“Okay, how about a knife?”

“Oh, sure, I have that.” She opens a drawer, takes out a large butcher knife. “This was my mother’s. I remember she always used it to chop nuts for Russian tea cakes, we had them every Christmas. Russian tea cakes.” She leans closer, squints at it. “Well, I wouldn’t eat anything cut with that.”

“It’ll be fine for this.” I take the knife from her, cut the stems, and arrange the flowers in the glass. Then I hand Rose her bouquet.

“Ohhhhh!” She holds the roses up to her nose, inhales deeply. She smiles shyly at Chip. “See, I didn’t know I was getting flowers.”

“Well,” he says. “You did.”

“You’re a very nice young man.”

“And you’re a very nice lady.”

Rose straightens, adjusts the collar on her robe. “Where do you live?”

“Well, actually, I’m living with Myra, at the moment.”

Rose gasps, spins around, and wags her finger in my face. “You didn’t tell me you got married, you rascal!”

“We’re not married.” I dry the knife I’ve washed, put it back in the drawer.

“You’re not?” Her face clouds. Then she says, “Well, that’s all right. Don’t worry. That’s how they do nowadays. Lots of people do it.” She sets her flowers down on her kitchen table. “Now. How about some tea for the lovebirds?”

I look at my watch. Ten minutes behind schedule. “I’m afraid we can’t, Rose,” I say, at the same time that Chip says, “We’d love some.”

“Chip!”

“Oh, it’s a fight,” Rose says. “Don’t fight.”

“Myra,” Chip says.

“Rose, “I say, “you need to get your insulin now. I have to give it to you right now so you can be ready for Tiffany. Then you need to get dressed, okay? She’ll be here soon.”

“Oh, she left.”

“Who did?”

“Tiffany.”

“She’s not supposed to be here, yet. I want to give you your shot so you can get ready for her, remember?”

Rose starts to cry. “But she’s gone, Tiffany’s gone, I got a new one now!”

“Oh!” I say. “Oh, I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Who’s the new one, what’s her name?”

“I don’t know. But not ‘Tiffany.’” She pulls a filthy handkerchief out of her robe pocket, blows her nose.

I check my watch again, go over to the refrigerator and take out Rose’s insulin. It’s close to being used up; I’ll need to call her pharmacy. I take my pen out, make an X on my wrist to remind me to do this later. No time now.

“Okay, Rose, go over to your bed, please, and let me give you your shot.”

She stands still, her head down.

“Rose?”

“I have to tell you something first,”