“All right, all things considered. Her mom’s been sick for so long she barely remembers her being different, so it’s sort of normal for her. I don’t think she understands what’s coming. I’m not sure any of us are ready for that.”

I gazed out the window. The plane floated above a blanket of clouds.

“So what else do I need to know?” I asked.

“I expect you’ve already thought about this, but your mom—well, she doesn’t look the way she did when you left. She’s very thin. She’s lost all her hair. She wears a turban most of the time, but you might see her without it, which is pretty hard. She looks much older than her age.”

I nodded. I knew I wasn’t prepared for any of this, that nothing Arch could say to me would make it easier. I was just going to have to go through it.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Just your arrangements. You can stay out at the farm if you like, but I thought it would be better for everyone if you stayed over at our house. It might make things smoother.”

“Is that what my mother wants?”

“She isn’t lucid very often. She has a few decent hours in the daytime. And Dolly’s at our house too—she’s using Vanessa’s old room. It’s too hard for her to be at the farm with your mother being so sick and Uncle Jim being so helpless and pitiful. Van thought that would be better for everyone, and Uncle Jim agreed. So you’ll see a lot more of Dolly if you stay with us. What do you say?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Before long, we plunged through the canopy of clouds, and the green hills and blue lakes of Middle Tennessee came into view. When we’d landed, Scott, the Haltoms’ old caretaker, was waiting for us. Arch seemed to have inherited him along with the house. His hair had turned from dark brown to salt and pepper, but otherwise, he seemed unchanged.

“It’s good to see you, Scott,” I said.

“You too, you little turd.”

As Scott drove us out to Leiper’s Fork, I asked him about his wife and boys—they were in the seventh and eighth grade now, attending Yeatman at Jim’s expense.

“That’s one hell of a perk,” I said.

“I call it the golden handcuffs,” Scott replied. “He’s got me for six more years at least.”

“Next thing you know, he’ll be offering to pay their way through Vanderbilt.”

“I won’t say no if he does,” Scott said. “You, my friend, are about the only fool in history to turn down that deal.”