Mitch tromped into the house and found Frank playing checkers with his father in the living room. His mother sat nearby, watching closely.

“Howdy.” Dad greeted him without looking up from the board.

“You’re giving Frank a run for his money, I hope.”

“Mebbe.”

Mitch caught Frank’s eye. “You don’t have to spend all afternoon here, you know.”

The deal had been that people scheduled to help on any given day would stop in twice to check on his parents, but otherwise would just be on call in case something came up.

Frank threw up his hands with a groan as Rand finished off the last of his pieces. “You got me again.” He solemnly shook Rand’s hand, then stood to face Mitch. “I was waiting for you.”

As if by unspoken agreement, they walked together to the kitchen.

Mitch draped his CINCH jacket over the back of a chair. “Everything go okay here?”

He’d felt like a nervous first-time parent all week, every time he left for work. But Marge had been wonderful, texting him several times a day that she’d been over and things were fine. And on Wednesday, when he got home, Rand had reported that Amber and Hunter had been by, and June had sat entranced, watching the baby play the entire time.

“It was great.” Frank leaned a hip against the table and folded his arms across his chest. “I talked with your dad about coming to the service this Sunday.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

It would be easy enough on one hand, but on the other hand, the one consistent thing that seemed to make his mother confused and irritable was a lot of people. And Mitch knew from experience the well-meaning folks at Moose Creek Community Church—God bless them—would be unlikely to give his mother privacy and space.

Frank shrugged. “Only one way to find out. But people could also take turns staying home with your mom so Rand could go. He’s going to need a break now and then. And so will you.”

Mitch’s face twisted into a scowl for a second and then smoothed back out.

“I know, I know.” Frank held up his hands. “That’s something a pastor would say.”

Well, yes, it was. But also something a friend would say.

“You’re right.” Mitch’s neck muscles relaxed a little. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“And talk to Marge about you getting out of here to do something fun once in a while.”

“I can’t ask her to watch my parents any more than she already is.”

Frank laughed. So hard he bent over at the waist and put his hands on his knees. “I meant take her with you, you idiot. Go out to dinner or something.”

Mitch felt his face flush.

“And I don’t mean at The Baked Potato.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m not . . .”