The pale woman watches Kat as we make our way to the large wooden front door.

The inside of Las Palomas is surprisingly cool considering the heat outside. Ceiling fans on a low revolution speed twirl the air above our heads. The floor is tiled in terra-cotta squares, and brightly colored pots of palms grace all the corners. The large room resembles the inside of someone’s house, not a hospital. A nurse looks up from a writing desk.

“How can I help you?” She has kind eyes and a wrinkled face from perhaps many years in the Arizona sun.

I tell her that we’ve come to see Candace Hocking.

The nurse smiles and casts a glance at Kat. “We restrict visits from children, I’m afraid.”

“I thought as much,” I tell her. “But Kat here isn’t an ordinary visitor.”

Before I can explain why, the nurse says, “This is Kat? This is Mrs. Hocking’s daughter?”

It hurts to hear her say that. It shouldn’t but it does. “Yes. This is her daughter.”

“Mrs. Hocking did not say you were coming,” the nurse says, her tone a mix of alarm and delight.

“Mrs. Hocking does not know we are coming. I thought it best to wait until we arrived. Perhaps you could let her know we are here?”

“And is Mr. Hocking also coming?” she says, looking beyond me to see if Martin is hovering just inside the door.

“He is not.”

“And your name, miss?”

“Just call me Sophie.”

She invites us to please have a seat. When she returns ten minutes later I can’t tell from her face what kind of reaction Candace had to the news that Kat is here.

“Mrs. Hocking is waiting for you on the patio,” the nurse says. “She is most anxious to see you. You will both be safe if you keep your distance. The disease is only catching if you breathe the air she coughs, and our residents work very hard to limit their coughs. I will take you back in a moment, but first may I have a word with you, Miss . . . ?”

“Sophie will do.”

She smiles politely, but with puzzlement, and I follow her a few yards away from where Kat sits on a sofa gazing down at her lap, at the doll with the cracked cheek.

“Mrs. Hocking is very weak,” the nurse says. “I don’t want Kat to be frightened of how her mother looks. She had been doing so well, too, but she took a turn after hearing of the death of her father—”

“Candace’s father is dead?” I blurt.

The nurse blinks at me. “Why, yes. You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t. When did he die?”

“Well, I would say it was about a month ago now.”

I can’t help but wonder how Candace’s father met his end. Martin told me Candace’s father wasn’t in good health, but not that he was near death. I search my mind to recall if Martin was home with me in late March or away. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Not now.