Grandma’s brow furrowed as she looked around the table. “Oh. Yes. I’m sure he’s fine.”

A feeling of impending loss tightened Bea’s chest. She’d been reading up on Alzheimer’s disease and had learned about sundowning, when people struggling with dementia grew more confused and disoriented at the end of the day. She made note of the worried look on Grandma’s face and feared they were losing her.

She nudged her father and leaned close to his ear. “Maybe we should go. Before . . .”

He pressed his lips together. “You might be right. But we can’t leave until your grandpa’s back.”

Ken overheard them and said, “I have so many questions I want to ask still. I told her my whole story, but she hasn’t told me hers.”

“You can stay with us tonight.” Mitch looked out the window again. “Maybe we can come back in the morning. Oh, there he is.”

The front door opened, and they all listened to the sound of boots scraping against the entryway rug. Bea stood, and Jeremy followed her lead. It was time to go home. But Ken wasn’t ready.

“Why did you call me Marshall?” Ken took Grandma’s hand in his. “Just tell me that one thing. Did you name me before they took me away?”

Grandma was quiet for a long moment, and Bea held her breath, afraid Grandma might say she didn’t remember. Or worse, might ask Ken who he was and what he was doing in her house. Grandpa Rand appeared in the kitchen entrance and stopped, leaning against the wall. Grandma didn’t see him.

“Rand’s middle name is Marshall.” Grandma’s voice was higher and shakier than before, like the wind whistling through a hole in the barn. “I told Aunt Gladys that if you were a boy, I wanted to name you after a good man. Someone with a good heart. I’d known Rand my whole life and couldn’t think of anyone better than him. I wanted you to grow up to be like that.”

“It says Ken on my birth certificate.”

Grandma stuck her hand in her pocket and nodded. “They didn’t let me choose. Your . . . uh, parents, they had already told the nurse what your name should be. But to me, you were always Marshall.”

She looked over at Mitch and smiled. “My two boys. Marshall and Mitch. Mylanta.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Ken rose to his feet. “Can I come back tomorrow? I’ll have a little time before I have to catch my flight home.”

Grandma didn’t answer. She stared at her lap.

Ken noticed Grandpa Rand standing by the wall. “Would that be all right with you, sir?”

Grandpa nodded.