That being said, she looked pale and alone right now. I’d expected Auntie Caro, Mom’s closest friend, to be here, since they’d been besties since before I was born. But no. Mom just stared into the distance, probably planning a tag sale to get rid of Dad’s things.

“How are you doing, Mom?” I said.

“Fine.”

“This must be very hard for you.”

She blinked. “What’s that, Sadie?”

“This must be hard for you,” I repeated more loudly, getting an evil look from Jules. “Having your husband of fifty years in a life-threatening situation. Brain bleed. Surgery.”

“I don’t need a summary, Sadie. Of course it’s hard.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Juliet told me.

“Well, it’s a little odd, all of you stone-faced here. Except you, Oliver.” He smiled again. Jesus.

“Want some sackcloth and ashes?” she asked. “Sorry if we’re keeping it together. You keep doing you, though.”

Finally, the doctor appeared, a tall, handsome African American man wearing scrubs and a white doctor jacket with his name stitched over the pocket. Daniel Evans, MD. Neurosurgery.

God. Brain surgery. Please make it, Daddy. Please don’t die.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “We had another emergency right after your . . . uh, Mr., uh . . .”

“Frost,” Juliet and I said in unison.

“Yes, of course. So.” He sat down. “Your father—and husband, Mrs. Frost—had a significant bleed, as we suspected. Right now, he’s resting, as you know. We’re keeping him on the ventilator to help his breathing, more as a precaution than anything else, since he had started breathing on his own again in the ambulance on the way here.”

My insides started to quiver. It sounded so dire.

“I wish I could tell you what to expect. There is damage to the part of the brain that controls speech, we’re sure of that. There’s also bruising from the fall, which has caused some swelling. But he survived the surgery. It’s going to be one step at a time. Now, I’m sure you have questions.”

“Will he wake up?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “We don’t know yet. Brain injuries are hard to predict. Every one is different. All I can say now is he’s stable but critical. The next couple of days will tell us more. Where do you folks live?”

“Stoningham,” Juliet answered. Mom still hadn’t said a word.

He nodded. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We’ll call if his status changes.”

“That’s a good idea,” Oliver said.

“No, it’s not,” I said. “He’ll want us close by.”

“We’ve been here for hours,” Juliet said. “And we can’t camp out in his room, Sadie. It’s critical care.”

“Well, I’m not going,” I said. “If something . . . happens, I want to be here.”

“We have the girls,” Oliver said.