“What, Mommy? What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“You said ‘stop it.’”

“Just talking to myself.” She turned off 72 onto Mill Valley Road, and up ahead in the distance, through the tree line, she could just barely make out the cracked concrete tablelands of Tanglewood’s outermost parking lots gleaming in the sun. “We’re almost there.”

“How much longer?”

“Five minutes.”

The cell phone in her canvas MasterCard bag started chiming Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” a custom ring-tone that she had personally programmed in but nonetheless always sounded slightly off-key. Digging past a box of Eli’s animal crackers, she pulled out the cell, thumbing the “talk” button before she’d even checked the number.

“Hello?”

“Sarah?”

Her mother: Sarah felt herself struggling for normalcy. “What’s up?”

“Where are you, dear?”

“Going to visit Mike.”

“Everything all right?”

“Fine.”

“Your voice sounds funny.”

“It’s this pollen count,” Sarah said, already wishing she hadn’t picked up the phone. “And the reception’s about to go out. What’s up?”

Newspaper rustled in the background, a TV crackled from the other room. “Your father wants to know what time you’re coming over for lunch on Monday. He’s doing steaks on the grill.”

“I’m not sure we’ll be there.”

“We picked up sparklers for Eli and some of those lamb kebabs from the Greek place. How many do you think you’ll eat?”

“I don’t know if we’ll make it,” Sarah said. “I’ll have to let you know.”

“I’m sending your father to the store now. If—”

“Mom, please, all right? I’m about to lose reception.”

Now there was no mistaking the weight of the silence hanging on the other end. Sarah could think of nothing to fill it that wouldn’t make it worse.

“All right,” her mother said finally. “Let us know.”

“I will.”

“Give Eli a kiss from Nana.”

“Right.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Mom—” Just as she felt the last strand of her patience slipping through its pulleys, it occurred to her that there might actually be something else, an unspoken reason why her mother had called. “Is something wrong?”

Her mother was quiet for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “I just woke up with one of my feelings this morning. I wanted to make sure you and Eli and Mike were all okay.”

Sarah sighed. Despite everything, her mother’s concern sounded genuine. “Thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Bye, honey.”

Sarah closed the phone and set it aside with a heightened sense of unease. Her mother’s “feelings” came often enough that she rarely put stock in them, but once or twice—

“Mommy?”

She looked up. Mindless routine had taken her to the hospital’s sprawling employee parking lot, empty except for a discarded McDonald’s cup in the middle. Sarah realized that tonight she could park wherever she wanted. Nobody was going to ticket the Outback for taking up space in the ER lot on the last night the hospital was open.

“Yes?”

“Who was on the phone?”

She turned up the service drive, past the visitor lot, swung in alongside the main building. “Nana.”