It was a wide, pleasant space, with furniture covered in a chintz whose flowers had faded from years of use. A rolling cart held a television, a hot plate, and a toaster oven. When Mrs. Tertz saw me looking at them she shook her head regretfully and explained that they had to be wheeled into the kitchen at night.

“It used to be that Abe and I left them out here all summer long, but there are too many break-ins these days. We can’t afford to put walls up to make the porch secure, so we just do the best we can.”

“You don’t keep a dog still? Mrs. Hellstrom told me you used to buy black Labs from Mrs. Frizell.”

“Oh, my. Yes. And my grandchildren are playing with dogs descended from some of those Labs. But you know, it takes a lot of strength to walk a dog that energetic. When our last old boy died five years ago, Abe and I decided we just didn’t have the stamina for a new one. But we miss them. Sometimes I wish—but Abe’s got arthritis, and my back’s not so good. We just couldn’t do it. How’s Hattie doing? Marjorie told me you’d been by to see her.”

“Not well. She’s restless, but not responsive. I don’t know what will happen to her.” A few weeks in bed could be a death sentence for a woman her age, but Mrs. Tertz didn’t need me to spell that out.

“One of the worrying things is her finances. She’s going to need long-term care if—when—she heals enough to leave Cook County. Chrissie and Todd want to mortgage her house, but they don’t know where the title is.”

Mrs. Tertz shook her head again, worried. “I hate to think of Hattie losing that house on top of losing the dogs. I don’t think she’ll last too long if that happens—if she knows about it, I mean. But I can’t help you with money for her, dear, if that’s what you want: Abe and I just make ends meet every month on our social security as it is. And now with property taxes going up …” She clipped her lips together, too worried to talk about it.

I reassured her hastily. “But the scary thing about her finances is how she has her money invested. That’s really what I wanted to ask you about. She sold her CDs at her old bank in February, took a loss, of course, because of the penalties, and put the money into some bonds. Very high-yield—but not paying anything these days. You wouldn’t know why she decided to do that, would you?”

Mrs. Tertz shifted in her chair. “We never talked about money together, dear.”