Nell led Lisa to the living room. “It’s terrible what happened, that sleazeball breaking in, assaulting you, all right behind us. Just disgusting. Miami-Dade’s good. Rollie’s got his sources. They’re working on it. Sooner or later they’ll get that loser.”

“Hope it’s sooner.”

“You’ll see,” Nell said upon arriving in the living room. “I made some fresh lemonade. Bring it out, Rollie,” she called to her husband.

Lisa loved Nell’s New York accent. “You have a gorgeous home,” she said, looking around.

“I’ll give you the grand tour later, if you like.” Nell eased herself into a chair. “First, I’ll get to the point about me.” Nell pulled off her head scarf, revealing nothing but small islands of downy hairs on her scalp. “I’ve got cancer. It’s terminal. I have good days when I’m strong and bad days when I’m not. Not sure how much time I have left—days, weeks, months, maybe a year, but that’s it.”

Lisa put her hand on Nell’s knee. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Death has been my life.”

Not understanding, Lisa glanced at Dillard, back at Nell and said, “What do you mean?”

“I worked in the New York City medical examiner’s office as a forensic mortuary technician, assisting the MEs with autopsies. It’s how I met Rollie. We stood together over many bodies. I also worked death scenes across the city. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

Nell leaned closer to Lisa, dropping her voice. “I know the unimaginable things humans are capable of doing to other humans.”

Lisa nodded at Nell’s intensity as she continued.

“The job gave me a different point of view. Not much in this world gets to me. So no, dear, don’t be sorry for me. Rollie and I have had a good run. We’re at peace. Aren’t we, Rollie?”

“We are.” He set down a tray of some cookies alongside glasses filled with ice and lemonade.

“My, my,” Nell’s focus sharpened on Lisa, her high cheekbones, her thick hair and her pearl stud earrings. “You are a pretty one, aren’t you?”

Lisa smiled, blushed. “Thank you.”

“Rollie, get my pillow, will you?”

Dillard fetched a large pillow from behind Nell’s sofa chair, slipped it behind her, gently fluffing and positioning it just so. Lisa was touched at how tender he was with his dying wife. He stood in healthy contrast to her. He had sharp, squinting eyes and the knotted face of man who had experienced a hard life, a capable protector who reminded Lisa of her father.

“Thanks,” Nell sighed. “So Rollie tells me you and Jeff don’t have any kids?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it. Roland told me that you don’t have any children.”