“The crowd was silent when he leaned forward to put on his shoe. He took his time tying the lace, a simple everyday gesture. That’s what I saw: a small moment of human dignity.” Sybil smiled at the memory and winced. Even a smile required effort.

“When he stood up, both shoes on, the shouting and accusations started up all over again.”

They looked at each other. What they could no longer do, these two problem-solvers—as they’d always considered themselves—was define the problem, consider possible solutions and choose the best one. This problem was in another category, one beyond resolution.

ADDIE DECIDED that the dusting could wait. She would make herself a pot of tea and eat a square of dark chocolate. One of her bargains with herself was about rationing the number of squares she permitted herself each day. She used to eat six, and then she cut back to four. Now she was aiming for two. She ate only Ecuador, 75 percent cacao. While trying to cut down, she had tried 90 percent because those bars were so bitter. Too bitter to sustain, so she went back to Ecuador and was still on four squares a day. If she were honest with herself, five.

She made the tea and poured a cup and decided that she should give herself free rein to eat as much as she liked—four or five or six squares, even the whole bar—because she had the drive to Greenley ahead of her and a long night where she’d probably be awake in Sybil’s room. On Sunday, she’d go back to rationing. Sunday was face-the-music day, the day she hauled out the bathroom scale, checked her weight and made decisions about the week to come. Of daily rituals are we made, she told herself. Do not introduce drastic changes into your routine at this time of your life. Remember what you’ve learned about dealing with stress.

The bargaining side of her replied, But it’s also stressful to be overweight.

To compensate, she walked the five flights down to the lobby to check her mailbox. Another of her resolutions. She hadn’t started walking up the five flights, but that would happen next week.

Maybe.

In a few hours, she would be driving to Greenley to take over the late-evening and all-night shift. The family liked to have someone with Sybil all the time now. Sometimes on weekends, Addie took the day shift; sometimes the night shift. For tonight, she decided to bring her own small travel pillow, her own shrug. She’d be able to stretch out on the chaise the nursing staff had set up in Sybil’s room for family. Vigil. Where did the word come from? Probably Latin. Hazzley would know. Hazzley, of the Tuesday meetings, displayed a quiet but expert fascination with words. The point of keeping vigil was to stay awake; Hazzley would agree with that.

Addie would have to take along something to read. She was sorry she hadn’t been buying new books these days. She’d bring along a spy story by le Carré. Maybe one of the early Smiley novels. There were a couple she hadn’t read. And hadn’t George Smiley been revived in his later years to star in a more recent book? She’d check that out. All the le Carré novels were in her apartment, taking up a shelf in her bookcase.