Solomon’s eyebrows rose a bit, tiredly. “You will,” he said. “And when you do…tell him.” He smoothed out the blanket again. “It’s kind of funny, I guess. To come to the end, to have lived a life of, you could say, proud independence, only to find…you got no one. That’s a thing I’m facing now.”

Odessa’s heart dropped. She reached out to him, touching his shoulder. “You’re not alone,” she said.

“It’s mainly my own fault,” he said, trying to smile. “Outliving everyone else…”

“No family…?” said Odessa.

“None. And no trusted friends. And the hospital here—or my health insurer, I’m not sure—needs me to update my health care proxy.” He looked at Mr. Lusk, who nodded his second opinion. “It’s a formality. You won’t have to make any difficult decisions, I marked down how I want everything to go.”

“Oh,” she said. “Me?”

“It’s a lot to ask, I know. We don’t know one another very well at all…”

She felt a panicky feeling rising in her chest and wasn’t sure why. She fought it.

“You can read the form,” he said. “You’re a lawyer. It’s all spelled out.”

Mr. Lusk produced a three-page contract. “Palliative care for dignity and quality of life, but no extending treatment beyond that. At no time will you be required to make a life-or-death call, as it were.”

Mr. Lusk had a fountain pen, too. Odessa felt herself nodding. “Of course,” she said.

She read through the form quickly. Standard medical legalese. She signed.

“And, if you would,” said Mr. Lusk, swapping out another set of pages, “power of attorney. Standard formality.”

This one she skimmed, then signed her name to it.

Mr. Lusk smiled and slipped the contracts back into his leather portfolio, which he tucked under his arm.

“Odessa,” said Solomon. He held out his hand to her. She took it: cold and rough. “This is a special thing you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

There was emotion behind his voice. He was grateful to her, and maybe there was something more.

“Happy to help, really I am.” She gave his hand a light squeeze. “I’m really glad we met.”

“Aren’t you sweet. Do me a favor and give your parents my regards, they raised a special one.”

Odessa let out a soft laugh. “I’ll do that.”

She made to pull away, but he gripped her hand a while longer.

“We in the Bureau, we answer a higher calling. Something sacred.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. She patted the back of his hand. “And you did it longer than anyone, it seems.”

Solomon closed his eyes, smiled, and nodded. “Not better, but sure longer.” With a chuckle, he released her hand, his head settling back against the top pillow. “I got to close my eyes a bit now,” he said.