“Alas, sweet P., Nellie was short for ‘Nelson,’ not ‘Eleanor.’ He was a Gold Glove second baseman for the White Sox. Anyway, the ball is so beat-up, it’s full of holes. I have no idea why Tony even had it. Maybe he picked it up for your dad and forgot to give it to him. Peter’s a White Sox fan, isn’t he?”

“We live in KC, so it’s the Royals for us. Poor us. But Daddy keeps a soft spot for the Sox.”

We talked baseball the rest of the way north. As I was dropping Petra off, she reverted to our little encounter with the punks outside my South Chicago home.

“Please don’t tell Daddy about it, okay? He already thinks I’m, like, six years old, without enough sense to keep out of harm’s way. And he thinks you’re this mega-feminist trouble-maker. If he knew I’d waltzed right into danger at your side, he’d skin you for supper and put me in a convent.”

“He’d have to catch me first. And, fear not, you’re safe from the convents: your dad and I never talk.”

23 - VISIT A CLIENT . . . AND TALK

23

VISIT A CLIENT … AND TALK

I DROVE OVER TO LIONSGATE MANOR SUNDAY AFTERNOON to meet Miss Claudia. I was tired of getting the runaround from her sister, and even from Karen Lennon, on when she would be fit enough to talk to me.

The building receptionist sent me to the skilled-nursing floor, where the head nurse told me that they’d taken Miss Claudia up to the rooftop garden. The nurse warned me that Miss Claudia was noticeably weaker and vaguer. She hadn’t been able to go to church this morning, and she had slept most of the day.

“On Sundays, when there’s no therapy, I like our stroke and dementia patients to have a chance to be outside. Even if she doesn’t seem responsive to you, she probably understands more than you’d think when you talk to her. Are you from the social welfare office?”

“No. I’m trying to find her nephew, Lamont, for her.”

The head nurse patted my hand. “That’s good of you. Real good. She talks about him all the time … at least as much as I can make out from what she’s saying.”

The “garden” turned out to be a dozen or so trees in pots enclosed by a low wooden fence. The manor had done what they could within their budget limits: window boxes with flowers and some vegetables hanging from the fence, big umbrellas making the space look almost gay, a place to get drinks, and, in one corner and under a canopy, a television set tuned to the White Sox game.