Jeremy nodded back. “Ken get on the road okay?”

Bea grabbed an apple from the bowl and began slicing it. “Yep. I feel bad Grandma didn’t recognize him today.”

“That was rough.” Jeremy snuck a potato chip from an open bag. “Did the doctor say she could get so bad so fast?”

Mitch shook his head. “He never said she couldn’t. He said dementia is very unpredictable.”

Bea pulled three plates from the cupboard. “I don’t like seeing her that way.”

“Me neither.” Mitch watched Bea take bread from a bag. Maybe there would be another good thing to come out of all this. Maybe now Bea would understand why they had to move his mother to an assisted-living home in Ponderosa. “Which reminds me—I’ve narrowed it down to two places for Mom in Ponderosa. I’ve got meetings with both of them on Saturday.”

Bea dropped the butter knife she was holding into a jar of mayonnaise. “You’re still on that? No.”

“It’s up to me to figure this out. Not you.”

Bea threw up her hands. “You can’t fix this one by yourself, Dad.”

His nostrils flared. Yes, he could. He had to. Who else was there? He was on his own. Caroline was gone. Bea wasn’t his anymore. Even Ken was gone.

The whole thing stunk like cow pies in the sun. He eyed the chair nearest him and shoved it in, slamming it against the table. The freezer spit out three small chunks of ice in response. They clattered off the tray and onto the floor.

One piece landed in front of Steve, who jumped to his feet and batted it across the floor. It shot out of the kitchen. Steve chased it, sending it skidding down the hall. Mitch followed the sliding of the ice and the scritch-scratch of the cat’s claws on the laminate floor with his ears until there was silence. A few moments later, Steve reappeared, looking downcast, no ice cube in sight.

“Where’d it go, Steve?” Jeremy asked.

Mitch narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. He hurried down the hall to his bedroom, and Steve eagerly followed. Mitch opened the door.

Aha.

There, sitting on the carpet just inside his room, was the piece of ice, already beginning to melt. Steve pounced on it, sending it back into the hall.

A tickle of laughter started in Mitch’s stomach and worked its way up to his throat. “You really had me stumped, you little rascal.”

He headed back to the kitchen, a new lightness in his step. Maybe Bea was right. He couldn’t fix the problem with his parents on his own. Or maybe at all. And apparently, he couldn’t fix the fridge to save his life. But that didn’t mean things weren’t going to be okay.