“There’s so much we’ll never know in life, kid. I don’t know why Arthur didn’t tell you the truth. My two cents? I saw the way he looked at you. You two were electric. Maybe he was up to something, and sure, he wasn’t entirely honest, but I think he really was in love with you. Maybe he would have told you about Margaret and the kids if he’d had a chance. Maybe he would have even wanted to leave her. Who knows? People have complicated lives. I’ll tell you what I hold against him: They weren’t in Europe that summer. They were right here in East Troy.”

“They were here that whole time?” Sherri feels her face go numb. How stupid was she? How many different ways can she be wrong about the past?

“Arthur didn’t think it would get back to you. Guess he figured we’d all stay in our lanes, the lake people and the townies, never the twain shall meet. But that’s yesterday’s newspaper nobody wants to read again.” He reaches for Sherri’s hand. His skin is translucent, and his skinny white arm is scarred from IV needles. “My doctor, I just saw him today. He says I don’t have long.”

This wasn’t news. Anyone could look at Jerry and see that he was near the end. Still, Jerry has been a constant in her life for so long, she can’t imagine him gone.

“I’m going into hospice, kid,” Jerry says. “All the beautiful nurses are waiting for me to arrive. That’s my last stop before I meet the angels.” Sherri wonders what it must be like for him to hover on the edge of death, to wake up each morning wondering if that day would be his last. Maybe Officer Henley had been right. Perhaps Arthur really had died the best kind of death. To never have to say goodbye, to slip out the back door of life without suffering or awareness.

Jerry continues, “My son is going to help me move my things out of here tomorrow, and then the place reverts back to you. This is a great apartment. Aside from all the stairs, I’ve liked living here. I really have. It’s worked out great, financially and everything.”