“Yeah.” She looks me up and down. “You okay?”

“It’s been a long couple of days.”

“I can tell.”

She opens the door, steps out, and stands with her arms folded across her chest. “You mind telling me what this is all about?”

“I need to speak to your grandfather. I want to know if his grandfather spoke to him about something that happened a long time ago.”

“He’s old, bedridden, and not all together upstairs, if you know what I mean. I don’t like any added stress for him and it sounds like that’s all you are. So, why don’t you ask me?”

“It’s a long story and I think it’s be better if I ask him.”

“Well, you can ask me firs—”

“Please, I’m running out of time.”

She cocks her head at me. “Until what?”

We have a momentary standoff.

“Please.”

My gentle pleading reaches her and she sighs.

“I was so weirded out by your message that I wasn’t going to tell him, but I let it slip last night. After that, he wouldn’t shut up about it. He kept asking to hear it, so I played it for him. He was more stirred up than I’ve seen him in years. That’s when he told me about the sleeping thing. What is he talking about?”

“It’s something about my house. His grandfather used to work there.”

“The Night-something house?”

“Nightingale House.”

She looks out at the surrounding fields. “He hasn’t spoken about that place in years …”

“I need to talk to him. It’s important.”

She gives me another appraising look. “I suppose I’ve got to or he won’t ever shut up about it. Well, let’s get this over with.” She turns and opens the screen door but stops. “Fifteen minutes, then you have to go.”

“I might need more time.”

“That’s non-negotiable. Fifteen minutes. If you’re sixteen minutes, I’m calling the cops.”

“Okay.”

I consent because I have to talk to this guy. If I need more time, I’ll figure something out.

Once inside, she leads me through the living room to a closed door at the end of a short hallway. She places her hand on the door and fixes me with a look.

“Fifteen minutes.”

I nod.

She gently opens the door. “Pa-pa?”

The first thing that hits me is the aroma of antiseptic, plastic, and body odor; a nasal cocktail that I’ll always associate with visiting my great-grandfather in a nursing home.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Dana says softly.

There’s a mumble from somewhere in the room and she motions for me to enter.