“But there should be a point person, someone who lives with him or very close by. Mrs. Frost, since you—”

“No. It won’t be me. I have a more-than-full-time job, and I’m seventy years old.”

Wow. I mean, yes, her age was a factor, but boy, she couldn’t get those words out fast enough.

“I also have a full-time job, plus two kids,” Juliet said. She glanced at Oliver, who nodded and smiled, the asshole.

“I live in New York City,” I said. They looked at me. “But yeah, I’ll do it.” I closed my eyes. “Of course I will. I’ll . . . move home. It’ll take me a week or two, but yeah.” Shit. But of course I would.

“Good girl, Sadie,” my mother said.

I shrugged. It wasn’t like I wanted to, but who else would take care of Dad?

— —

In the week that followed, I listed my apartment with Airbnb so it would earn me some money while Dad was recovering. Carter helped me touch it up with a new comforter and throw pillows and the like. I put my personal stuff in crates and brought them with me. Jules let me put some things in her basement.

Sister Mary gave me a leave from St. Catherine’s, and all my friends there took me out the night before I left. I tried not to cry as Alexander drove me east to my hometown.

The first couple of weeks, I barely left the house, too busy learning things from the nurses, therapists and equipment people and trying not to kill my mother.

Old Barb seemed devoid of any midwestern capability where Dad was concerned. Instead, she did everything she could to distance herself from my father, becoming conveniently invisible when my dad needed a bath, or physical therapy, or just some damn company. Jules came by and sat next to his bed, but she checked her phone constantly.

“Do you have to do that?” I snapped.

“I’m working, okay? Insurance doesn’t cover all of this, and I don’t want Mom and Dad to drain their retirement. So I’m making up the difference, if it’s all right with you.”

I sat back, chastened. “Sorry,” I muttered, ever the little sister.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We all do our part.” Gaylord had provided the names of a few occupational and physical therapists, and (I guess with Juliet’s help) we hired a physical therapist named LeVon Murphy to stay with Dad from eight until four five days a week to keep working on his improvement. LeVon was amazing, calm and funny, and all three of us Frost women loved him. He was also big and strong, so he could do things like lift Dad if necessary.