With a small laugh, Annie said, “Nelson. Georgia Nelson. And yes. I’m game if you are. But please . . . don’t take Mom back to Boston.”

He nodded again, this time with purpose, as if strength had returned to his heart. “I won’t. That’s a promise.”

Annie hoped it was the right decision for them all.

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Earl stopped by with food for their dinner: chowder, green salad, and apple turnovers fresh out of Claire’s oven—which was really nice, because by then it was nearly seven, and Annie hadn’t yet thought about what they might eat. Earl said he was sorry he didn’t make it to the hospital, but Claire had made it clear that Donna needed Annie and Kevin, not him, and she’d insisted he stay home. When Annie told him about Donna’s prognosis, Earl rubbed his forehead and uttered a heartfelt grunt. When Annie added that Donna would be in the hospital until Saturday, he said he had to go to the hardware store in the morning, so he’d stop in and see her. “And I’ll be sure to tell her that her crate has arrived.”

Though it nearly dominated the room, Annie had forgotten about the wood-slatted delivery.

As soon as Earl left, Kevin gestured toward it. “Give me a dollar, and I’ll tell you what’s in it.”

“I only know it weighs a ton.”

Without further comment, he pulled out his key ring—a Swiss Army knife dangled from it. But after quick examination, he scratched his chin the way Earl often did. “I definitely need something stronger. Got a crowbar I can use to pry this thing apart?”

“Not in the kitchen drawer,” she said.

He rolled his eyes, then went outside. In half a minute, he returned, a tire iron in one hand. “Good thing I know my way around tools.” He proceeded to jimmy the slats, each cracking, splintering, then giving way. In a matter of seconds, the interior was visible, though a thick layer of packing was wrapped around whatever was inside. He tore off a corner of the padded paper. “Yup,” he said, “exactly as I thought. The Louis Vuitton.”

Annie had become exasperated with his cloak-and-dagger game when other things were much more pressing, like the need to discuss how they were going to manage Donna’s care in conjunction with hospice. She might even have preferred to talk about the fact that Donna was dying. But at least the distraction of the crate had stopped Kevin from crying.

Slow down, Murphy interjected just then. There is time.

So Annie closed her eyes. And breathed.

“You know about this?” Kevin asked.

“No.”

He went back to prying—first one side, then the other. Then he said, “Okay, let’s hope it comes out right side up.” He overturned the crate, removed the final slats and peeled off all the packing. “Ta da!” he said.