He needed a night nurse, since there was no telling if he’d kick me out at any given moment and Xander deserved to sleep at his own place. She could handle days, but hiring someone to pick up the slack was a good idea, too.

I swallowed, realizing Dad needed around-the-clock care.

“I gave Xander a list of names from Dr. Sanderson, but he said they were too expensive.”

Halting my pen, I looked up at Dorothy. She had to have misspoken.

“I know.” She waved me off.

Unless Dad had gone on a spending spree in the last decade, there was zero chance he couldn’t afford it. We’d grown up knowing the financial worth of our family and how to spend responsibly so that worth didn’t diminish.

“I’ll talk to Xander,” I said with a curt nod.

Dorothy continued, and my little list became not so little anymore.

“Xander does his best,” she assured me. “That boy is a saint.”

“Sure is.” Guilt sat in my stomach like a rock, but I managed a nod. Alexander’s sainthood wasn’t exactly news to me.

I’d just finished writing down her last recommendation when Walter’s and Dad’s voices drew closer.

“Thank you,” I said to Dorothy, getting to my feet quickly.

“—and you know there’s no telling—” Walter’s eyebrows rose toward his salt-and-pepper hairline. “Welcome home,” he said softly, reaching for my hand. Dorothy was right—Walter hadn’t aged much. His dark skin was unwrinkled with the exception of the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and his brown eyes still held a ready smile.

“Thank you,” I replied, shaking his hand. He stood between the exit and me, making the kitchen window look like a good option if not for the thirty-foot drop to the ground below. Damned walkout basement.

“He looks good, doesn’t he, Walt?” Dad asked, slapping his best friend on the back.

We both turned to stare at him in shock.

Dad’s grin only widened as he held my gaze. “So young to be so accomplished, too. Definitely a man to be proud of.”

“He is,” Walt agreed.

My breath paused, as if sucking in any of the air would pop this moment like the little bubble it was.

“I’m so surprised to see you here,” Dad went on.

“I just stopped by to see if you needed anything,” I said carefully.

His smile softened. “Such a good kid. Dorothy, why the heck didn’t you tell me Rich was home from college?”

Air gushed from my chest like a deflated balloon. Rich was ten years older than me and owned Alba’s only auto body shop. Which meant not only did Dad not know who I was, he didn’t know what year it was.

“Art,” Walter began, his tone dropping.

I caught his eye and shook my head. It wasn’t worth it.