“That’s two places I’ll never go.”

The same young woman guarded the front desk at the assisted-living facility. If she remembered Ted or Lester from their visit a week earlier, she gave no clue.

“Please sign in,” she said, pushing a three-ring binder across the desk. “Who are you here to see?”

Ted was glad to see Lester shake off his bad mood and turn on the charm he had shown the last time they were there. He no longer wore the metal brace on his teeth, claiming a miraculous recovery—though Ted wouldn’t believe it until he saw the man chow down a steak and corn on the cob—but his arm was still in the sling, and the plastic cast showed. He was on the mend, but it was a forlorn look.

“You may not remember us from last week,” he began. “We are here to visit with Miss Barbara Miller. She is the aunt of her only nephew”—here he gestured grandly as he created yet another forgettable alias for Ted—“Ethan Phillips.”

The woman looked at them blankly through thick glasses. “Barbara Miller?” she said, in a suspicious tone.

Ted felt the first stirrings of impending disaster. Lester plowed on.

“Yes.” He held up a white box with red lettering: andre’s hungarian bakery. “We brought her a little treat.”

“One moment,” she said before picking up the phone and turning away. She whispered with muted intensity for a minute before speaking to Lester again. “Would you take a seat? The director will be right out.”

Lester smiled confidently at Ted and led the way to a high backless couch on which they perched like petitioners at the manor house. Ted thought they were screwed.

A tall pinch-faced woman wearing sensible shoes, a heavy grey skirt that reached to midcalf, and what could have been a man’s dress shirt buttoned to the neck strode across the lobby. She introduced herself in a monotone voice at triple speed, adding her title, education, credentials, length of service, and a brief résumé. It was a performance that would have qualified her to announce the disclaimers for a pharmaceutical ad. Ted missed her name but got the gist of the speech. This woman was in charge here. “Who are you people?” she finished. “And why are you here? Do not dissemble, as I know that Miss Miller has no family.”

Ted looked to Lester—it was time for improvisation—only to find Lester staring at him with a blank, unreadable face.

Ted took the last resort of a failed lawyer; he told the truth and threw himself on the mercy of the court. “My name is Ted Molloy. I am not her nephew. I am a limited business partner with Miss Miller. If you like, I can show you our signed agreement. I need to speak with her.”