We settled down. I sipped my tea. Caro had already put in the sugar. She was drinking some monstrous thing with whipped cream. She also had a slab of coconut cake. “Go on, take a bite,” she said, sliding into the booth next to me. “You know you’re going to.”

I did. Oh, it was good. I needed to bake a cake. Maybe LeVon could bring half of it home to his family. Maybe John would like it, since his swallowing had improved and he could eat almost anything now.

“Is John getting any better, do they think?” Caro asked. “Mentally?”

“In little ways. He seems more alert from time to time. His walking is better, but he still needs help getting in and out of bed. He makes some sounds, but talking isn’t going so well. LeVon gave him a pen and paper, but he didn’t seem to know what to do with it.”

“Jesus, Barb. I don’t know how you do it.”

“In sickness and in health.”

“Yeah, and forsaking all others. Let’s not forget why we’re here, after all.”

The door opened, and a young couple came in with their baby. “How’s your grandbaby doing, by the way?” I asked, and Carol pulled out her phone to show me the latest pictures of Garrett, her second grandson. “Beautiful. Looks like you, Caro.”

She flashed me that gorgeous smile that lit up her whole face. “I thought so, too,” she said.

Then the door opened, and a woman came in, late fifties, maybe.

“Hey,” Caro said. “We know her. It’s . . . uh . . . oh, shit, I can’t remember.”

“It’s Karen, the teacher from ballroom dancing, remember?” I had great facial recall, which helped in my job. Also, we took those lessons for a few months, in those days when I’d still been trying to work on my marriage, making sure John had enough fun, trying to feel something other than irritation toward him.

“Right!” Caro said. “Hi, Karen! How are you?”

Karen looked over, then flinched.

The penny dropped, as the saying goes.

Seems we had just met WORK.

“Come on over!” Caro called. “Remember us? We took dance classes from you. We were all terrible.”

Karen came over, her arms crossed tightly in front of her.

Caro went on blithely. “This is Barb Frost, and I’m Caro, and . . . oh. Oh, shit. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Yep. Her eyes darted between us.

“Here to meet my husband?” I asked, oddly numb.

“Um . . . uh . . .” She closed her eyes. “I think I might faint.”

“Great. A drama queen,” Caro said. “Well, faint away. We’ll throw a bucket of water on you. You’re not leaving till you’ve answered some questions.”

“It’s just that I only had a kale smoothie for breakfast, and—”

“We don’t care,” I said. “Sit down, you . . . adulteress.”

“Oh, Barb,” Caro said. “Call her what she is. Sit down, slut.”